the_campus | Effect Room: Amnesia

Why did I have to remember that...? [He mutters, head hanging low as he gazes down at the ground. It was crushing now that the only memories he had were of an unsatisfying and oppressed existence. The dull fury that didn't quite have all its fuel just yet was starting to spark back to life, but at the same time he felt so small and alone.

In this place...this scary, unfamiliar place, and the unfamiliarity of his own thoughts and mind. It was enough to drive anybody to collapse. Worst of all, this desperation somehow felt familiar. Was he always this way? It was a haunting thought.]

It's not fair... I want to remember something else! [Looking up again, he appears desperate.] Please help me remember Ishizu and Rishid--and you! If you're telling the truth, Bakura, then help me remember something good.

[Irritation surges beneath the surface at that request. How the hell is he meant to do that? His talent is with temporarily hiding memories, not bringing them out. And he doesn't know anything about Ishizu, and very little about Rishid.

Seeing the desperation of his younger partner, his gaze softens a little. It's pitiful, in a way. Seeing him like this. It's tiresome. And that inhuman part of him takes the chance to casually bring the fact that he could just take the Rod and walk away. It would hurt, but he could easily return to that power-hungry state. Why waste energy trying to repair his fractured mind?

But those thoughts are easily dismissed.]

I only saw Rishid once or twice. And I didn't see Ishizu at all, personally. But I made you figures of them, recently. It might bring the memory of them back.

Come on back to the dorm. I'll make you some tea and koshary, and we can see if anything there triggers your memory a little.

...Okay. [It's all he can do right now. Malik has no idea where to start, and so against some niggling paranoia he'll follow this man that claims to be his "partner". He has to wonder about those figures. Even if he can't remember them being made, it proves something, right?

Malik can't imagine himself being creative like that, can he? He has to look down at his hands at this thought and wonder as they walk, quietly speaking up as they near the dorm.]

Bakura...what kind of person am I?

...

What kind of question is that?

[Heading down the hall, he tucks his hands into his pockets as he walks. Tch... well, he can try to answer it anyway.]

A personality can't be boiled down to just a few words. But if I had to pick just a few to describe you...

You're stubborn, bossy, rude, intelligent and kinda naive. You don't tend to think much about what others want or need unless they're close to you... and sometimes not even then. And you don't get attached easily.

You don't have a lot of hobbies, either. Going to the gym and riding your bike sums up most of it.

...Kaha. [He laughs a little sadly as he hears that.] Is that all? I don't know what I expected to hear. Something better, maybe? Is that really the sort of person I am...?

[It sounds like the kind of person he'd hate. Actually, hearing that...draws up a memory. It's fuzzy at first, but the more he concentrates on it the clearer it becomes. That fragment is less of a scene and more of a summary. The idea and image of a man.

The words come out without him meaning for them to.] ...It sounds like my father.

...

[Malik doesn't talk about his father much, but he knows Malik isn't fond of him. Especially after what he heard about the scars on the boy's back. His lip curls in irritation at the thought.]

You're better than him. [Pausing in his footsteps, he looks back at Malik. It wasn't right for him to be so direct. He should have cushioned the blow a little of what type of person Malik was. Of all the times for him to be honest... Malik really did bring out the worst in him.]

You're not a bad person, Malik. Even if it sounds like it. Those are just excerpts of who you are... and you're young. Most young people have traits like those. You'll grow out of them.

The only reason you're so isolated is because you focus too hard on things and shut out everything else. You could do with learning to relax, sometimes.

But you love your family and you'll always do what's best for them, even if it's painful. And once you've set your mind on something, you'll not stop, no matter what. It's kind of admirable, in a way.

Edited 2013-12-15 11:55 (UTC)

[The words seem to calm Malik, at least enough to pull him back from the verge of depression, but he's far from relaxed. He was anxious, if anything.

He can only nod at Bakura, trying to accept his words.]

...I'll just have to keep trying to remember the truth behind those words.

[From what little he remembers, and what he's being told, Malik has a feeling this uneasiness isn't something that will ever go away. Would he be a better person if he didn't remember who he was? Maybe. But if there's anything he hasn't forgotten how to do, it's as Bakura just told him, that once he's set his mind on something, he won't stop until he has it. He doesn't want to be anybody but himself, good and bad.]

But every time you tell me something, I feel like I gain back small part of myself. It doesn't mean anything yet...but they're like puzzle pieces. Maybe if I get enough, I'll start to see the picture of myself.

Edited 2013-12-15 13:33 (UTC)

...I'll tell you things, if it'll help.

[Bakura nods, resuming his leisurely walk back towards the apartment.]

Just try to keep calm. You getting upset is dangerous... for both of us.

[Putting together the puzzle of his memories... it was almost fitting, in a way. He sighs, not looking around. He hopes it'll work.]

There's another you within your mind. Another Malik... The last thing we need is for 'him' to wake up.

[Trying to keep calm he can do. Although he doesn't see how being a little upset is dangerous. At least, not until Bakura goes on.]

...What? [The word is quiet, but even in that one utterance his skepticism can be heard.]

It's fine if you don't believe it. I kept it from you for a long time before he resurfaced last time, for the same reason. It's difficult to believe.

This way. [He beckons him over to the door, shouldering it open carelessly. As always, the room is painfully neat, save for what little mess he left that morning.]

... [Malik will leave it at that for now, then. The thought will remain in his mind at the very least. More importantly, they've made it to "their" dorm. He pokes his head inside once the door is open, carefully observing the neat living space.

So far, nothing particular jogged his memory. The scenery didn't even seem familiar, but at least it was quaint.]

It's...uh, nice.

...

You could just say it sucks, you know.

[Not even bothering to take his shoes off, he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it carelessly aside.]

It's not the worst place I've lived in, but it'll do.

But it doesn't! It's just...different than I expected. But it's not bad.

[Malik takes his own shoes off, somehow old habits rising back to the surface now that he had little else. He makes to move towards the coffee table to pick up one of the books, but stops when he catches the scarring on Bakura's arm out of the corner of his eye.]

Hey--are you ok?

Huh?

[Glancing over, he follows Malik's gaze down to his arms. Tch... he'd never truly forget about those scars, but he was so used to having his arms covered that it had been a while since his attention was drawn to them. And it wasn't as if Malik usually made a point of mentioning them; rather the opposite, really.]

Ah... It's fine. They're healed about as far as they ever will.

[He presses his hand to his shoulder, unconsciously showing off the scars on the back of his hand.]

You took care of me after I got burnt. I think you felt guilty, even though it wasn't really your fault.

Both of us have our share of marks from our time here. When you get a moment, brace yourself and look at your stomach.

Guilty...? [He mumbles, eying the scar with a sort of morbid curiosity.]

Why would I feel guilty? What happened?

[And his stomach? Were they related? Malik glances down at his abdomen, but it was covered by a tanktop below his usual vest. It seems his anxious curiosity really would have to wait a moment.]

Was there a fire? [That would explain it, some sort of fire in the room. Then was he hiding burn marks of his own? Malik's stomach twisted at the thought; those marks were hardly pleasant to look at.]

In a manner of speaking. That other you... decided to burn me alive. I avoided death by sheer luck.

[And the odd exertions of his monsters. That loyalty of theirs surprises him.

If I hadn't been shielded enough to take the brunt of the flames, if I had been weakened, if I hadn't faced down God before and survived... I would have died just as easily as Rosenkreuz...

The thought irritates him.]

... [Malik is rendered speechless. He doesn't exactly feel guilt right now, or even bad...but he knows that inside him, somewhere, he should. When those memories come back, how painful is it going to be?

He can't resist any longer. Even if it's inappropriate he pulls at his tanktop to untuck it and take a look at what lies beneath. It's not burns like he expected, but two large and darkened scars. One was slashed across his side and permanently raised, and the other, much smaller but still ghastly lied just above his navel at an angle.

He lets out a soft noise, light a frightened whimper.]

[Bakura's gaze softens at that sound. How awkward must Malik be feeling right now? With no memory of the wounds marking his body, no memory of anything...]

Sit down. I'll make you some tea.

[Going over to put the kettle on, he speaks calmly, if expressionlessly. It's good, in a way. Though Malik's shock is bad, he's reacting like he should to marks like those. It's better than the carefree manner he spoke about them in the future.]

...Rosenkreuz gave you one of them. He's the same man who cut my face. We had to camp out in the forest for a while for fear of him. But we have a peace treaty with him and his group now, so we don't need to worry about that.

Are you hungry? We have some leftover koshary.

[A little shaky on his feet, Malik makes his way to the couch and sits, eyes still trauma stuck as he kept glancing down to his covered torso.

"Rosenkreuz" did this to him?]

Yeah...I'll eat. But...why?

Why did Rosenkreuz do this to us? Why did we need a peace treaty? Who's his group?!

[As he went on his questions grew more desperate and agitated, his voice losing its timidness as he demanded answers.]

[Fetching the carefully wrapped koshary from the fridge, he spoons it out into a bowl and brings it over for him, setting it on the table in front of him.

He should hold some of this back, he's sure... so he judges his words carefully. Without lying, he begins a brief summary of the events.]

The Rose Duelists are the group I speak of. They're led by a man named Henry, who bears a strong resemblance to our mutual enemy. You were overcome with hatred because of that resemblance and tried to kill him; Rosenkreuz retaliated by trying to kill you. I was able to stop him by holding something important to him hostage, but not before you were injured.

I nursed you back to health, and we managed to make something resembling peace between our groups, until your other self awoke. In the aftermath of that debacle, I arranged a proper peace treaty between our groups, and you agreed to abide by it once you'd recovered from the stab wound that led to it.

The other scar is from that wound.

This is...a lot to take in. [Malik tries his best, but without the memories to go with it, it's merely a vague and disjointed run down of events. All he knows is that he tried to kill someone. Was that really the sort of person he was? And yet Bakura said he wasn't a bad one.

The thought never entered his mind that maybe that "mutual enemy" had done something to deserve such hatred. At least, in his eyes.]

I... [He scrunches his eyes shut, thinking.] Remember being in the jungle, a little. And being in a lot of pain. Is that from that time? And when you said The Rose Duelists, I imagined the color pink.

Is that the color of their emblem? [Bakura did say they were a group.]

Your memories are probably from that time.

As to the pink... One of their number has pink hair. A girl named Harriet Vaughn. You two have been getting closer, from what I can tell, since she started training you.

[Hearing the kettle click, he disappears back to see to it. Tch... Malik would probably remember everything else before he remembered him. It was a painful thought. Did he really mean that little to him? Returning with a cup of hot tea, he sets it on the table beside the koshary.]

A girl...

[He hums, picking idly at his food as he thinks and sorts through the shattered fragments of his memories. It would be easy to dwell on those terrifying facts he'd just been told, but Malik would rather dig into what had been revealed because of them.

He would have plenty of time to worry later.]

I remember something else too... It's more a feeling than an image.

...hoh? What is it?

[Bakura stares at him curiously. Folding his arms over his chest, he leans back against the wall, outwardly at ease. Inwardly, he was a tempest of questions and concerns.

Malik was his anchor, that much was true. A link to a world he felt only tangentially attached to, and cared little for. And only now was he realizing just how unstable he felt without the boy being his usual self.]

...Even though I can't remember you, I feel comfortable around you. More than I should. I feel...

[He hesitates a moment. Bakura had called them "partners", right? Maybe that's why. It was strange to imagine himself in that position, though, especially with someone who fell so stray of what he felt were his innate tastes.] ...really comfortable around you.

[And when he looked at Bakura's face, he felt a sense of ease. He knew this man, somehow.]

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