carrionmywaywardsun | Imeeji: Memory Registry

Lists regained memories in chronological order. Will be updated as he takes more memories.

[010] and a mango
[012] happy families are all alike
[007] Do Not Talk Back to Me, I am Head of the Household Now
[004] spending time with unsuitable friends, war is looming
[002] hanging out with his sister until his brother RUINS EVERYTHING
[011] yer a sergeant, *******
[009] meeting ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^^^^^
[001] friendship time with Shrike
[013] good riddance to that sad son of a bitch
[003] causing problems mostly on purpose
[005] “Shut up, I need to kill some fucking horses.”
[008] Ghost sakura viewing party
[006] friends with benefits and backstabbing

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From:

carrionmywaywardsun

The broadcast opens on Crow walking through a large encampment. It’s bustling, full of men and woman in uniform, a row of them jogging past in formation—an army camp. Crow himself is also in uniform, though he doesn’t look quite as he does now. He’s younger, in his mid-twenties, and his hair’s black without any red, his eyes a warm brown. He looks tired, but it’s a normal kind of tired, rather than the sickly look he has now.

He suddenly speeds up, sneaking up quietly on a taller, broader figure in the distance—at the last moment, he grabs her by the shoulders, making her jump, before quickly ducking away when she turns around to see who it was.

Surprise—it’s Shrike, but Shrike as she was before her exaltation, tan and black-haired, wearing the same uniform as Crow and everyone else in the camp.

“Who—*******!”

Crow laughs. “Gotcha!”

Shrike looks at him ruefully. “I never should have made that bet with you.”

He grins. “It’s not too late to take it back~”

She shakes her head. “There’s still a month and a half left.” Shrike bumps his shoulder with hers as they fall into step, continuing the way she’d been going before Crow surprised her. “I’ll catch you yet.”

Crow bumps her shoulder back. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, ^^^^^^^.”

They continue on for a bit, agreeing to head for the mess tent and chatting in a familiar way about recent events, a little gossip about the other lieutenants, some of the latest news from around camp or from the capital.

Eventually, Crow gently nudges Shrike in the ribs with his elbow. “Dove says thanks for the book recommendation, by the way.”

Shrike lights up at that. “Oh… Distant Waters? That’s really great, I wasn’t sure about that one, but you said she liked Abject Tern’s essays...”

“Yeah, she’s loving it. She’s at the part about the waterfall.”

“I love the part about the waterfall...”

Before the conversation can continue to the merits of the part about the waterfall, an alarm sounds over the camp, along with a call to assemble. Both Shrike and Crow stop dead and look at each other, stricken.

Crow pulls up a smile. “Guess we’ll have to eat later.”

Shrike’s already stepping away, nodding. “Later. I should—” she points off into the distance.

“Yeah—yeah, me too.”

They take off running in different directions, and the broadcast ends.

Notes:
- From context, ******* and ^^^^^^^ are clearly two different names, but they’re both fuzzed into static; try as you might, you can't make out either.
- By their uniforms, Shrike and Crow were of the same rank.
- ^^^^^^^ is his good buddy!
- Dove is his younger sister.
- Soft spot for giant fucking nerds: activate!
- Skill Gain: sneakiness

Edited Date: 2021-09-12 07:22 pm (UTC)

From:

carrionmywaywardsun

The memory opens in a small study dominated by a desk covered in writing instruments—calligraphy brushes, sheafs of paper, an inkstone and stick of ink—and books. Lots and lots of books are stacked unsteadily by the desk, while the shelves that line the wall standhalf empty.

A younger Valor, around 20 or so, is seated on the floor next to the desk with a small piece of wood in his hand, which he is currently whittling into a small rounded shape over a cloth laid out across his lap.

Seated at the desk is a girl in her mid-teens who bears a distinct resemblance to Valor. She’s sitting with her back ramrod straight, gaze focused on the far wall and she recites what sounds like and complex passage from memory. Valor nods along, half-listening as he keeps carving the wood in his hands.

Suddenly, the girl breaks off her recitation, reaching for the book splayed open in her lap. “Wait, wait… Augh, it’s supposed to be ‘the silvered moon, not silvery,’ I always forget that...”

“Hey, you were pretty close,” Valor says encouragingly, brushing some sawdust off the half-carved figure in his hands.

The girl pages furiously through through the book, reviewing the dense text and her notes. “Close isn’t good enough, *******. It needs to be perfect, or I won’t—”

The narrow door to the study bursts open. Standing in the doorway is a tired-looking young man a few years older than Valor.

“What are you doing here?” he demands, looking at Valor.

Valor leans back against the wall to look up at him, apparently at ease, though his hand remains slightly tensed around the block of wood in his lap. “I’m off this morning.”

“You can’t just take off whenever you feel like it. Who’s supposed to cover the store?”

Valor shrugs. “Whoever you got to cover for me? You said it would be okay.”

The young man’s mouth thins. His gaze darts to the girl and then back to Valor. “We’ll talk about this outside.”

Silence stretches out for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then Valor starts gathering up his things, the little block of wood, the knife, the cloth he’d spread out to catch the sawdust. As he stands up, though, the girl suddenly breaks in, saying, “Heron, he did ask. Remember, it was when we were eating the longan Uncle Crake brought over....”

The young man pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dove… This doesn’t concern you. Focus on studying.”

Valor ruffles Dove’s hair on his way to the door. “Keep going, you almost had it.” He gives her another encouraging smile as he pulls the study door closed behind him.

Heron and Valor stand facing each other in a narrow hallway, and then by silent agreement move away from the study door.

“I can’t believe you made Dove cover for you,” Heron says first.

“I didn’t make Dove do anything!”

“You should know better than to get her involved, she needs to focus on studying—”

“I told you, I didn’t—”

“—and you can’t keep distracting her like this. You know how important it is for her to get into the Academy—”

“I wasn’t distracting her—”

“—and you need to stop being so irresponsible with the shop.” Heron glares at Valor. “That shop is ALL we have and you know it!”

After glaring back for a moment, Valor steps back and runs a hand through his hair, before turning away.

“*******! Get back here!”

“I’m getting changed.” Valor doesn’t turn around. “Unless you do have someone to cover for me?”

Heron’s mouth thins. “...Hurry up.”

The route back to his room takes Valor back past the study. The study door is slightly ajar, but as he rounds the corner, the door jerks shut.

So. Dove heard all of that.

Great.

- Aside from being younger, Valor noticeably is missing the red streaks in his hair, has brown eyes instead of red, and also doesn't look like he's wasting away from an incurable illness.
- Dove is his baby sister. She’s studying for the Royal Civil Service Academy entrance exams and it’s Very Important for her to do well.
- Heron is his brother and he’s a JERK!1 But he is right about the shop.
- haha wow is it weird to have this many feelings about a memory because this feels like an overwhelming number of feelings it’s like he hasn’t had feelings about his own memories for a long time or something haha weird huh
- Skill Gain: whittling!

Edited Date: 2021-10-04 01:23 am (UTC)

From:

carrionmywaywardsun

It’s a hot, bright afternoon. The street, lined with grand-looking buildings, is mostly empty because most people are inside, hiding from the heat. Everyone except Valor, leaning against one of said grand-looking buildings. He has a bored expression on his face as he cuts slices out of a red bell-shaped fruit with a knife, eating each slice off the blade.

Valor stands out like a stray splotch of ink against the colorful facades, dressed in black and gray robes. Fragments of bone dangle from his belt and are threaded on cords looped around his wrists; some human, some not. A crow’s skull dangles from his neck. He could stand to blend in more, but fuck that: he wouldn’t be standing here long enough to be noticed if Rain weren’t so fucking late.

A couple guys cross the far side of the street at the edge of his vision; he doesn’t know if they’re soldiers or police or what, but he recognizes a uniform when he sees one. They pause, conferring urgently between themselves, before one of them marches across the street to plant himself right in front of Valor.

“No loitering,” he says. “Move along.”

Valor looks at him, knife pausing halfway to his mouth. Rain’s got until he’s done with his snack to show up, he decides. “No.”

Across the street, his partner hisses something which sounds an awful lot like, You stupid fuck, let it go.

You Stupid Fuck does not let it go. He squares his shoulders. Puts a hand on the baton dangling from his belt for good measure. “No loitering,” he repeats.

Valor looks You Stupid Fuck dead in the eye, chewing lazily. “Nah. I like the shade.”

You Stupid Fuck does not look like he was prepared for this level of resistance. He half turns back to look at his partner, as if to ask to help. This is why he doesn’t see Valor cram the last third of the fruit in his mouth as his knife hand darts forward, because he’s a stupid fuck who showed someone with a knife his soft, bare throat. Some people are just fucking asking to die.

Partner across the street does see it, though, which is why he shouts “WIND!” right before Valor’s knife plunges into You Stupid Fuck’s neck.

Stepping around You Stupid Fuck’s falling body, Valor tosses the knife from the hand at You Stupid Fuck’s neck to his free hand. Partner across the street looks frozen with shock, which is why he makes an easy target when Valor catches the knife and flips it around before throwing it across the street and into his throat.

Blood splatters across the street from both bodies. The scent of life leaking away is familiar by now, and something contented purrs in the back of his head. It’s too bad he can’t stick around to soak in the panic and fear and death; someone’s already started shouting for the militia. Valor quickly crosses the street to retrieve his knife, scanning the buildings for an escape route. But then—a tall pale figure in dark clothes appears a few blocks away.

“Crow!” The figure looks distressed by the scene. Also, pissed off. “What did you—”

“Heyyyyy, Rain!” Valor calls, grinning. Never mind, new plan. This is too perfect to pass up. “Catch!”

Rain is thrown off storming toward him by the knife thrown at her face. She snatches it out of the air—just in time to see Valor duck down a sidestreet, yelling, “THERE’S THE MURDERER! DON’T LET HER GET AWAY!”

Despite Valor making no real effort to stay hidden, no one looks twice at him as he weaves through the growing crowd, not even the militia who storm straight past him toward the scene of the crime.

- Valor looks similar to his current self with the sickly complexion, etc. Maybe a couple years younger.
- Rain is a color-swapped version of his good buddy ^^^^^^^ somehow. They are definitely not buddies anymore. :( (And yes it's Shrike.)
- Okay but that was hilarious though have fun dealing with the militia while standing over two of their dead buddies with a bloody knife in your hand. (Inside you there are two wolves…)
- Awareness that he channeled Essence for his little vanishing act at the end.
- Desire for goth jewelry increases.
- Skill Gain: thrown weapons (no stab, only throw)

Visual References Because I Can
- small red bell-shaped fruit
- black and gray robes but with more bones (is this just an excuse to have Crow cosplay Xue Yang? Maybe.)

Edited Date: 2021-10-04 01:16 am (UTC)