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[daemonized]

ARDYN IZUNIA

Ardyn Izunia. Professor of law. Lord of law. Liege of law. The one grading your papers. Leave a message.

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[originallutece]

I don't know: I can't remember his face. He was British as well, I know that much, but I've never met him before, I'm certain of it. His voice wasn't anything like any of the people I know from home.

I don't know why we were going, but we were headed for a lighthouse. A barren thing, just a lump of rock with a dock and an enormous lighthouse. It was vital we get there.

As for what we said . . . he complained about rowing, as I told you. But it wasn't just mindless whining. We kept playing with words, going back and forth-- something about the emphasis of certain words, or he'd take the wrong meaning of a verb on purpose just to vex me.

[There's a little pause, and then:]

I've heard the man's voice before, though. When I fell into one of those cracks in the sidewalk. I heard him right before I blacked out. It was barely a sentence. Just . . . something about a mind struggling to create something.

[daemonized]

Taking a rowboat to a lighthouse. I wonder what matter of import would have brought you out there, but /then/ I wonder if it was very vital to begin with. If this man took the time to vex you and play with words, then there seems to be a rather casual air about it all.

[A moment before the next part goes through.]

As for a mind struggling to create something, that sounds... ominous. Almost as if it refers to our own situation; the memories that plague us.

Not that I think they're complete fabrications, mind you. It's just an odd parallel.

[originallutece]

No, it was vital, I'm certain of that much. We simply . . . perhaps we simply weren't taking it seriously.

[No, that's not it. And yet Rosalind knows there was something vital about that lighthouse, just as surely as Arydn knows he once had an inexplicable ability to heal.]

But yes. Those were my thoughts precisely. I wish I could have stayed conscious long enough to hear the rest; I'm hoping I'll remember it soon.

. . . did you have trouble accepting your memories when you first had them?

[daemonized]

You don't seem the type to joke about something truly serious, Rosalind. I wonder what possibly could have been happening.

And yes. My first memory had to do with monsters, after all. I thought I was either going mad, or someone was putting something in the water.

[originallutece]

I simply wonder . . .

This isn't based on my memories, you understand, but simply speculation. But I wonder . . . you were a healer. Jack was some kind of hero. And while I haven't recovered much yet, nothing is particularly disagreeable.

I wonder what happens if they are. If the cognitive dissonance is so great that one simply cannot handle knowing what they used to be.

[daemonized]

It's something I've discussed with others before, because the thought is worrying, isn't it?

What if one's memories paint you as some kind of villain? Or you simply led a discontented life? How do you reconcile these memories with the life you lead now? They say we're only what our experiences mould us to be, after all.

In the end, I think it would depend on the person, and the strength of one's character.

[originallutece]

And I suppose we'll see, one way or another, as time passes. There's quite a few of us now; the odds are someone's going to end up displeased by what they recall.

I simply hope it isn't you or I.

[daemonized]

I think displeasure is to be expected. If these are reflections of past lives, or something similar, I doubt anyone lived one completely free of strife.

It's the degree of discontent that'll prove to be the breaking point.

[originallutece]

And if it should be I? Are you volunteering to pick up the pieces?

[daemonized]

[This text comes without delay, because to Ardyn the answer is obvious.]

Do you even have to ask? Of course I will.

[originallutece]

[Why is that so odd to her? She and Ardyn are hardly new friends, and it's not as if she doesn't feel the exact same level of fierce friendship towards him. If the situation were reversed, of course she'd help him. And yet something in her is always a little shocked when he (or Tony, or Jack, or Fawkes, or any of the men in her life) says things like that.]

Thank you, then. For the assurance.

Text makes the sentiment look paltry, but I mean it, I assure you.

[daemonized]

Then I'll reiterate it in person when I see you next, and you can thank me for it again. How does that sound to you?

[You're stuck with this friendship whether you like it or not, Rosalind. There's no escaping the heap of concern he feels towards everyone close to him that's been affected by Retrospec.]