MEMORY TYPE: Small. If it was Darkwind contributing the memory it would be medium. MEMORY DETAILS: The memory of meeting Darkwind, one of her few living friends, and healing and comforting him at the entrance to the gryphon's lair. Describing the location - This is in the ruins of a city leveled two thousand years ago by a tremendous explosion not far away. The remains of buildings, some material similar to black stone that softened, went glassy, and even melted in places before re-solidifying, are scattered about in great blocks and menhirs and underfoot. Despite so much time, in this part of the ruins not much soil has accumulated over the paving, so only patches of grass and weeds grow among the bare black stone. Thick forest swallows other parts of the ruins. To the south is some kind of canyon whose opposite side is too distant to see. If you line things up, whatever flattened the city emanated from that direction.
The gryphon's lair is a single story house made from some of that stone, woven vegetation, and carefully trimmed and placed wood. It somewhat resembles a stone and thatch tent, but for all that there are only three rooms it's enormous. The doorframe is about ten feet up, the ceilings higher. One room is bare, the other two are minimum knee deep in sweet-smelling grasses that are also arranged into massive nests. There are some bookshelves but little other furniture.
The emotional content of the memory - Need in sword form experiences the world secondhand, with the senses and emotions of the living, so memories made when she's awake all include the experience of the people she's working with. On her part, she recognized the gryphons as some of the very few people she could instantly trust. Her party being welcomed to their home meant a reprieve from running and fighting. It was safe to tend a helpful, stricken stranger.
On Darkwind(the stranger)'s part, the gryphons were his parental substitutes helping, despite their own problems, when he was at his limit. He collapsed in the doorway as they looked on and a magic sword was shoved into his hands.
He heard a strange, gravelly voice in his mind. :She says if I don’t Heal you she’s going to drop me down the nearest well,: the sword told him, annoyance warring with amusement in the overtones of its—her—Mind-voice. :I think she must have been taking lessons in rudeness from her predecessor. And knowing Her Highness, she probably would.: He nearly dropped the thing in shock, and only long training—never, never, never drop a blade—kept his numb fingers clutched to the hilt. :Huh. Nothing too bad—overwork, under-rest. And—: He Felt the thing probing him and his memory, then suddenly pulling back. :Oh, youngling,: the sword said, dropping all cynicism. :You’ve had more heartbreak than anyone should ever face in a lifetime, and that much I can’t Heal. But I’ll do my best for you. Open your shields to me.: She sounded so much like one of his teachers, an old, old adept who'd ordered him about as if she had been his mother, that he obeyed without thinking twice. She took instant action In the next moment a gentle warmth stole over him, making him relax still further. He closed his eyes gratefully and let her in. Healers had worked on him before, but that had been for a major injury, not general exhaustion. First came the warmth and relaxation; then came new energy, new strength. It rose in him like a tide, rather than a flood; a rising tide of warmth and golden-green light that touched him within and without, folding him in great wings of brilliance, sheltering him as he had not been protected since he was a child. But the blade not only filled him with renewed physical energy, she also reopened his long-unused mage-channels, replenishing him with magical power as well. He was vaguely offended, but - he had said he was a mage. Any reasons for renouncing powers were gone and there was every reason he should take up magecraft again. "Thank you," he told the blade. :Thank the girl,: Need responded.
no subject
MEMORY DETAILS:
The memory of meeting Darkwind, one of her few living friends, and healing and comforting him at the entrance to the gryphon's lair.
Describing the location - This is in the ruins of a city leveled two thousand years ago by a tremendous explosion not far away. The remains of buildings, some material similar to black stone that softened, went glassy, and even melted in places before re-solidifying, are scattered about in great blocks and menhirs and underfoot. Despite so much time, in this part of the ruins not much soil has accumulated over the paving, so only patches of grass and weeds grow among the bare black stone. Thick forest swallows other parts of the ruins. To the south is some kind of canyon whose opposite side is too distant to see. If you line things up, whatever flattened the city emanated from that direction.
The gryphon's lair is a single story house made from some of that stone, woven vegetation, and carefully trimmed and placed wood. It somewhat resembles a stone and thatch tent, but for all that there are only three rooms it's enormous. The doorframe is about ten feet up, the ceilings higher. One room is bare, the other two are minimum knee deep in sweet-smelling grasses that are also arranged into massive nests. There are some bookshelves but little other furniture.
The emotional content of the memory - Need in sword form experiences the world secondhand, with the senses and emotions of the living, so memories made when she's awake all include the experience of the people she's working with. On her part, she recognized the gryphons as some of the very few people she could instantly trust. Her party being welcomed to their home meant a reprieve from running and fighting. It was safe to tend a helpful, stricken stranger.
On Darkwind(the stranger)'s part, the gryphons were his parental substitutes helping, despite their own problems, when he was at his limit. He collapsed in the doorway as they looked on and a magic sword was shoved into his hands.
MECHANISM: Second Crossing