“That,” he answers, as calmly as he can manage, “was precisely what we were trying to stop from happening.“ She’s covered in soot and dust, and there’s the cloying stench of burned hair when some of it has been singed off, but whatever scars this ordeal has left must be purely emotional, not physical. It takes him a moment, but the more he looks, the more obvious it is that she isn’t injured. “What in the seven hells was that?” she demands, in half a snarl. so it shouldn’t come as a surprise when, after the dust settles, she grabs him by the shirt and slams him into the nearest wall. When faced with such extreme, life-threatening scenarios, fresh-faced adventurers tend to react in a number of ways: they collapse they weep they turn on the people closest to them in proximity, as the embers that had kept them alive and on their feet through the ordeal have yet to fully die down. He’s not fast enough to stop her from fighting that thing alone. He’s not fast enough to stop Ranni from going in there alone. He’s not fast enough to stop the summoning. He’s not fast enough - not even when it’s already over. Hibiscus-tome: wolcred week 2023, day 1: scars The Lalafellan innkeeper waves her hand before Ranni’s face, her easy, suddenly familiar smile melting away into something far more concerned as she says-) There’s bottles attached to a belt sitting at her hips, and herbs tucked away in a satchel strapped to her thigh, and none of it means anything, yet it clearly must have at some point for her to carry it on her person. Long enough that though she doesn’t recognize the innkeeper yet, even when the innkeeper clearly recognizes her, the inn itself feels familiar. … wait, how long has she been here, exactly? Long enough that walking through the gates doesn’t feel entirely new. Hums noncommittally when the merchant speaks to her of jewels and riches and adventure, as if she’s some tourist and hasn’t been living in Thanalan for the better part of… (In a long, long journey to Ul’dah, Ranni boards the caravan. Recognition in Urianger’s eyes the day she first came to the Scions’ base of operations, Minfilia’s all too thorough explanations of Sharlayan and its various research groups despite all the evidence that Ranni had spent more than enough of her life in one of them, Alphinaud’s thinly veiled attempts at blackmail when she threatened to walk away after the Waking Sands had been raided - that no one had challenged her on it is nothing short of a miracle. ![]() ![]() It’s not like she’s… talked about this before at length with anyone, after it had first become obvious that there were numerous holes and frayed edges where parts of her memory should be - but it has to be obvious at this point, that there are entire histories she can no longer speak to, even if no one will utter it aloud. She steals a piece of fruit from Thancred’s plate, if only for the welcome distraction. Ranni lays the question there at their shared table in the Waking Sands’ library, amidst the last lit candle flickering between them and Urianger’s soft snoring from over by the bookshelf. “Did you know my memory is completely wrecked?” Hibiscus-tome: wolcred week 2023, day 2: memory
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