#thread: of memory

[etcile-archive-blog]

Of Memory - Serena & Sycamore

There is a goddess of memory but not one of forgetting. The latter should have one, for forgetting is just as important as the being of memory. Amnesia is a more extreme form of forgetting and it is easy to sympathise but not to empathise. For how few know what it is like to suddenly wake up and not remember anything?

Sycamore wakes up, head completely thrashed. No memories come but he can see the tear stains on his sheets and he can feel the sticky residue upon his cheeks. Tonight, he is to meet Serena at a gala dinner held in honour of those who have obtained the Medal of Kalos. He gets up, head spinning still and the tears come.

No memories.

Just sadness.

He gets ready, reaches there at a quarter to eight and his mussed hair, uncombed, already drawing admiring women and men. Serena, cheri! he calls out to the young girl bedecked in jewels and wearing a shimmering dress. The whispers die down and flare up again as he heads towards her.

He puts on his best smile and dressed in a plain black suit, flashes pearly white teeth at the crowds.

Perhaps it is not too extreme to call him a ladykiller.

Vous vous appellez, Serena? Bien, non? You have saved us all and I thank you for it, he adds the last portion in a lowered whisper, still ashamed. He could have seen it but he ignored it. Fiery passion. The only thing that can burn brighter than an actual flame.

He sweeps through the crowd, drawing her along, until they reach a table with her friends and other dignitaries. A lot of handshakes and how are you’s pass.

He begins the night with his first drink.