You just fucking said you didn't want those memories in your head! How else would you force yourself to forget them?! Amnesia is very common when one suffers from blunt force trauma!
Oh, for fuck's sake. See to your goddamn arm already. The four of us can heal twice each week and I've only gotten asked once each time, there is no fucking reason why people should just sit there with their injuries when they fucking have options.
[speaking of memories! there's another shower of stardust.
You walk alongside your companion, following a much smaller guide to your destination.
The mood is somber, which is unsurprising. Morale in general has been low for weeks now, and your own morale has absolutely tanked this weekend. You can still hardly believe that he is gone. Having found the person who took his life does not make it better at all; you had thought that you would feel something, having avenged him, but mostly you feel numb.
Your companion speaks.
"—So you know, what you see will probably alarm you some. But I can guarantee it's an excellent method of preserving the dead."
You go a little tense, but you nod. Better for him to be preserved than not.
"I... I see. I will attempt to steel myself."
Your guide leads you on until you arrive at your destination. You step through the entrance, are welcomed in by the person whose space this is - "Please come in. I'm... sorry if it's a little alarming." - and look around. It's a cavern, with some touches that make it look lived in, but the most striking thing about it is the pool of deep red water.
It smells of blood.
Your companion explains your purpose in coming here and makes his way to the edge of the pool of blood, unpacking suture kit; you follow, trying not to breathe the scent of the blood in too deeply. You know from their explanation that it's necessary to preserve the bodies, and you're not unfamiliar with the scent; you're a healer, and you've seen your fair share of bloodshed. But that doesn't mean you revel in it.
You certainly don't revel in this, either.
Your companion and your host look down into the pool for the body - and the head - of the person you have come here for. You start to reach out, as well, but your companion asks for your host's help, rather than yours, and you're left feeling a little uncertain. Your host, when he gets hold of the body, is careful not to pull him all the way out.
"I know this must be... difficult to see. They can't leave the pool entirely. But I can... hold him, for you both. To let you work."
Your companion retrieves his head, asks you to thread the needle, and then -
"I'll show you how to do the first few stitches, and then I can help hold him steady if you'd like to take over from there. We could do it the other way around, too."
"I can do that." You want to help. You need to do something to help, because you could do nothing to prevent this death. This feels like it's the best you can do for him. "...I would like to do the stitching, once I have seen how. I know in theory, but..."
You think back to the needlework you've done before. The delicate sprigs of lavender you stitched into a scarf, so you could hide it and surprise him with the gift, and your heart feels heavy. You hand the threaded needle over to your companion when the head is back in place where it needs to be, and he shows you just how to stitch.
It isn't so different.
He holds the needle out to you, and you take it. It's slow going, and you struggle with detail-oriented tasks even at the best of times. But this is important, and you give it your all. One stitch, after another, after another. Slow and methodical, but precise.
It takes time, but you had spent so much time with him before he died.
You can at least spend this amount of time with him now.
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[virgo is this advice]
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Nor do I care to rely upon precedent and assume you shall not all be needed the next time-- but should it prove possible this week, then I will.
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You may cease your bitching, then. I shall-- after others are seen to, if it continues to be a necessity this week.
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[he grumbles- but, well.
speaking of bitching!]
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uh]
What the fuck happened there.
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[he reaches up to rub at his face, with a frustrated sigh.]
...my future self happened, evidently. Whoever saved him shouldn't have bothered.
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[like... hello...]
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[he is judging future emet so fucking hard for thinking about how convenient it is to be saved when he started it]
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[he's not sure he wants the context, either.]
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He seems like an-- asshole.
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[speaking of memories! there's another shower of stardust.
virgo freezes.]
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this doesn't seem like them at all?
it takes a moment to shake off the sight, the body and the pool of blood and what they were doing.]
-Virgo?
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What?!
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