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The mare shares willingly enough, you think, and you tilt your ears forward as she speaks, signaling to her that she has your full attention. You learn that she was born in another land, like you. You’ve never heard of Isilme, though. And star-goop? You smile inadvertently. Yes, child, perhaps that’s what your mother told you. Star-goop, your horn. More like a curse or a mysterious daddy, you think to yourself. But, if that’s the story, star-goop it is. You nod along, growing slightly uncomfortable at her mention of the undead—she says it so casually, yet you are reminded of Confutatis’ warnings of things that creep and lurk in this land. You are dwelling on the disturbing thought when something important catches your ear: the girl confesses that she has lost most of her memory. You tilt your head in the most sympathetic manner you know how. Poor thing, can’t remember where she’s been or who she’s met…though she seems to remember her childhood well enough. You wonder how far back this memory fault goes.
She is cheery though, and briefly you wonder what it must be like, to forget. Perhaps, you muse cynically, her amnesia is precisely why she is so happy—as they say, ignorance is bliss. All the times anyone has hurt her, wiped clean from her mind…but, no, you conclude firmly, it is better to remember. Without memory, there can be no true peace of mind. No safety lies in being unable to recognize your enemies, and no revenge can truly be sweet without rage properly nourished.
In response to her question regarding her brother, you shake your head no. “I haven’t had the pleasure,” you tell her, not recognizing the name. “Though I cannot claim that I remember everyone I have met in my trav—oh, how insensitive of me!” The tinkling laughter bubbles up once more in your throat. ”While we are on the subject though, tell me dear, about this memory of yours. What’s the last thing you can remember?”
@[Adele]
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