Memories are strange things. Some stick with you, forever imprinted in your mind like a brand. But there are others, fleeting things that quickly pass into oblivion. But to most, memories are things that remain to oneself. Personal things, that can only be shared through stories. But to others, they are a bit easier to share, though it requires the use of arcane methods.
A young Altalar, hardly ten years old, perched on her knees in front of a man. This man shared the same long, dark blonde curls and light cobalt blue eyes with the child, leaving little doubt that these two were related. Perhaps even father and daughter. The man held the child's small hands in his own, gently guiding them up to his temples. "It's alright," He mumbled down to the girl, a soft smile on his features "It isn't much different from extracting one of your memories. Just focus." The child responded with a mere "Okay", then went about her work. Through the recitation of a spell, memorymancy, she pulled a silver fluid from the man's temples. She stared at it in wonder once it was done, but a gentle nudge from the man caused her to remember her job. She quickly spun to a bowl full of water next to the two and released the fluid into it.
Two clasped hands appeared, then the memory panned up to a face. A face with features similar to the girls, yet more mature, accented with strawberry blonde hair and steely grey eyes. The individual uttered something unheard, then grinned. Something else must have been said, or done, by whoever she was looking at, as she laughed. The memory then panned to what was in front of the two, revealing a street in an ever-familiar city, and began to slowly move down it. The memory continued that way, with occasional glances to the woman, before fading off.
The girl looked up to the man, her mouth hanging slightly open in preparation for a question. But the man gave a soft chuckle, a sad smile appearing on his face. "That, baby girl, was your mother." The girl pushed her mouth shut, then slowly nodded. She was old enough to understand that her mother was no longer alive, that she was different from some of her peers in that regard. But she did not yet know why. "Do you miss her?" she softly whispered to the man, her eyes going up to meet his. "Yes." The girl, silent for a few moments, then moved forward and squished her father into a hug. He returned it in kind, gently wrapping his arms around his daughter.
The two remained that way for a while. They were a family of two when there should have been three, yes. But it was the fault of no one that that was their situation.
A young Altalar, hardly ten years old, perched on her knees in front of a man. This man shared the same long, dark blonde curls and light cobalt blue eyes with the child, leaving little doubt that these two were related. Perhaps even father and daughter. The man held the child's small hands in his own, gently guiding them up to his temples. "It's alright," He mumbled down to the girl, a soft smile on his features "It isn't much different from extracting one of your memories. Just focus." The child responded with a mere "Okay", then went about her work. Through the recitation of a spell, memorymancy, she pulled a silver fluid from the man's temples. She stared at it in wonder once it was done, but a gentle nudge from the man caused her to remember her job. She quickly spun to a bowl full of water next to the two and released the fluid into it.
An image began to take shape in the water.
Two clasped hands appeared, then the memory panned up to a face. A face with features similar to the girls, yet more mature, accented with strawberry blonde hair and steely grey eyes. The individual uttered something unheard, then grinned. Something else must have been said, or done, by whoever she was looking at, as she laughed. The memory then panned to what was in front of the two, revealing a street in an ever-familiar city, and began to slowly move down it. The memory continued that way, with occasional glances to the woman, before fading off.
The girl looked up to the man, her mouth hanging slightly open in preparation for a question. But the man gave a soft chuckle, a sad smile appearing on his face. "That, baby girl, was your mother." The girl pushed her mouth shut, then slowly nodded. She was old enough to understand that her mother was no longer alive, that she was different from some of her peers in that regard. But she did not yet know why. "Do you miss her?" she softly whispered to the man, her eyes going up to meet his. "Yes." The girl, silent for a few moments, then moved forward and squished her father into a hug. He returned it in kind, gently wrapping his arms around his daughter.
The two remained that way for a while. They were a family of two when there should have been three, yes. But it was the fault of no one that that was their situation.
