bakerstreet | remember seek (forgetting find)

remember seek (forgetting find)

THE AMNESIA MEME

Ah, amnesia. The old standby for soap operas, it usually involves a good knock on the head and a complete loss of memory. Ever wanted to do that to your character? Well, now's your chance. (VIA

jading

1. Comment with your characters!
2. Others comment. Optionally, go to RNG and roll the scenario. (As to who gets knocked on the head, well, that's up to you!)
3. ???
4. PROFIT.

1. HEAD-ON COLLISION - ...whoops. It was an honest mistake, really! You didn't see that car/tree/post/person/whatever coming, but now you're stumbling out of the wreckage sans memory. Better ask for help.

2. WAIT, WHO ARE YOU? - Okay, so a while ago, you got into...something that caused you to lose your memory. Fortunately, you managed to get by and create a new identity for yourself. Unfortunately, someone new has just entered your life. Or should I say, someone who's a little too familiar...

3. RINSE AND REPEAT - Sigh. Really, this is just so inconvenient. You wake up everyday with no memory of who you are, and have to figure it out over the course of the day, only to fall asleep and have to do it all over again the next day. Good thing someone's there to help you out, right? And what's with all those post-its and notes?

4. THIS ROOM'S TOO WHITE - Welcome to the hospital. You've got an "Unknown" tag on your wrist, a healthy diet of bland hospital food, a steady trickle of doctors coming in to check up on you, and a TV, and nothing else. Looks like someone's coming to help you today, though! Here's to hoping they knew you before you lost your memory.

5. I'M SUPPOSED TO DO WHAT?! - Oh, crap. There's something only you can do right now--that is, the you who didn't lose your memory, anyway. Better figure out a way out of this mess and how to control your strange abilities before it's too late.

6. FIGHTING FOR THE WRONG SIDE - Uh, oh. Looks like your enemies decided to take advantage of your confused state and convinced you that you're on their side. Here's to hoping your allies can get you back to yourself before you cause some serious damage.

7. JUST TOO TRAUMATIC - You just saw something that's so traumatic you lost your memory because of it. Unfortunately, right now, you have to remember it, or else something really bad happens. Hope you don't regret remembering this!

8. I DON'T WANT THIS - You've been living a peaceful, ordinary life, for a while. And you'd rather it stay that way, because you're not sure if you'd want to remember what went before. Unfortunately, something's coming, and the key to stopping it lies in your memories.

9. NO SUCH THING - Maybe you were a wizard, or a werewolf, or an angel, or a demon, or something else entirely before, or maybe you just knew about the masquerade. Sadly, you've been knocked on the head and now believe yourself to be a perfectly ordinary person. Magic? That doesn't exist, right? Anything can be explained with science, after all! Right?

10. I'M WHO?! - And who the hell are you? Basically, this is the wild card option! Combine one of the above or make up a new one or whatever you want! Go wild!

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[It had been painful, to learn of Amitiel's Fall, at first.

He had heard "through the grapevine", his senses disconnected from the Grace of his brothers. Gabriel hadn't wanted anything to do with Heaven, for a long while. That had worked out well, since angels had been forbidden to set foot on Earth. But when he had heard of an angel's Fall, he had deliberated for a time about whether or not he should discover who it was. It wouldn't have been an older sibling. He would have felt that, no matter what.

Gabriel had flown to the town in question after nine months. He had peered through the window of the maternity ward at the young, wrinkly, pink face. Shock had radiated through him as he had felt the Grace of Amitiel, the angel who had once been so set on rules. His companion for so many messages. He would know her Grace anywhere, even faintly in the skin of a newborn who would never remember looking at his face. For a time, he'd stood there. Not knowing what to do, until the thought of her Grace had occurred to him. Heaven would attempt to collect it. Perhaps they already had. Feeling a surge of panic, he'd left the newborn.

Luckily, no angel had found an excuse to come to Earth for it before. He had found her Grace within a revitalized stream, one that farmers and hikers had thought to be long-dead, and captured it in a vial, putting it in his pocket. He would keep it. If his friend could no longer take Heaven, he would respect her decision. But he would keep her Grace safe as best he could.

Finally, on a day he could no longer keep away, he decided to come back. A great deal of time had passed. Gabriel hoped vaguely that she hadn't moved out of her town, searching through it in the blink of an eye. He wasn't sure what would happen in his presence, whether she would sense his presence or not. Angels were back on the Earth, after all. But he intended to sit a short distance away and catch a glimpse of her.

A glimpse. That was all he needed, he told himself.]

[It's a crisp autumn day. People are milling about in a good mood, enjoying pumpkin spice lattes. The wind lazily dances with bright leaves. Knit scarves are all the rage, and gloves without fingers. It's the weather for warm cookies, when the sun is just warm enough that it's nice to be outside, but allows you to wrap yourself in warm, comfortable clothes and layers.

The slight bite in the air has colored the young woman's cheeks slightly. She's been to college, she's found work, and sometimes, she kind of hates that she did. Journalism is a dying career path, and she had to find out the hard way that the business of truth is just that - a business. No matter how much dirt there is on a politician, he can wave his credit card and it'll get buried. If his opposition does the waving, the dirt will be slapped on the front page. No one is interested in getting to the truth no matter what. It's all about how well the story sells. They'll paint people as monsters before anyone knows whether or not they're guilty. The press passes verdicts, twists the message, slanders, dictates opinions.

It's sickening.

Which is why right now, Amelia Warden reports on the death of the mayor's cat, since after butting heads with her boss one time too many, this is apparently the most important bit of news she can be trusted with.

It's also why she's waiting in a too long line to get too expensive coffee, and quite possibly something disgustingly sugary to curb her frustration. Children starving in Africa, who's she to complain, yadda yadda. Absentmindedly flipping through her - very old school - note pad, she pushes some hair behind her ear.

If one were to stand behind her, the very professional notes detail the cat's age and weight, which leave nothing but the logical conclusion that it's not surprising it passed away - it's surprising it took that long. When her pen dies, she frowns and turns to the man behind her.]

Sorry - You wouldn't happen to have a pen?

[It's surprising. It takes a lot to surprise Gabriel, but she's managed it. But of course she has, because that had practically been Amitiel's specialty.

No. Not Amitiel. Amelia, as he'd seen on a tag wrapped to her foot in the hospital ward.

Gabriel blinks, then offers a tentative grin and shoves his hands in the pockets of his green jacket. His hands close around a pen. Not because one had been there, but because he's brought a simple black pen into existence. It's smooth and shiny, and high-quality, but simple nonetheless. Not a lot of bells and whistles. Much like a horse he'd once stolen for Amitiel in a game of Truth Or Dare.]

You're in luck.

[He offers it to her. The movement is strangely hesitant.]

Awesome.

[Amelia reaches out, but then she... hesitates. It's a weird gut feeling that she hasn't had often in her life, but occasionally is overcome by. More often lately, whenever her newly discovered migraines hit. It's just this strange... almost a deja-vu, but not really, not quite. Like trying to think of a word and feeling it on the tip of your tongue. Like that weird moment when you wake up in your bed, but you don't know who and where you are, and it just feels wrong.

Nonsense.

Slender fingers close around the sleek pen. Amelia could tell the stranger he's a life-saver, but that would be a lie. She adds 'Express sympathy in article. Do not point out cat was fattened up. Don't mention that no one but the owners care at all' and a few exclamation marks to her notes, then closes the pad and drops it back inside her bag. The line's moved a little.

Amitiel likes cats. She just doesn't like reporting on the natural, expected death of one for the newspaper's gossip section.

With a nod, she hands the pen back. It's nice quality, probably horribly expensive. At least not flashy and pretentious, though, so he's likely wealthy, but on the level of wealth that transcended beyond having to show it off.]

Thanks, Mr....

[She's seen him before, but she can't place him. She knows him, but she has no idea who he is. For a moment, there's white noise in her ear, and she rubs at it a little until it goes away. Maybe Amelia needs a vacation. Or more sleep.]

[His smile is devoid of the usual attitude he carries. It's painfully honest, and she can't even fully appreciate that at the moment. Gabriel hadn't intended to talk to her. He doesn't want to mess up the life she seems to have going, even if she does seem to have a near-constant pinch to her expression. But that just seems to be a thing that's quintessentially her.]

Farceur. And uh, no problemo.

[He almost adds something else. He sort of wants to, now that they're here and they're kind of talking to each other. Gabriel isn't often struck speechless, but this seems to have done it.]

[The moment's gone, the name doesn't ring a bell. Amelia nods, slowly. She still can't shake the feeling that something weird is up with this guy, but then again... maybe her boss is right and she needs some time off, a little more sleep. She's starting to see conspiracies everywhere just because she wasn't allowed to report on those she actually helped dig up.]

Amelia Warden. Pleasure.

[With a slight smile and nod, she turns back around, the small exchange over.

No, the name isn't familiar. Well, aside from the fact that it'd make for a nice, but super obvious name for a villain in a children's comic book or something. The human brain sometimes tricks itself into thinking it recognizes something, which causes deja-vu even with something that the human in question encounters for the first time.

It's nothing but that.]

[Gabriel isn't sure whether he's disappointed or relieved. Maybe both. He almost thinks about asking what she's working on, even if he already knows, because that seems like a chit-chat followup that someone might do. But then Amelia turns around, and the opportunity passes. He shoves his hands back in his pockets and debates leaving. Maybe he shouldn't have done this, helping her with a small task aside.

But he's come all this way. He may as well get himself a giant coffee with too many kinds of sugar. Stay here just a little longer. The knowledge that Amitiel is doing all right, unharassed by Heaven and demons alike, is a comforting balm in a world that Gabriel finds recently uncertain.]

[Amelia's thoughts drift for a while as she stands in line, but it doesn't take long for the white noise to intensify. It's as if there's something close by that demands her attention, but she can't figure out the signal's source to... what, shut it off? Pressure behind her eyes starts building up.

Sometimes, when these strange episodes hit, she feels as if someone is whispering into her ear.

Except there's no one doing that - she checked, oh boy did she ever check - and it's probably just some... weird migraine, no matter how wrong the world feels when she suddenly starts having this sensation of her body being too small to fit her.

Holding her head a little, she leaves the coffee shop's line, leaves the coffee shop entirely, and just finds an empty little table outside, sinks into the chair and grits her teeth.

That guy behind her probably just had a weird cologne that triggered her migraine.

Except if there's a gut feeling deep down inside that tells you the truth every damn time, trying to lie to yourself about something you don't know the right answer to is goddamn hard.]

[He watches her.

He tries not to make it very obvious, even though she's probably too involved with her problem to notice. But now is a poor time to start underestimating her, even as a human. Gabriel stays in line, keeping Amelia in his sights until he reaches the front of the line. He order his abomination — the guy even asks if he'd just like sugar in a cup — and a straight black coffee, or the closest thing that this place has. He's not sure how she'd take her coffee, but it seems like her thing. Straight, no-nonsense.

You should probably just go, he thinks. But when has he ever listened to the clear little voice?

Gabriel makes his way outside and places the coffee on the table. His own smells like a sundae in a cup. He offers her a smile, halfway sure he knows exactly what's bothering her. Going away could help. Or someone else, someone less concerned for her welfare, could notice her condition. Someone with black eyes.]

Hey, I, uh, hope this is okay. You look like you need it.

[There's suspicion in her eyes when Amelia looks up at him. The guy better not be turning into a real creep. If he's only hitting on her, that'll be awkward at best. Come on, who's nice enough in the 21st century to bring someone coffee just because? No one, that's who. Amelia knows. She's a reporter, or the equivalent that gets slapped with the title these days.

Still, her fingers curl around the styrofoam cup, and her eyes are only slightly narrowed.]

Thanks... just a headache. I appreciate the coffee. What do I owe you?

[Maybe this will be less awkward if she offers to pay. Maybe he'll spare her the embarassment of having to explain that she has a boyfriend and really no time for coffee infidelity.]

[Gabriel holds up his hands slightly. The more he talks to her, the more he's struck with deja vu. She's a human, and she doesn't recognize him, but everything else feels so familiar. Like the way she's staring at him right now, wishing him to go away at his earliest opportunity. He smiles slightly. Some things just don't change.]

Oh, nothing. I'll consider it my good act for the day. Just, you know, pass it on or whatever.

[He shrugs flippantly.]

Hope you feel better.

[Walk away walk away walk away.

It's harder to ignore the voice now. He's pretty sure that his presence is the cause for this thing. That or she had some bad luck with what human body she'd been saddled with.]

[Talk about hard to ignore, because Amelia is finding that something in her can't quite shake an odd feeling when she looks at him. And so she goes against her initial instincts. It's probably just that she'd rather not be alone while feeling really iffy in general.

Right.]

Wait. This... is gonna sound like the weirdest come-on ever, but I'll insist that it's nothing of the sort - but do I know you, maybe? Are you like some B movie actor or something? I feel like I've seen you in something...

[She's rambling a bit and shuts herself up with a frown.

Yeah, she's not sounding like creep herself right now, not at all. With her luck, he's some sort of porn star, and this is gonna get really uncomfortable in a hot second. Oh god, it would certainly explain the name...]

[...crud.

Gabriel doesn't actually want to jeopardize this for Amitiel. She deserves some time in peace before the apocalypse breaks out and his brothers fight each other for reasons that their younger brother can't fathom. If he gives her too much information, he isn't sure what might leak through to the angel hiding dormant underneath.

He offers her a mildly shaky smile. Yeah, I know it's nothing of the sort; believe me. If he were more collected, he might be offended that her mind had jumped to B movies first.]

'Fraid not. I try to keep a low profile. I, uh. Just have that kind of face, I guess.

[Gabriel sticks to the latter part. Not the former about whether or not she knows him. That's just a little too much lying, to the former angel of truth.]

[She opens her mouth, as if to say more. Amelia Warden is a woman of instinct, and something tells her she should keep digging here. There's something here.

But then, that just might be her general level of frustration coupled with those weird headaches she gets as of late...

So rather than follow her gut, as she usually would, she just drags up a smile and raises her coffee.]

Thank you then, kind stranger.

[And that, for the time being, is the last she sees of him.

Life continues, with its strange twists and turns. Amelia kind of sort of knows something's up with her boyfriend, but in a twisted attempt at self-preseveration, she doesn't dig there, either, turns a blind eye to blatant truths and feels rotten about it.

The headaches probably come from there, too.

The thing is, Amelia would say she's a modern, strong woman... well, not really the best with technology, but still modern enough. She's not afraid to confront harsh truths and provoke reactions, so it's not much of a surprise that she's not afraid to walk the streets alone at night.

Totally to clear her head, and not because she's avoiding the guy sharing her apartment whom she used to know, yes?

When two guys start tailing her, she notices, and the headache buries deeper. She turns on them, mace in her hand, because she's not dumb, okay?

Except the little flask clatters to the ground unused, because their eyes are pitch black, and that's not just a trick of the light...]

[He's relieved when she dismisses him. It's hard to tear himself away from something that familiar, simply because Gabriel doesn't often find things that are. He's been on Earth for a long time, but angels are still much more familiar than anything on his Father's last masterpiece. Or are they? He's been away so long, maybe they're becoming more foreign. Perhaps talking to Amitiel again had just been an attack of nostalgia.

Still, that headache worries him. So instead of simply leaving Amitiel to what life she'd have before the Apocalypse, he stays in the area. He's not surprised to learn that she's a journalist, and even less surprised that her knack for the truth has ruffled some feathers. (Pun fully intended, and he feels proud of it as it comes to mind.) He even snoops on where she lives — he tells himself it's just so that he can come find her in the coming End of Days, as it were — and encounters that very human of things, the boyfriend.

And okay, he's not that bad-looking, props to her, but he's also making out with another girl when Gabriel stumbles invisibly across him. That doesn't earn him any points whatsoever. In fact, he regularly makes a show out of people like this. But he doesn't act, and simply logs that information away for another time. When, he's not sure. He knows he should leave.

But he doesn't.

Gabriel watches "Amelia" leave the apartment, and debates following for a very long moment. But it's just a show for himself, because he follows her with a ruffle of wings that her boyfriend — engrossed in Call of Duty — doesn't hear. Good thing, too, because he senses the demons as he spreads his wings, and his Archangel Blade is in his hand in short order.

There aren't too many options. One can't smite demons on the downlow. And he can't leave her to them, as they're advancing quickly. Father only knows what they'd do to an angel without her Grace. Science experiments that would make scientists shudder, probably. So Gabriel lands behind them, his three sets of wings visible in the shadows, a cold smile on his face.]

Evening, fellas.

[They turn, exasperated. One of them even has a "Listen, buddy," on the tip of his tongue. It never becomes anything else, because Gabriel puts his blade between the first demon's ribs and the second demon turns the color of spoiled milk as he recognizes what Gabriel must be.]

[Amelia doesn't have a lot of time to process everything that's happening. She sees strangers with black eyes and the coffee-stranger with... wings?

What is happening to her?

For a moment she tries to convince herself she stumbled onto a movie set, but then she's not that blind to the truth, could never be even if she desperately wants to be.

Whatever is happening here, it's so above her pay grade, and still she can only think... if only she had her camera on her to record this. Because damn, this'd be the story that would make Amelia Warden famous, which she doesn't care about, but it'd be her story alone, and it'd be the truth, which she cares about a lot.

Only there's no camera, and something ruptures in her head.

Amelia doesn't witness what happens to the second demon (demons are real), but she clings to her name, her identity for painful moments, pressed against some innocent brick wall to keep her upright even as her world is tipped on its head and shaken thoroughly.

There's no bright white light, no heavenly choir, and it's just as well, because Amitiel knows that would have pissed her off more than anything right now. The second demon barely has time to hit the floor, dead, before she has her eyes on Gabriel again.

Because that's who he is.

Gabriel.

...

Just one of those faces, huh? She's gonna tear him a new one... just as soon as she doesn't feel like puking anymore.]

[Two demons are like the archangel equivalent of a spider on the wall, and Gabriel squashes them without much thought on the matter. They don't live long enough to give any messages along the lines of surprise! there's an archangel on Earth to their superiors, and they haven't touched Amitiel. Those are the important parts.

He snaps his fingers, and the unfortunates who donated their bodies are now two potted plants. But that's all the thought they get, too, because he notices that look on Amitiel's face. He's seen it before, on humans, and moves forward to hold out an arm for support.]

Hey, hey, woah. Take it easy.

[Easy?

Amitiel swats at his arm, lips pressed together tightly and a familiar line between her eyes. If nothing about her face moves, that line is usually a sign of 'Gabriel, you're in a bit of trouble'.

Take is easy, my ass.]

Just one of those faces! That's what you said!

[Amitiel draws herself up to her full height, and bruises her hand a bit, shoving at him. Never mind that she's just human, frail, small, and he's still...

He's...]

So all this time, you've just been hiding out in coffee shops? Is this just one of your games, Gabriel?

[It would be more efficient, of course, if Amitiel didn't look confused about whether she should be relieved or angry.]

[... oh.

Oh.

A stupid look of relief crosses his face before confusion, and then exasperation, take its place.]

What? No!

[He tells himself that the demons would have broken past her blissful ignorance of her past identity. Or she would have died alone and afraid. Both are horrific, even if the cost of saving her was also the popping of her bubble.]

I just. [Gabriel makes a grumpy noise.] I came to check up on you, all right? That's it. I don't go to coffee shops. Not unless I'm looking for a hipster. Uh, no offense to current company.

Are you okay?

[He has no idea what she's feeling, what coming back yourself is like after being born as a human. And he tells himself that if she asks him to leave, he will. Maybe after exterminating every demon in town, but he will.]

[She passes a hand over her face, steps back, turns away. Walks three steps, then turns around again and looks at Gabriel. Maybe she's in shock. Maybe she's freaking out.

Amitiel doesn't know. Or Amelia? How does she even begin to reconcile this?

And then her hands sink, slowly, because she knows the protocol.

Checking up on her?

Right...

Right.

Amelia - Amitiel - doesn't allow her shoulders to slump. It's difficult, arranging two separate identities in your head, when you realize they're not all that separate at all.]

Are you here to kill me, or to take me back, then?

[Because why would he check up on her for any other reason? Nothing makes sense - he left Heaven so long before she did, breaking under the strain of dirty truths and horribly lies. Where does he stand, now? What did she miss?

At any rate, she can't fathom this would be a social call. It's Gabriel. Former companion or not, what would he want with her, now that she's human?]

[For a long moment, he looks genuinely baffled. He almost laughs. But Gabriel stops himself, shaking his head and crossing his arms.]

Take you back? What, so they can try to assimilate me back into the fold? Lock me up? Take away my memories?

[Gabriel isn't sure if any of that would actually happen. He's still an archangel. But his two older brothers are up there, in Heaven, and he doesn't think either of them are too fond of him. He hadn't left much of an impression. They have their orders, and they'd... certainly held to them. If only to the letter.]

I was just...

[I missed you.]

Making sure the demons hadn't gotten to you, yet. They're everywhere, right now.

[... oh.

Oh.

That makes a surprising amount of sense in a world that stopped making sense. Amitiel nods, slowly, the crease not quite disappearing from between her eyes, but softening.

Then she punches Gabriel on the arm again, just because she can, even if she can only just stop herself from wincing. He's like a brick wall. Worse, because he's so familiar, and even worse because it's... it's good to see him.

That's why the next move she makes has her grabbing the sleeve of his jacket.

As if that would stop him.]

Then you'll come back with me. To my place. You'll get me up to speed and we'll figure out what to do now. No flying off and leaving me alone. [Again.] I forbid it.

[It's jarring. Not the act of her hitting him, because he almost can't even feel it (and how different from the old days is that). But how quickly she shifts from cold to warm, and yet, like her presence, it's familiar. Soothing.

The archangel isn't alone.

He finds himself utterly relieved, having half expected her to yell and tell him to go away and never come back.]

Okay.

[Gabriel nods and offers her a bright smile.]

I'm not going anywhere. Lead the way, milady.

[He's still trying to figure out how to tell her that he knows where she lives. He knows how that sounds. Maybe he won't, after all]

[Oh, she was tempted, for a dizzying, insane moment. Tempted to shove him and leave it at that, return to her quiet, human life, the one without pain, duty, and failure on her part.

But that's not going to happen, not now, not ever again.

Amitiel knows who she is again, isn't sure how she could ever forget something so big to begin with. Human or not, that... seem unfathomable to her. Oh, how far she's fallen, indeed.

And gabriel... checked up on her. Almost like a friend. Almost like he cares. She looks back over her shoulder, frowns at him - in thought, not in displeasure, although that might change should he read her mind without permission.

How much does he know?

The life she's known so far, as a human, will come to a grinding halt now. Amitiel is no fool. Mortal or not, with her memories reawakening, she's going to be in danger. If Heaven gets on her trail, like those demons did...

In fact, if more demons do... she must be on the run from both sides, now. At least not from Gabriel though. She feels a pang of fondness and smothers it for now.]

You're being surprisingly docile.

[She took a wrong turn. Whether on purpose or because she's slightly frazzled is anyone's guess.]

[Gabriel doesn't make the potential mistake of correcting her course. His blade is within reach again, just out of sight in his sleeve, in case they should meet any more demons. It won't take too long for them to notice that two of their thugs have disappeared.

For the time being, he walks casually at her side.]

Is there some other way you'd prefer me to be?

[He grins at her, but really, they don't make instruction manuals for this kind of thing. Amitiel had kind of written the book on it, in recent times, and here the demons were, spoiling it.]

I could be louder.

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