the woman with no name (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bottecellie) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2012-04-23 11:40 am
bottecellie) wrote in bakerstreet2012-04-23 11:40 am
Entry tags:
I don't remember the last time I posted this
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.
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!
4 IF IT'S OKAY why the hell not i figure
He shoved the latest gift of sweets wrappers from his mother into a jacket pocket that had grown sticky during the past spring and summer. He put them all in the same pocket and sometimes forgot to take them out before he started the next day. It smelled like peppermint and chocolate, but he'd never wash it. Not this year, at least. It was something his parents gave him, unknowingly, to take home with him. It was something he could feel or smell and think of his mum and dad and how he was sure he'd made them proud.
But there was something different this time around. Something very different.
He spotted a head of white blond hair nearby, white blond and rather long. A moment was all he took to look around and see where the Mediwizards were at before he approached, leaning forward slightly in confusion. It couldn't be, could it? He would have heard. Even if he was still in training, news traveled fast. He would have heard by now, certainly!]
M...Mister Malfoy?
[There was no mistaking him now. If it hadn't been the hair that gave him away, the piercing eyes couldn't be mistaken by anyone, especially not a Pureblood who'd attended school with one Draco Malfoy.]
lololol
He doesn't even dream when he sleeps. But he doesn't miss that. As he has no idea that there is anything to miss.
He pays no mind to the people that come and go. They mean nothing to him. They speak to him; they give him a name but their words hold little meaning.
And now there's another one. Looking at him expectantly. But there is something different about this one.
This one... smells... delicious.]
omg. best thing to think about him ever.
Neville knows what ward he's in. He's known it since he can remember. He's familiar with it, the furniture and settings and everything in its particular order. What's in the upper drawers and lower drawers of those bedside stands, what all they can have that the family doesn't bring to them.
He casts in his gaze in the direction of a rolling stool and brings it over to him, sitting atop it like it's a regular chair to him. It's not; it's puffed up like a heated marshmallow, round, and stiff. But it doesn't matter to him by the look he gives.]
You hungry?
[He knows everything. He knows the crappy food, he knows the strange-tasting water, the water that is a bit too much water. The taste of it all, so bland and uninviting, enough to keep a body sustained but not really excite it, invigorate it with sweet flavors and mouthwatering spices.
And this is why Neville brings in sweets to his parents. And this is why, instead of eating the last milky chocolate bar he intended as a treat for himself since his mother denied anymore and told him that as, a young man, he needed it to "sleep strongly and with grace" (that was a compliment, he spoke her language very well sometimes), he pulls it out of his pocket. It's a bit crumpled, just what one would expect of a candy bar kept in a jacket pocket, but nothing more. Chocolate's chocolate, after all, and he puts it on the table where patient meals are served.]
Mum didn't want it, and the food here's...not that great, I know. You might like it.
no subject
It's not as though it's a feast of epicurean delight, dazzling the taste-buds and bewitching the senses (although as far as he's concerned, in his present state of mind, its odor might fall into the realm of delectable).
Nor is it in any way metaphorically akin to a blazing phial of light, slashing like a sword through the inky impenetrable darkness of his mind, or the shrill call of the Slaty-breasted Wood-rail piercing the dense miasma of his thoughts.
It's a half-melted candy bar stickily festooned with pocket lint.
Certainly not a gourmet delight.
But he is touched... touched beyond words that this unknown, odd-looking boy should offer him such a thing and his vacant eyes brim with tears of gratitude.]
Thank you.
no subject
As much as Neville knows, it's only knowledge; it's not experience. He knows that they get crappy food, so he brings in sweet things when he comes because they don't get them. But he does not know how it is to be in that place all day every day without the slightly delicious thing to look forward to. It's all so dreary.
He reaches into the lower drawer and pulls out a small box of tissues, putting them just within reach on the bedside stand.
He wouldn't be able to tell anyone this.]
You're very welcome. I'll see about bringing some more for you, too, when I come back tomorrow for Mum and Dad.
I'm Neville Longbottom, by the way.
no subject
Neville... Longbottom. [He speaks slowly, as if pondering each unfamiliar syllable, but as his mouth is full of chocolate, it's entirely possible he's simply having a hard time making conversation.]
no subject
I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy, if I knew you were here, I would have thought to bring some more...that may be the only one I...ah, no. No! Here!
[And, revealed, was a small, circular peppermint, cracked down the middle, bits of red and white sticking against the paper. The last treat he can offer, he places it where the chocolate had been. He's not going to tell him to wait til after dinner, because then it would be even better, though that's what Grandma told his parents most of the time.
Lucius Malfoy was nothing along those lines to Neville, and he knew it was neither his place nor his duty to offer up the suggestion.]
Yeah, that's me. My mum and dad are in the permanent ward near here. This is, er...spell damage. If you're here, it's a good chance you'll be okay. I'm sure I just managed to catch you when your family was out is all.
no subject
Peppermint and chocolate: two great tastes that go great together.]
Family?
[Perhaps he means that ferrety young man who occasionally comes and sits on the stool looking tragically constipated or that woman with the pinched sour expression who does nothing but shriek at all the poor hospital people.
He suppresses a shudder. No, Neville. You are his family now.]
no subject
So, curiously, cautiously, he approaches.]
Yes...I went to school with your son, Draco. He's, er...got the same color hair you do, and so's your wife. I don't know them very well, though, so I can't say how they act or anything. [Except that Draco is fond of looking woebegone and Narcissa seems to need to carry air fresheners like necklaces.] I'm not...a Healer or a Mediwizard, obviously, [He lifts up the side of his jacket where he's made his own little name tag declaring him a visitor and his name written, a bit crudely and oddly; "Neville" was written by his mother and "Longbottom" was written by his father.] so I don't get to know what happened, so I'm just going to ask if you want to, you know, I guess, talk about it.