#raw remembrance

[project-revival-theory]

He's alive. He's alive and well, in a way. He's cared for. He has family and friends and colleagues and children, a wife and grandchildren. Isn't it odd? You're an- aunt. Uncle? Great aunt even.

But.. yeah. Dementia.

I'm sorry.

Don't... Be sorry.

[Otto was right. Ant is alive, and falling to the same disease as the majority of that side of the family. He runs his fingers over the bow an anon left behind, and takes it in. His brother has a family and friends around him, a large circle of support in his final years, so he won't suffer too much... And if he does, he may not remember. What a terrifying thought.]

[Is it wrong to grieve a man who still lives, purely because you were not there to see it?]

Thank you. For... This. Tell-ing me. I am, glad... That he did- well. In his life.

[project-revival-theory]

Just asked what happened to Ant. I can't say but. You better keep your brain sharp or I will be very sad and cry, okay?

[That's an alarming message, with implications he'd rather not consider, but he will all the same. What else is there to do?]

Okay.

[Otto's brother may be dead, may be alive. It's impossible to tell from what he has been given. What he does know, now- or what he assumes- is that Ant was not given the option of keeping his mind sharp. Something happened. A head injury, a withdrawal similar to the one Otto very nearly lost himself to, some genetic condition... Like their grandmother's Alzheimer's, and likely her father before her, though he was never diagnosed with anything at all. It's not impossible: not even particularly improbable. He wonders whether his mother went through the same.]

I... Will try.

[Nothing is certain. He does not know if he's come to the right conclusion, and until he finds out, he will hope he has not.]

[project-revival-theory]

What was Anthony like?

[Otto closes his eyes and turns the question over in his mind, searching for the best answer he can give in what few words he can manage. He doesn't realize how long he's been thinking until his arm goes numb and he has to move it, supporting with his other hand. It is a difficult question. He hopes the anon hasn't been standing and waiting for an answer.]

Ant... Is more- clever, than I. But he thinks... He's stron-ger, than... He is. Physi-ca... lly.

[Again, that weak, wheezing laughter.]

Stron-ger than me, now. At least.

He wan-ted, to be... A dan-cer. Of some sort. When he was- young. Our, father... Dis-couraged him. He went... To school, for com-puter. Science. I won-der... If he found, a... way. To do both.

[project-revival-theory]

{Once properly alone, with just enough time for the quiet to settle into your mind, a vision is cast over you quite suddenly.}

{You are outside, the grass soft underfoot. The warmth of the sun a comfortable contrast to the coolness of the earth. The next sense to be brought is hearing, as you become aware of familiar laughter, almost-identical to your own. Your self-proclaimed "older" brother.}

{As you tussle about, laughing in harmony, he lifts you up in an attempt to pull you onto his back. Briefly, he is successful, but you both tumble to the ground moments later. The shock of the earth hitting your back is a harsh impact, but the winded feeling is quickly replaced by laughter once again.}

{The vision wavers briefly. Strength fading.}

{Once it restores itself, you are swept back up in the moment. The efforts to lift you continue, though not very successfully. As the memory trails on, you feel a sense of contentment settle in your chest, replacing the now-familiar weight of pain.}

{It lasts for quite some time. Several minutes, perhaps more, it is hard to tell. When it finally leaves you, it fades slowly, giving you time to adjust back to reality.}

-🥀

[Otto is surprised to find that his face is wet. It’s not that he doesn’t cry, but usually it’s a simple release of stress- and he’s not going to think about that now. He refuses to taint the gift he’s been offered, so he rollsbreathe to rest his back against the wall and remembers.]

[I miss you. I miss you, I miss you, I love you.]

[This is the first time in an unmeasurable length of time that the longing grows to a physical ache. He welcomes it, holds it as long as it needs to be held, and lets it pass.]

[project-revival-theory]

{You hear a voice in your mind. Soft, and something you certainly recognize, but you cannot identify what it sounds like.}

Hello. You seem as though you might benefit from something to occupy your mind.

Do you have any favourite memories that linger with you?

Ah... as for a response, if you just think of it, perhaps hum out loud as you do, if you're able... that should convey it well enough. I imagine speech is difficult for you.

-🥀

[His eyes dart around the room for the source of the new voice. It does not belong to Eight, nor himself, and it doesn't seem to come from any direction in particular.]

[Very well. Whoever you are, if you are, I don't see any harm in it.]

[He tries to imagine. The first thing that comes to mind is the not-quite-dream from the other day, but this is a recent memory, and not one he needs to revisit just yet.]

[I remember... A brother. An older brother, by a total of twenty-eight minutes, though you wouldn't have known it from how he acted. We didn't often get along, but my fondest memories are of the exception to the rule.]

[I remember being nine years old by a technicality, Ant ten, insisting that now he was a decade old he was much stronger than I and repeatedly failing to carry me on his back. The memory is not clear; I was lightly concussed by the end of the day.]

[rawrevelations-blog]

Raw Remembrance: Alexander McQueen

I stumbled upon this picture in a folder on my lappy and was compelled to pay tribute to the late, great designer Alexander McQueen. The one year anniversary of his death was in February. His work is so monumental and epic. The video below is of "Plato's Atlantis," which was the last collection he designed and showed before passing. Long Live McQueen.

[rawrevelations-blog]

Raw Remembrance: Elizabeth Taylor

Actress, mogul, and most of all... a bad bitch! She leaves behind a legacy that will be a tough act to follow. Rest in peace.