[Ugh, Ardyn! Why must you be so much taller than him? Fynn feels hilariously short beside his brother and he's actually 5'10 at best. That's actually not short. Not at all.]
Good point. You at least have better tact than my colleagues. [Just barely, though.] But yeah, chamomile tea with some honey if you don't mind.
And no, I haven't had the displeasure of getting to know any long lost memories. I don't think I would want to either.
[The slow trek to the living room is a slow one. Fynn almost keels over a few times thanks to the cat that keeps weaving in between his legs. Honestly, these little furry hellions aren't cute. They're hideous little fur bastards who are trying their best to trip him up and kill him.
Eventually, Fynn does reach the sofa without killing himself. He ungracefully dumps himself into the couch and let's out a pained gasp. He may or may not just laid down upon a certain black cat.]
[It's your curse, Fynn, being related to a man who's tall enough to be a little intimidating to strangers. But it certainly helps the image of him being the big, older brother, taking care of his baby brother. Making him tea when he was sick (because yes, Fynn, you are indeed sick), and frowning at him when he attempts to squish one of his cats.
Erebus startles, of course, though he isn't the sort to get irritated. He had his claws planted squarely into Fynn's back, but that's only because the poor thing thought it was going to get flattened; when Fynn straightens, Erebus jumps off the couch and disappears down a hallway.]
Fynn, I'd appreciate it if you refrain from trying to smother my cats.
[But into the kitchen he goes! It's not far from being connected to the living room, so while Fynn will lose sight of Ardyn, his voice will still be clear as his speaks.]
Where memories are concerned, I don't think I'd want for you to. [The clinking noises of Ardyn rustling around in the kitchen goes here.] They're confusing and, as I've told others, will cause me to have an existential crisis sooner rather than later if it keeps up.
Relax! Your furbaby is fine. [He grumbles once he manages to get comfortable against the cushions. His head is swimming around in circles right about now. Fynn doesn't feel too good at all. If anything, he feels slightly worse now.] Besides, I kinda like the black one more than the others. More personality.
[Please ignore his ramblings, Ardyn. Fynn is completely delirious.]
First things first, are you really certain that these memories are real and not just implanted imagery? [Fynn asks once he gains a moment of clarity.] Let's put some perspective here before we go deep off the guided path. These memories that everyone are suddenly gaining overnight, what's the catalyst?
[Ardyn raises a brow where he stands, though Fynn can't see it. He's heating up some water now, waiting for it to boil. He already has the tea bag and its mug otherwise prepared and ready to go.]
I can't be certain of anything, if I'm to be completely honest with you. In the context of reality, they lack sense. For instance, those monsters I mentioned? I can tell you that nothing of the sort exists in our world, but-
[He pauses, a moment of consideration.] But I know that they were real. Are real? Difficult to say, and even harder to explain to someone fortunate enough to not experience these memories. They're too vivid. Too... lingering, in the mind.
[But he shrugs. It still wasn't proof of them being real, and Ardyn knows that. All he can do is explain how it felt, and a lawyer like himself knows that falls short of physical proof.]
If you're asking what the catalyst is, I suggest you start with the common factor. Retrospec.
[A scoff escapes Fynn as he closes his eyes briefly. They ache terribly.]
They're dancing circles around law enforcement like a damn ballerina. We can't get the top brass to give us the "Okay" to search their facilities even with all the weirdness happening. We literally have our hands tied behind our backs.
[A deep sigh escapes the younger Izunia as he opens his eyes again.]
But if they're the commonality between us all, we're looking at a wide spread epidemic that is bound to worsen. That's why I'm pretty damn worried. If you just know those memories are real, then how will these memories effect your everyday life?
[Eventually, Ardyn comes out, mug of tea in hand. He moves over to where Fynn is, sitting on the opposite end of the couch and offers it to him. (Frowning a little, too; Fynn just looks worse now than he did moments before.)]
I'm hoping that they won't. Perhaps that's what is most disconcerting about it all.
[A beat, and then.] Are you feeling warm or cold? [If Fynn has the chills, then he bets he has a fever too.]
I suppose we won't know until the truth shows itself.
[That's probably the most cryptic thing he's said all day.]
We'll wait and see, I guess. [He takes the mug from Ardyn with an inaudible "thank you" to follow. After a few sips, Fynn finally admits to his malady which a feat within itself.]
Colder than a witch's toe, to be honest. You got the damn windows open.
[And so, once again the conversation concerning memories is put carefully to the side in Ardyn's mind. He chooses to focus on Fynn's health for now, as that appears to be the most pressing matter.
A frown.]
No, I don't. You're feeling chilled because you're probably running a fever.
[And then, a bit sternly, like a parent talking to a child:] Stay home tomorrow. You'd be useless at work anyway.
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Good point. You at least have better tact than my colleagues. [Just barely, though.] But yeah, chamomile tea with some honey if you don't mind.
And no, I haven't had the displeasure of getting to know any long lost memories. I don't think I would want to either.
[The slow trek to the living room is a slow one. Fynn almost keels over a few times thanks to the cat that keeps weaving in between his legs. Honestly, these little furry hellions aren't cute. They're hideous little fur bastards who are trying their best to trip him up and kill him.
Eventually, Fynn does reach the sofa without killing himself. He ungracefully dumps himself into the couch and let's out a pained gasp. He may or may not just laid down upon a certain black cat.]
Erebus. I know those claws anywhere.
[He leans up so the cat and get free.]
no subject
Erebus startles, of course, though he isn't the sort to get irritated. He had his claws planted squarely into Fynn's back, but that's only because the poor thing thought it was going to get flattened; when Fynn straightens, Erebus jumps off the couch and disappears down a hallway.]
Fynn, I'd appreciate it if you refrain from trying to smother my cats.
[But into the kitchen he goes! It's not far from being connected to the living room, so while Fynn will lose sight of Ardyn, his voice will still be clear as his speaks.]
Where memories are concerned, I don't think I'd want for you to. [The clinking noises of Ardyn rustling around in the kitchen goes here.] They're confusing and, as I've told others, will cause me to have an existential crisis sooner rather than later if it keeps up.
[It's a joke, but only half of one.]
no subject
[Please ignore his ramblings, Ardyn. Fynn is completely delirious.]
First things first, are you really certain that these memories are real and not just implanted imagery? [Fynn asks once he gains a moment of clarity.] Let's put some perspective here before we go deep off the guided path. These memories that everyone are suddenly gaining overnight, what's the catalyst?
no subject
I can't be certain of anything, if I'm to be completely honest with you. In the context of reality, they lack sense. For instance, those monsters I mentioned? I can tell you that nothing of the sort exists in our world, but-
[He pauses, a moment of consideration.] But I know that they were real. Are real? Difficult to say, and even harder to explain to someone fortunate enough to not experience these memories. They're too vivid. Too... lingering, in the mind.
[But he shrugs. It still wasn't proof of them being real, and Ardyn knows that. All he can do is explain how it felt, and a lawyer like himself knows that falls short of physical proof.]
If you're asking what the catalyst is, I suggest you start with the common factor. Retrospec.
no subject
[A scoff escapes Fynn as he closes his eyes briefly. They ache terribly.]
They're dancing circles around law enforcement like a damn ballerina. We can't get the top brass to give us the "Okay" to search their facilities even with all the weirdness happening. We literally have our hands tied behind our backs.
[A deep sigh escapes the younger Izunia as he opens his eyes again.]
But if they're the commonality between us all, we're looking at a wide spread epidemic that is bound to worsen. That's why I'm pretty damn worried. If you just know those memories are real, then how will these memories effect your everyday life?
no subject
I'm hoping that they won't. Perhaps that's what is most disconcerting about it all.
[A beat, and then.] Are you feeling warm or cold? [If Fynn has the chills, then he bets he has a fever too.]
no subject
[That's probably the most cryptic thing he's said all day.]
We'll wait and see, I guess. [He takes the mug from Ardyn with an inaudible "thank you" to follow. After a few sips, Fynn finally admits to his malady which a feat within itself.]
Colder than a witch's toe, to be honest. You got the damn windows open.
[No, he doesn't.]
no subject
A frown.]
No, I don't. You're feeling chilled because you're probably running a fever.
[And then, a bit sternly, like a parent talking to a child:] Stay home tomorrow. You'd be useless at work anyway.