Headcannons | Barre
- He carries around a book with him all the time, an idea he had no long ago to help with his memory. At first, it was something to keep to-do lists in but eventually it became a journal of sorts that he writes his thoughts in. It annoys the others, because he is constantly scribbling in the book, even blatantly writing about them right in front of them. Someone could say something to him and he’d give a little ‘hm’ and start writing.
- He loves reading stories, but above all he loves art and paintings. There’s not much access around the Compound to art but he reads about it and there are books with pictures. His favourite is Almond Blossoms by Van Gogh.
- He’s very excitable and fun-loving. He used to enjoy playing and telling stories to the others but since the deterioration of his memory, he finds himself telling them the same stories, and finding they want to have fun with him a lot less.
- He’s a rather anxious person, and VERY emotional. He’s easily wound up by Januarius’s comments targeted towards him and cries easily, at a good book or if someone says something mean to him. He’s overly-sensitive and everyone knows it.Â
- Forgetting things makes him panic, he feels like he’s losing his grip on reality and every time he reaches into the void of his brain and comes up with nothing, he gets freaked out. He’s learned to hide it from the staff, though, who seem to be monitoring his memory closer and closer.
- He has TERRIBLE handwriting, good look trying to read his book.
- His relationship with Adauctus felt motherly to him, like she took care of him and protected him. He’s worried he’ll forget about her now that she’s not around anymore.Â
- He hates confrontation so oftentimes he won’t say how he feels to someone, he’ll just write it down and bottle it up until he works up the bravery to say something. So his book is filled with bad stuff about the others that he was too scared to say out loud.
- His frustration towards his memory has definitely manifested itself in him and he’s becoming more and more of an angry person. Usually he’s emotional and he will cry and maybe snap at someone on occasion, but now he has changed to fully lashing out at people (especially those that taunt him).
- He’s trying to hold on to the happy version of himself that was excited about things and loved talking and playing, now he has a constant feeling of hopelessness. He tries not to wonder about the harvesting process, he’s almost accepted that it is his fate.
- He tries to (annoyingly) make friends with staff. Since the others began to roll their eyes every time he spoke, he now directs his stories and rambles to the staff, who are usually unresponsive but it’s still nice to talk to someone.
- He doesn’t like shoes, and always walks around with bare feet.
They keep telling me Adauctus is gone. I laugh, I tell them, ‘you’re messing with me.’ as they always do. And then they show me, for the fifth, maybe the sixth time. It stuck that time. It didn’t slip from my mind like everything else. It pushed itself to the front and stayed there. I can’t think of anything else. But, she isn’t gone. That’s the worst part. She’s still here, but it’s not her. She’s empty, like a book with all the pages ripped out.Â
My heart feels like that, too.Â
I read about people, it’s my favourite thing to read about; real people. And it’s interesting to think; real people aren’t made. Real people are born. They are products of love between their mothers and their fathers. And their mothers, they love their children more than anything. They take care of them, and make them feel happy and guide them on their way in the world.Â
I think Adauctus was like my mother. Everything always makes me so afraid, but she was comforting. She told me it was okay to be the way I was and love the things I love. She protected me from the others. She praised me for right and scolded me for wrong. I finally understand everything I’ve been reading about. There was always one thing in stories that I could never really understand, the thing that real people have to deal with. Loss. When Hermione lost Mamillius, she died of grief. I think I might die. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. If my fate is to become the ghost of myself, like her, then maybe dying of heartbreak would be a pleasure.Â
Adauctus, I am so scared without you. I can’t protect myself. Not even my own brain is on my side, so what do I do? Without you here, how will I live? Am I supposed to be happy? My mind is slowly slipping away and now you are, too. Without you here, how will I remember you? What if I forget who you are?
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