evocation | ⚡ hadriel

[He manages a faint smile at that.]

I'm glad I'm here too.

[For multiple reasons; as terrible as this place is at lot of the time, there are good points to it, and more than that... He's alive here, and that means he can have hope.]

And... Thank you, for being here yourself, and for listening.

[It's hard to say how much he appreciates not only that she was willing to do so, but that she made it possible to trust her enough to talk in the first place.]

[She smiles a little. She's really, really glad she didn't screw this up.]

You always listen to me when I need you, right?

[It's difficult to say yes, since he feels like he hasn't really done a lot for her, but he knows he may not be the best judge of that at the moment. So instead he gives a small nod and another weak smile.]

Yeah, and if you ever need to talk in the future...

[He wants to help, especially after this. He's pretty much disqualified himself from giving any sort of professional advice at this point, but he can still help as a friend.

And that said, he actually takes a bite of one of the chips, and wow. Not just food, but food with flavor; how he missed you.]

Yeah, I know. But I'm doing okay.

[For now, anyway, and she doesn't want him to start worrying about her when he's got enough crap on his plate.]

That's good to hear.

[He means it, but he definitely wouldn't want her not to talk to him if it weren't the case just because he's dealing with things. That's the same reason--one of them, anyway--he's been avoiding talking to anyone himself, after all.]

Have things settled a little more with Washington?

[As far as the whole year apart thing goes.]

Oh, um, yeah. Mostly.

[She thinks? It feels complicated, somehow.]

That isn't a very confident answer.

[He won't press further than that both out of respect and because he's too drained to do so, but he still wants to make it clear that if she wants to talk she should go ahead.]

[She makes a face at him.]

It's not like there's anything wrong, it's just... you know. If we ever go home... When we go home.

[He looks faintly amused at the expression, reaching to pick up his own bag of chips and then pull his legs up onto the couch to settle in more.]

People here have talked about the idea of going to other worlds, if given the choice.

[He says it neutrally, but the implied question of whether either of them has put any thought into that is probably clear.]

Yeah. His world sucks.

[She shrugs, busying herself with digging out another handful of chips.]

I offered, but... [What Wash's answer was is probably obvious.] Besides, it's not like... you know. If I didn't even remember anything... It's not like it matters.

[She's super chill and none of this bothers her, obviously!]

[Ah. Yeah, that's... A complicated situation, and at least the one good thing about his own is that he doesn't have to worry about this sort of thing. He's still worried about looking for other options, but that's a different issue.]

I wonder if the effect on our memories is caused by the Door in general, as a part of the random process; if we were able to choose when and where we go, would we still lose our memories?

[An answer to that would clear up a lot of things; his own increasingly far-fetched chance at evading his fate depends on being able to remember his time here, too.]

I don't know.

[Kyna shifts uncomfortable, pressing herself against the back of the couch.]

There are ways to wipe memories with magic, and ways to fix it or protect yourself from it, but... I don't know how the Door works. I don't know if it is magic.

[He's quiet for a few seconds, considering that and what they do know about how things work, including that people can leave and return and their memories seem dependent on location. But it isn't totally consistent; some people come back with no memory of being here before, after all.]

There are also... Not exactly 'normal', but known ways of losing and regaining memories for various reasons that are physiological, psychological, or both. For instance, repressed memories can often be regained through a specific trigger; if that's the cause, the Door might repress one's memories but a return to Hadriel could prompt the memories to return also.

[The subject is of course a complicated one, but worth considering.]

Don't people repress memories when they're like... traumatized or something? How would the Door do that?

This place itself is pretty traumatizing.

[So maybe the shock of returning home causes it, or maybe going through the Door itself is traumatizing and just takes the memory of this place with it. No one remembers coming through it to get here, after all.]

I guess so. Maybe.

[She's still leaning towards the magic theory.]

Maybe we can figure out a way to keep our memories or something.

Maybe. I hope so.

[Whatever the cause ends up being.]

Although Sorrow seemed to be the only god with any real knowledge about the Door.

[So asking about it might be a problem.]

[She nods at that, then groans, tilting her head back against the couch.]

God, this sucks.

It totally sucks.

[He sinks a little further into the corner of the couch himself, nibbling on a chip.]

[She tilts her head back up, considers him for a second, then tosses a chip at his face. Considering her terrible aim, it likely misses. Rude, Kyna.]

[It does miss, especially since chips are not super aerodynamic, but that means it just bounces off his shoulder and onto his sleeve. He gives it a blank look for a moment before picking it up and putting it into his own chip bag.]

Thanks.

[He manages it with a straight face, resuming slowly eating one of the chips from his bag, but now he has another barbecue for later and he gets to be sassy about it. It really is a win.]

[She smiles at him.]

Asshole.

[Then she holds her hand out expectantly.]

[He gives a faint but genuine laugh at that.]

Do you want yours back, or one of the nacho ones?

You stole mine, so now we have to trade.

[The fact that she threw it at him has nothing to do with it, obviously.]

You could've just asked.

[Also, hey, yeah, there's the whole throwing thing. But he's obviously not bothered, holding out the bag for her to take what she wants.]

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