daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

I'm giving him the monster hunter backstory, and the reason he's so stern is because he's on a quest for vengeance to destroy the thing that took his arm. Bitterness and determination have settled in him and taken away all his smiles - he'll never know peace until he slays the thing and finds himself avenged.

[it doesn't hurt, until they know more about him, to make up a story for him. she's done the same for the silver haired man in her memories, though the backstory is really that of a cackling madman who started dabbling in dark arts.]

[Obviously he's just as eager to craft this story, as wildly inaccurate as it probably is.]

I'm sure a behemoth tore it off. In a rage of fury, it took both this limb and his loyal hunting partner. [This keeps getting more dramatic, but is anyone really surprised?] It's as you said; he cares for nothing more than vengeance, allowing this to be his sole motivator throughout the long years, blinded to anything and everything else.

I think it's a fine narrative. And an end point to the memories I have to offer for your entertainment.

Oh, now that is a tragedy worth weeping over. The absence of the arm reminds him of the absence of such a friend.

[they'll probably rewrite this man's backstory a dozen times, watch it.]

But if you've concluded, then it's my turn to share in the recollections. What do you want to hear of first - something that involves someone else, or things I've recalled on my own?

[It's almost a guarantee.]

Hmm.

[He considers for a moment.]

Let's start with one that involves someone else.

[she nods, thinking over her recent memories.]

The man with the silver hair showed up again. But rather than give him attention, I'm thinking of a different memory, of me being in a strange building that was almost like an impromptu hospital wing. That man I called a demon was there, with his charge. And I remember clearly telling them "I'll be seeing you soon."

That's been confusing me ever since I remembered it.

[At the mention of the man with the silver hair, his smile does falter somewhat. Her memories concerning him prior had not been pleasant ones, and so of course his automatic response is one of worry. But she moves on, and his attentions shift focus to what she's explaining.]

That is somewhat confusing. With words like that, it sounds as if this demon and his charge were almost steadfast acquaintances of yours.

[As for the setting being a hospital, Ardyn doesn't question it. It... does seem like a place a reaper might visit. Though he sees no immediate need to voice this.]

That would make more sense if I didn't feel a deep seated disdain for them. Not so much as to make me cruel, but...I know I don't like them. I think our paths just keep crossing - death following is no surprise, I'd think. Someone has to see to the results of whatever they're doing.

[demons aren't known for being nice creatures, after all. if death and bloodshed occurred, it feels only natural.]

Up to no good, then? I suppose that's to be expected from anyone who would call themselves a demon. And yet you do not have any particular violent memories with either of them, do you?

[He must admit that he's curious. What manner of death and bloodshed was there? He wishes that he could fill the holes in her narrative just as much as his own.]

Not that I can think of. But...that may change. I can't tell when certain facts will reveal themselves.

[she's up for anything, at this point.]

For a little variety, I also remember a moment of getting ready in the morning - except for some reason, my attire was a perfectly tailored black suit. That's not really my style at all, so I've no idea why I wore it.

[Certain facts revealing themselves... Well, Ardyn can't argue against that. For good or ill, that much is almost guaranteed where memories are concerned.

Her next memory is more mundane by definition, but intriguing still. He tries to imagine her wearing the described suit.]

I bet you looked striking in it, all the same. I can only assume such carefully tailored outfits are saved for the most special of occasions?

That's the thing - it didn't feel like a special occasion at all. All I recall feeling about it was that it was nothing, like I didn't want to wear it. All black for me...that'd be too dull, wouldn't it? Not even a drop of color to change things.

[you can't reap souls if you don't look cute. why even bother in that case.]

I think you'd still look exquisite, in a suit cut in all black.

[He looks at her, and it's easy to assume he may be piecing this mental image together.]

Your hair being the only vibrant swath of color, elegant and bright against the black hues. You may call it dull, but I think you'd still draw the attention of an entire room if you entered it. You'd certainly draw mine.

[Is he biased? Of course not. It is scientific fact that Grell is beautiful and fashionable and no one can fight him on this.]

Why do I have the distinct feeling you're dressing me up with your eyes?

[black, though. she'll file this information away for future reference, for her own reasons that she will not begin to disclose.]

[The most playful of shrugs. He can't deny it.]

Better than the opposite, at least?

Not that I mind either when it comes from you.

[at least she got her confirmation.]

It's a much milder memory than some of the ones I've gotten, and for that I suppose I should be grateful.

[She should know better than to say things like that? She's going to make his mind wander Places and they still have to talk about the rest of her memories and watch a movie!!!

At any rate, his grin widens and he makes a very non-committal kind of noise in the back of his throat, but he just lets the conversation continue to flow in the proper, non-distracted direction.]

Those certainly are a blessing, whenever they happen. Did you remember anything else?

[look all she's going to say is that they have the entire day to themselves and that she's not going to make him leave at any point, and maybe her eyebrow is raising a little at that grin, but if he's so intent on keeping this on the proper path, so be it.]

A few more things. One of them was that man monologuing about why he was so in love with the idea of the living dead, and one of them was so entirely mundane it consisted of nothing of me getting caught in the rain while I was headed somewhere, and I was rather annoyed at it for how I'd forgotten an umbrella.

[How intent he is remains up in the air. But he focuses his attentions on what she has to say, regardless.]

That man seems to be in your memories fairly often. An unfortunately prominent figure; do tell, why would someone be in love with the idea of the living dead?

[He can comment on the rain part next.]

[she pauses, thinking on it again, and eventually shrugs.]

He saw beauty in them, those which he called his Bizarre Dolls. That they could not speak was only a benefit, for they could not tell lies. That they had no soul was no problem. They felt neither pain nor fear, and attacked humans out of some instinct, and he said that such made them the best animal weapon there was.

Twisted, isn't the very concept such? Perhaps the reason he figures so prominently is because I intended to strike him down for all this.

[That is... both very dramatic and yes, very twisted. Not at all what Ardyn was expecting, and it shows on his face.]

It is. Both morbid and twisted, playing with life and death in such a manner. As if they were meant to be tools and little else. I wonder what his goal was, in the end?

Chaos, maybe. One thing is certain - he was quite insane.

[she shrugs, but he's right - it had made her sick in a deep way, angry to hear him talk about it. life and death must have been so important to her, more than they are now, and that explains how she felt.]

I also remember fighting him, just a little. So I think it's a fair assumption to say I wasn't going to let that stand.

[It's funny, how he still feels lingering concern for the other her in that past life. How easily he frowns at the idea of her fighting this strange, insane man, even if the possibility of this repeating itself ever again is slim to none.]

I know you don't know how this fight ended, but... [A beat.] Well, I can only hope that you were successful.

[A chuckle, despite everything.]

You say it's mundane in comparison, but I think I'd prefer the memory of the odd peacefulness of getting caught in the rain.

I wouldn't have lost without giving him a run for his money, I feel confident in saying that.

[she'd been angry enough for it, anyway. even if he had cut her chest open.]

At least the rain didn't have me angry. I was more annoyed that it happened again and that I would need to let my hair dry out. Silly, isn't it? Such things are clearly universal complaints.

[that and her hair's long, it takes time.]

That concludes the memories I had to share with you, however.

I don't mind wet hair as much as I mind wet clothing. There is nothing as frustrating -- or as cold -- as having to deal with a damp shirt for the rest of the day, because you've no change of clothes.

[But. He does rather like the dramatic imagery of being caught in the rain. It's picture perfect for a display of anger, or sorrow, or an impulsive, desperate confession of love. Like something out of a movie.

Speaking of.]

That wasn't too harrowing. [Their little sharing session of memories.] Maybe the film will make up for it.

Will it, when we both know the twists and turns?

[but she's already smiling, settling into a more comfortable position for movie watching by his side.]

If I get scared, don't laugh.

[and with that, she has the remote and is hitting play.]

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