[It isn't helping, but listening to Zelda talk is a memory he does have, and it's calming even if her words themselves are not. Link sinks against her, curled tightly against her side.
This? He can do this for hours. And if he does, he doesn't have to think on the fact that he has almost no memory whatsoever of the family he'd left behind a century before.]
What do you remember?
[He's quiet as he asks, right hand tracing the grout of tiles as his left digs tightly into his leg in an attempt to be still. It hurts but it's grounding, and he needs that more. And regardless, he is in no way bold enough to grab for her hand, so this will have to do.]
[Honesty is best here. She can't hide the reality of their situation, even if she would wish to. While he had slept and recovered, she had been aware and fighting--even if she is from a time before that, she knows that is the inevitability of her choices.
She sighs as he settles against her. There's a moment of hesitation, but she reaches to gently comb her fingers through his hair. There, in her vaguest of memories, is that thought that this was always something that helped to comfort her and maybe it could do the same for him.]
There are some things I would wish to forget if I could, forgive me for such a thought. I...If you remember anything and need to know more, I can do my best to answer you.
[Would that hinder his progress? Or would it be a kindness to help him know more without trying to force memories that may never come?]
[She brushes fingers through his hair, and he dips his head, a knot twisting deep within him. Allura had asked him once, if he'd wanted her to try and help him remember, too. To use her magic to pull his latent past to the surface.
He had told her no, for some innocuous reason. Avoiding the fact that he's sure the goddesses have taken his memories as punishment for his failure, that he deserved only the barest information to allow him to complete his divine mission.
But there's always been more to it, too.
Fear.]
Sometimes I'm... [His voice is quiet and worn, with no hint of malice at her mention of sometimes wanting to forget. Missing the bulk of his memories hasn't changed that he can relate to a desire to not remember.
He swallows, and hesitates. When he finishes his thought, his voice is small and ashamed.] Sometimes I'm scared to remember more, too.
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no subject
Date: 2020-10-07 03:09 pm (UTC)This? He can do this for hours. And if he does, he doesn't have to think on the fact that he has almost no memory whatsoever of the family he'd left behind a century before.]
What do you remember?
[He's quiet as he asks, right hand tracing the grout of tiles as his left digs tightly into his leg in an attempt to be still. It hurts but it's grounding, and he needs that more. And regardless, he is in no way bold enough to grab for her hand, so this will have to do.]
no subject
Date: 2020-10-18 05:14 pm (UTC)[Honesty is best here. She can't hide the reality of their situation, even if she would wish to. While he had slept and recovered, she had been aware and fighting--even if she is from a time before that, she knows that is the inevitability of her choices.
She sighs as he settles against her. There's a moment of hesitation, but she reaches to gently comb her fingers through his hair. There, in her vaguest of memories, is that thought that this was always something that helped to comfort her and maybe it could do the same for him.]
There are some things I would wish to forget if I could, forgive me for such a thought. I...If you remember anything and need to know more, I can do my best to answer you.
[Would that hinder his progress? Or would it be a kindness to help him know more without trying to force memories that may never come?]
no subject
Date: 2020-10-19 02:17 pm (UTC)He had told her no, for some innocuous reason. Avoiding the fact that he's sure the goddesses have taken his memories as punishment for his failure, that he deserved only the barest information to allow him to complete his divine mission.
But there's always been more to it, too.
Fear.]
Sometimes I'm... [His voice is quiet and worn, with no hint of malice at her mention of sometimes wanting to forget. Missing the bulk of his memories hasn't changed that he can relate to a desire to not remember.
He swallows, and hesitates. When he finishes his thought, his voice is small and ashamed.] Sometimes I'm scared to remember more, too.