Topic: Memories Like Snowflakes

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-03 13:25 EST
Friday, March 1

Jaycy stood near the door to the locker room in the Annex, green-gold gaze shifting from rings to bar in search for her husband. Finding him, her lips curled up in an affectionate smile and she sent a mental query through their special link. "Ready to ?? She began, stealing a phrase from his mind and ?book,? ?... blow this ? popsicle ? stand?"

His own slit amber gaze, a sign of agitation from either his last opponent or from anticipation of a young evening spent with his wife, slid across the space toward the woman. "Hell yes. At least when we spar, somebody gets to moan at the end."

She grinned, raising a brow in his direction, immediately tracing a path to the stairs that would lead her outside into the snowstorm. "And tonight, that someone will be you. She offered him a challenge in that claim, perhaps, that he wouldn't be able to accomplish the feat of eliciting the sound from her.

Psly chuckled inwardly, rising from his stool at the bar and leaving his tankard behind. "You want another head start?" Long legs led him in a path that trailed hers, threading swiftly through the Inn and oblivious to the sparse patronage who decided to brave the storm.

She snorted, pulling the front door open swiftly, aided by the push of air provided from the storm. She left it open behind her, a simple ?courtesy? for the man chasing her. "You really think I think I need one?" Down the stairs she broke into a run, hampered only minimally by inches of early snowfall.

He was already a mere three steps behind her, changing on the fly. It wasn't the time for conversation anymore. It was the chase. It was the game to see how far downtown they could get before someone got caught and they became tangled in snow and flesh, a fiery explosion unaffected by supernaturally frigid environs.

His change in form was the reason she ducked into a building almost immediately after exiting the Inn, allowing big evil dragonman to have to waste time getting smaller again to get inside too. It was especially helpful that the snowstorm was keeping everyone home so she could slip in undetected.

Shape to dragons was a fluid thing, of course, and he kept on nipping just at her heels. The need for her became a pounding, driving force. Primal. Visceral. His heart thudded in his chest with anticipation of the hunt and heat flushed through his loins.

Jaycy knew it was a matter of when, not if. It always was when she got caught, and her breath hitched as the need enveloped her, echoed in her, made her breath catch, and focused her. She snuck back out through the door, making the subtle shift of shields that made her less traceable - while she knew he'd know her scent too well she just needed to get into the air and the snowstorm would help her evade capture. Claws broke skin on her fingers and became shovels as she dove into the nearest bed of snow, using her makeshift tools to ease her path. Back to the Inn but not inside. Rather, up the side to the roof. In to the attic, down and out through a window, unfurling wings in the leap that kept her from touching ground again.

Following along, getting the minute traces of scent on the wind, he paused on the Inn's roof, scales lightening to a much paler bluish hue in the process. Catching sight of the movement in the distance, he leapt after her, knifing through the driving snow.

She seemed to fly lower, driven by the frozen sleet falling down. However, what really happened was she dropped suddenly into the snow bank and changed, shifting instead to a certain feline form. A white feline form, one that she could burrow under the surface of the snow bank to hide. She dug a length before building a den of sorts, at least long enough and far enough to distract him.

The blue faded further into a greyish white as he hit ground level, winding sinuously around drifts, looking for freshly disturbed snow. Her scent was near, and a leg pushed through snow a little too loosely distributed to be unmoved by an outside force. Psly stilled, using a moment to gather his strength for the imminent catch.

She smelled him even as he smelled her, undertones of dense metallic iron mingled with the crisp freshness of new snow. She burst through the snow suddenly, toward him, to pounce, distract, and flee. It was risky but it was also likely the least likely thing he'd expect.

Judging from the snarl, it was pure instinct that had him rearing up and spreading wings, before digging claws in to find traction for the chase. Her unorthodox maneuver caught him as off-guard as she intended and he was left scrambling behind her.

Snow exploded from the ground as she leapt up from earth to air, newly unfurled wings spraying ice in a million different sharded directions. Forward for a mere few breaths before she shifted direction. She gained altitude quickly, going straight up, to force him to either go past her trail and backtrack or to slow in the change of direction.

Psly opted for a different path, leaping upward from the ground where her trail ended and past to push off of a building and save some of that speed, wings pumping to gain ground.

She would have loved to continue going straight up after those first moments but the wind became more devious the higher she went. She flipped, turning straight down and curling wings tight to her body. Instant dive - it was obvious she was gaining speed but the question would become which direction was she going to go once she snapped those wings open?

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-03 13:27 EST
Minx. Her smaller size gave her the advantage in directional changes, and he knew that, deep down. Feeling the buffeting winds, he followed her in a tail-chase, watching for that telltale sign.

Toward the city was her path when those wings unfurled. At least briefly, for she used that superior maneuverability and the inherent speed associated with a dive like that to pull a U-turn and head away from the city. His larger size in the dive should make his turn much faster and that much harder to adjust. At least that was the plan.

Indeed, his turning radius swung out in a much shallower arc, though his coloration should help him blend in to the snow. Gliding silently, he took a moment to quiet his mind behind the shielding, keeping a watchful eye upon her through the turn.

She wasn't wasting time in looking back for him to see how he was blending nor in trying to touch his mind - that'd help him much more than her. However, the tricky flying - what she had been working so hard on - was suffering from diminishing returns. She could keep it up only so much longer. Her mind raced as she tried to think of her next move. Though ? perhaps it was time to give that up. She assumed Psly likely made a mistaken assumption ? that she was challenging him to catch her. No, not tonight. She was challenging him to make her moan. She knew she'd be caught, that was never an issue. A test of wills, however?.

So she dropped and crouched, wings curling around her frame, and waited. Let him come.

It wasn't so much an assumption, oh no. Continuing the wide circle and invisible through the snow, he came to a silent landing behind her, stalking forward slowly, blending in to the snow. Not even a snarl to give him away, not until he'd gotten close. Only then did the shields go down, and everything come rolling out in a surge of emotion, much like the storm overwhelming parts of the city. Raw and ragged.

One thing saved her from the onslaught. Her own shields between them held, barely, despite the barrage. It was fortuitous he hadn't forced her shields down as well; the maelstrom would have broken her. As it was, she stumbled forward with a sharp gasp, almost a leap forward with the shockwave that did get through. She whimpered, and groaned, but a moan did not escape her. Not yet, at least. But oh, it was close to passing through her lips. She shuddered mightily, face-first in the snow, and clawed hands dug deep beneath the frozen slush all the way down to rend true earth. ?Psly?? came the anguished mental cry, charged with that echoed need - a need they had rarely indulged themselves in after that first night of joining when they'd had no choice. Her own shields wisped away to nothing as she lost the battle, and he got as good as he gave. Only this storm was fire, lava, and flowed over her to him.

All hell broke loose then, in a manner of speaking. Step by slow step, he approached where she lay, circling his white-darkening-to-blue body around the hollow in the snow, wings mantled against the wind. Closer and closer that circuitous path drew him in, until his jaw slid down along her flank, scales nearly hissing against the fur.

The nearness rent a short scream from her throat - the slightest of bodily contact, when it came, would send her over the edge. As it was, the energy surrounding them, the lightning arcing through the mere inches of air between their bodies, sparked weakly but visibly in the muddled white of the snow made grey by the night. Silver and black scales oozed over the fur his breath tickled, turning her form hard under his teasing (even if unintentional) ministrations. ?Frederick?? His core in her center, the whole of him beyond his usename, the bound blood spoke through her, thick from her true lips and not mental echo of voice. So rarely did she use his true name, she only remembered the once. Their wedding day.

The animal without, sensing the energies charging the air, roared out a triumphant bellow, as if to proclaim to the teeth of the storm 'This is Mine!', daring anyone or anything to say otherwise. And within, a nugget of calm in the maelstrom of instinct and drive, passion and mind-shattering need, he was there. Reaching out a hand of dust and echoes, offering a shelter. ?Jaycynda.? He remembered. He remembered that first teasingly enjoyable encounter. Remembered the rushed panic in the snowy woods. Remembered the liquid fire running through them both, the veins in the leathery shell surrounding them shimmering with foxfire. And everything since, he remembered.

The storm around them howled impotently at their show of defiance - their conscious disregard for its might - raining ice down upon them with increasing measure as if trying to bury them from its view. Fire drew outward as she too remembered. The Arena. The cliff. Their home, the simple joys, the music. Their desperate lovemaking upon her rescue and return from too many missions. Within and without, him. She reached, both for that nugget, that heart, and for his body, the end of that last distance between them.

In that nugget, the roar of the storm, the savage meeting of flesh and claw, tooth and scale, the crack of lightning barely contained upon the ground, it all faded away. Within that shelter, a certain peace reigned supreme. One thing, however, she could claim at a later date, a marker to hold until a time of need, a sense of triumph. He moaned first.

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-03 13:29 EST
The human hand tenderly brushed dirty-blonde hair from her brow in sharp juxtaposition to the violent lovemaking they had just concluded. A bare circle of earth composed a dark halo around their nude, ice-glazed bodies. Azure wings lay flaccidly over them, unintentionally serving as a makeshift blanket. He shifted slightly, extending the long line of his body to place a kiss on the temple of the woman beneath him. ?Love?? he murmured, chuckling. Her eyes remained closed, body shivering lightly both in the aftermath of their loving and in the cold of the storm flowing around them.

The smile faded and he slowly pushed himself up onto an elbow, disentangling his legs from hers. The wings, too, receded from her space. ?Jaycy?? The second time his words extended both through physical and mental tracks; he sent a questing tendril over their shared link and found himself forcibly drawn in.

***
It was so cold. Her hands were leather-bound at the wrists, confining her bare body to the chill steel table. Tubes extended from both arms to poles on either side of the table, pinned in place by thick clear tape. Feet, too, were shackled down via long leather straps. Green eyes shifted from one end of her field of vision to the other. At the very edge a hint of motion tickled at her awareness. An attempt to turn her head in the direction of movement proved futile as blocks stilled her, nestled on either side of her neck.

She shuddered, the table?s refusal to warm under her form sending another shock down her spine. Her lips parted and pink tongue slid out, brushing over her lips in an attempt to moisten them. The man just out of her line of sight was muttering something; the voice pricked her gently-pointed ears and the right ear twitched with the attempt to hear the words.

***
He felt a lack of self-awareness from the being trapped on the steel slab. He too seemed a prisoner, confined in the mind of one who knew that it was a living, sentient creature but who had no sense of who it was. It was as if the person wasn?t anyone. It lacked a sense of gender; Psly couldn?t even tell the physical sex of the body he temporarily inhabited. Sensation was muted beyond the overriding cold that threatened to overwhelm even him, one immune to such trivialities. ?Jaycy?? he called mentally, confusion and a growing sense of urgency suffusing through the tie that bound them. ?Jaycy, what is this? Where are you?!?

A chill silence was his only response.

***
She realized it wasn?t the words themselves that were beyond her but rather the meaning of the words. She heard him well enough but she couldn?t understand him! He jabbered in some foreign language as he puttered through the place, gathering items before combining them and repeating the process all over again. He had yet to turn around and notice her eyes blinking at the too-bright ceiling. The regular beeping of the monitor attached to her chest and head via more tubes faded into the distance, a droning buzz of a sound properly relegated to the background of her consciousness.

***
?Jaycynda will be pleased. She is almost perfect.? A male voice emanated from the moving figure that niggled at the edge of his vision. ?A few more days and we will be able to sustain the personality implant as requested.? The lips of the figure Psly was visiting pursed in silent response to his mental frown. Jaycynda will be pleased? Personality implant? The body, it seemed, was female, if the man?s words were any indication.

Suddenly he remembered, a moment past triggered by circumstances present. A night much like this one, a night of power and pain. A vision they both saw, of a man with woman appearing exactly like Jaycy hovering overhead and an accompanying blinding flash of electricity that jolted them to the depths of hell and back. This scene, like the other one, had a sense of memory, of life lived and stored away.

***
He finally turned to his subject, frowning as he noted her eyes swiftly shut in an attempt to avoid detection. ?Well, it looks like I misjudged your form, my pretty lady, and did not give you enough. I shall rectify that presently.? He set the clipboard gently on the table?s surface and twisted his torso in search of a particular item. He found it swiftly, lifting the syringe long enough to depress the plunger and remove any air from inside the barrel.

?It is time for you to take a nap, dear. You shall wake soon enough.? His free hand drew the hanging IV line toward him and he pushed the drug into her system. She felt a warm flush pass over her and soon drifted off into unconsciousness.

***
He blinked rapidly and instinctively ducked as the wind spread snow over them. Wings protectively wrapped around both his and his wife?s body. The woman beneath him had regained some heat to her core. ?Jaycy?? he asked after the spray settled, collected flakes glittering in the weak night light.

Her eyes opened and a smile curled up on her lips. ?Well, hello,? she returned, green-gold gaze drifting as far down his body as she was able to. ?I seem to have gotten lucky.? He chuckled, relaxing slightly and stealing a kiss. ?Indeed, love. Ready to go home??

Her brows lifted as her amused light faded. ?Erm, mayhap I should know one thing first. Who?re you??

Psly froze, his hand stalling at her hip. ?Pslyder, Jaycy. Your husband.? His words echoed through the link as well as in the snowstorm, seeking reassurance the link remained. His hand slipped away from her body altogether at what he found ? a link that remained but an emptiness where every sense of his wife should have been. Jaycy was missing. His nightmare of a few moments ago had become reality.

?? who?re you?? he finally asked.

She paused, canting her head to the left, shifting leaves under her silver-streaked red hair. ?That?s a good question. Why don?t you tell me??

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-04 00:27 EST
In through the door, still heedless of the cold (though the snowdrifts weren't any sort of cakewalk), Psly stood for a moment, waiting for Jaycy-who-wasn't to trundle along behind.

The redhead wasn't far behind, utilizing the path he blazed through the snow to find easier footing. Despite her body's resistance to cold, her feet still tinged blue after the walk (short as it might have been) - the resistance wasn't absolute, after all. There was a distinct lack of sway to her walk, steps were perfunctory, solid and purposeful without attaching any hint of the woman that she looked like. She eased through the space left to her and walked forward a few steps, peering about.

The house, decorated simply enough to remain tasteful, large enough to accommodate their other selves, felt warm. Nearly hellish, after the outdoor adventures. "If you'd like, there are clothes upstairs. First door on the right, the big closet." Even while he sought to keep the tone neutral, a tinge of worry crept into his voice.

"Thanks, Pslyder." She cast him a smile, something pleasant enough but not quite containing the natural ironic humor that usually colored one of Jaycy's grins. It was perfectly ordinary, of course. She padded forward lightly, sneaking a glance down toward her hands. Both hands simultaneously extended the thumb and index finger out, the thumb to the side and index straight out. At the top of the stairs she stilled, taking another look at her hands in position before turning left.

Other way. The link remained, though carefully filtered on his end. That way's the bathroom. In the meantime, skin darkened and toughened, changing to a semblance of his 'usual' attire, that of boots, jeans, shirt and jacket. The one constant, the thin golden chain holding a single ring.

"Oh. Right." She twisted her torso to peer down at him and waved a little. "Thanks." She obviously heard the mental voice but either didn't know how to respond in kind or she didn't want to. Curiously, though, she didn't seem surprised by the sudden voice ringing in her mind, despite that being the first time she'd heard it used. "Be right back." She spun completely and walked into the indicated door. A few minutes later she returned, brows knit. Her bottom was bare, a long chemise was tied onto her head, and arms were through the legs of a pair of jeans. It seemed there was more missing than just the woman's personality. "They don't work very well," she called downstairs to him.

He had to bite back a laugh. Quite literally, it took gnawing on his tongue for a moment. Finding the silly in the serious had always been a coping mechanism for him, but now wasn't the time to go laughing at her wardrobe choice. "I'll be right there." Taking the steps up slowly, he wished for a moment that smoking still appealed. Part of him really wanted something acrid and burning in the air right about now.

"Thanks." She turned again and once more disappeared into the master suite. While he was taking his time getting to her, she undressed and allowed the clothes to drop in a puddle at her feet. The task took several moments as she struggled to remove the jeans but she finally managed it. Finally free, she turned in the middle of the puddle and stood at a loose attention, waiting for his arrival and assistance.

Walking into the suite, he felt a momentary tinge of panic, seeing her standing like that. No hint of attitude, no sense of self. It tore at him. Sighing to cover the lapse, he moved over to stand next to the full-length mirror on the closet door. "Alright then. Bring those over here, and let's see what we can't do, hmmm?"

Compliant to his commands, she bent down and gathered the puddle in her arms. Pale iced feet began to regain color, and on the way she stumbled a step or two. "Ow!" She stopped and dropped the clothes, immediately sitting down and grasping first at one foot and then the other. "There is something wrong with my feet. They're on fire!" She didn't think to vigorously rub them but rather squeezed them tighter. "I don't think I can walk anymore." The warmth - decidedly not hellish at her point of entrance or now - pricked at frozen feet as it brought them back to life.

"Here. Let me see." Dropping to a kneel, he held out one hand.

With an unconditional trust, she extended both feet at the same time. "What happened to them?" She leaned back as feet extended and set both palms on the floor for balance.

"Your feet got cold. Now, they're warming up. So they're complaining about the change." Edging forward, he cupped one heel in his hand, then the other, and put the soles of her feet to his chest. By that point, the jacket had faded away. Now, this is an awkward position to say the least, and totally chased the idea of showing her how to dress out of his head. While her ice-cube feet warmed, he offered another sigh. "Well. This is, I imagine, a rather strange situation for you, isn't it?"

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-04 00:30 EST
Her toes wiggled lightly on his chest as they came back to 'life.' "I'm not sure if this is strange. I woke up with you, out there. Things seem ? different. I can't place what's different but I just don't understand." Nor, it seemed, did she have a complete education on how the world worked. It was odd that some things seemed to come naturally, such as her understanding what clothes were (though, if he asked her, she would point out she saw clothes on him just prior to finding her own) or understanding (to a degree) her right from her left, and others were foreign, such as how to wear clothes properly or what happened when flesh got too cold. "You're Pslyder. Is this supposed to be strange?"

"No. It's not. Something. . .something's happened, and I've got an inkling that it won't be easy to fix. You. . .the you that's missing, that is. . .you and I have been married, for quite some time now. And yet. . .something's gone quite horribly wrong." Worry, concern, a dash or two of anguish. . .he'd been careless for a moment, watching her as the chill eased in her feet. Memories, snippets of them at any rate, started to trickle.

She frowned, feet stilling against his chest as leg muscles relaxed and she pressed a little harder against him. It wasn't to hurt but just to ease muscles that would soon begin to ache if she held her legs up too much longer. She moved her palms from the floor and leaned all the way back, lightly resting her head where her palms so recently were. "Are you sure I'm the right person? Maybe something happened to you?" She didn't mean it sarcastically but she also didn't seem to take into account the fact that she didn't know who she was, not him. The trickling memories seemed to be absorbed as they shifted along the link but perhaps not yet comprehended.

Faint, brief images of her in gypsy skirts, fighting leathers, ribbons and lace. Sound blips of her voice, her purr, her laughter and her anguish. Like tiny little ants finding their way through an old garden wall, following a sugar trail. "No, love. I'm quite sure of it. After all. My jar up here is rather full, where yours is echoingly empty."

"What are you doing," she finally asked after several moments of silence, beginning to sort through those moments he allowed her to see. "Who is that?" Perhaps she had never looked in the mirror for she didn't seem to recognize the woman projected. She blinked normally, even slowly, as she stared at the ceiling above while assessing the situation.

"Hmmm?" He'd gotten lost in thought for a time, while warming her feet there. Perhaps it was due to making a study of this, this china-doll replica she'd seemed to become. All of the looks, none of the being. "Oh. . .that's you. See?" Moving back and away, he reached over to open the closet door, tilting the mirror to show her while he sat.

Her head pulled up to view the image in the mirror as he directed. "Oh. That's nice." There was a mild interest in the woman in a detached way; it seemed that not only was she not Jaycy but she wasn't committed to becoming Jaycy once more - she just was. "I mean, how are you making me see these other things? It's like you're putting them in my head."

Picture frames. A few were scattered around the room, one notably in a place of honor on the wall. A reprint of a shaky phone photo, done by a pirate, showing two lost souls joined by an immortal. "In a way, I am. We have a bond, you see. A rather strong one."

"So what happened?" That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? "What were you two ? we ? doing when it happened?" Feet fell away from his chest finally as she sat up straight, legs settling on either side of him for balance. "Where are we, anyway? Where do we live? What do we do?" She shrugged at her own questions then asked another. "What do we need to do? You're unhappy with this. I want to fix it for you."

"That's a great many questions, and to answer them all. . .you're going to have to do something very frightnening, and altogether dangerous." Scooting across the rug, he put back to bed, sitting upright on the floor with the great four-poster as backrest. "You see, I have an idea, and it means you're going to have to trust me."

"Okay." That might have been a sign that Jaycy had returned because Jaycy did trust him unconditionally, but Jaycy still would have asked Psly what he planned to do so she could be more of an active participant and potentially assist him in the process. She turned on the floor to face him, crossing her legs into a more meditative position without thought. "Go ahead."

No, that wouldn't do. Resting elbows on knees, he patted his chest. "Lean back here, resting on me. This. . .will probably be a shock to both of us."

"Okay." Utterly obedient, she leaned forward until hands touched the floor again and she edged toward him on hands and knees, only to turn and drop onto her rear before scooting back into him. "Like that?" Her hands settled on her legs in a neutral position.

"Like that. Now. . .lean back, and take a deep breath." He did the same, letting his eyes drift closed. While she readied herself, he took the time to put the worry, the relentless fears, the unreasoning panic, all into their own little boxes. Lock them away now, deal with them when there was time.

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-04 00:33 EST
She leaned back into him, loose red hair fanning across his bare chest as it was pressed between their bodies. She took a deep breath, then another. Her mind remained as blank as new canvas, not troubled by the worry she might normally have had. She was truly a waiting receptacle.

Piece by piece, from the moment they'd met, when he'd first carved a name for himself. . .through their trifling interactions in TDL and the rings, even during the paradigm-shattering events of the cloning and possession, the times he'd mentioned something in passing. . .to the first meeting in the Inn after her note, the woods rescue (oh, how that still ached, to know how close it had been), and the linking by blood. He crafted an image. Not a perfect one, missing many pieces. But an image nonetheless. An outline of her. Of how she used to be. Actions, expressions. . .even Midnight Oils, and the scowling Arlen. He'd judged that to be enough of a start.

The amount of memories he shared still took some time; given all in a jumble she would have never known where to start to sift through all of them. The redheaded woman gasped once the transfer was finally complete, sitting up straight and breaking the connection. "Oh my goodness!" She stumbled to her feet and spun to face him. "How did you do that?" She assimilated the images, yes, but they still weren't her. They just gave her the blueprint how to act. "Do you think ??" Her words trailed off as she tried to find the words of the memory she was attempting to access ? his cloning, as much as he showed her. "I feel like I've seen that before! Sometime else!"

For a moment, he rubbed throbbing temples, concentrating most of all just on breathing. "Yes. You have. I. . .I got that flash for myself, out there in the snow." Hopefully, by now, she'd assimilated enough to know what clothing went where, for even now, she's awfully distracting standing there like that. What he'd shown her of his own experience was muddled, looking through the nutrient fluid as he'd done. But he'd known, he'd been there for the design process. He knew what to expect. That had probably filtered in as part of the transfer.

Unfortunately for him, without his direct instruction to get clothes on she wasn't going to think of it. "I ? I'm ? there was ? a man ??" Her gaze turned questioning, seeking confirmation for what she was trying to remember. "Did you know him?" She continued to face him, standing, but without any of those tell-tale postures that would indicate Jaycy. "What do we do?"

"First. . .if we're going to go out to find answers, we need to get you dressed, love. Much as I like how you look. . ." He couldn't bite it back this time, the tidbit of humor. "Then, we should probably see about getting you something to eat. See, I've got another bit of a shock for you, and it's a doozy."

She answered his humor with a simple "okay" and a move toward the pile of clothing she'd attempted to don earlier. She knew how to use the clothing this time, but it still didn't account for a matter of taste in clothing choice. That was why the chemise hung down almost to her ankles over the jeans by the time she was finished. "What's a doozy?" she finally asked, turning to face him with her task complete.

Fortunately, the room was big enough for this type of thing. "This. Now, please, don't panic." The two worst words ever to say, hmmm? Skin blossomed to scales, great leathery wings curling as they unfurled, to keep from knocking things asunder. "This is the real me. Just like this. . ." Another image, of her tiger-dragon sleekness, easing down the link. "Is the real you."

"Whoa." One benefit of her blank slate was that she wasn't prone to extremes such as fear - she didn't exactly know to be afraid of the dragon she was now facing. "How do you do that?" Or better yet, "what are you, real-you?"

It was best to keep these sorts of things simple. "I'm a dragon. Now. As are you." The memories of their bonding still ached fresh and raw in his mind, dredged up and sliced anew.

"Okay." She accepted that news as easily as everything else thus far. The ramifications of what dragons really were and really did seemed lost on her, perhaps unimportant to her mind in the grand scheme of the situation they found themselves in. "Did you mention something to eat before? Mayhap we should do that." One quirk remained from Jaycy, it seemed - her tendency to say "mayhap" instead of "maybe" or "perhaps." The word choice was unconscious and natural. She suited deed to word and walked toward the door of the master suite. Psly helpfully had shared the floorplan of the house in his earlier sharing, so she was able to puzzle out the location of the kitchen on her own.

They'd passed through it before at any rate, though she probably didn't know what it was at the time. Reclaiming his earlier, smaller form, he followed, shaking his head at the image of jeans under dress. If the situation weren't so utterly dire, this would've been a fabulous laugh.

(( Adapted from live RP! ))

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-07 22:49 EST
She made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, knowing he was almost directly behind her. "What do we eat?" She meant "what do you want to eat" but something crossed in the mess of scattered memories. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, awaiting more clear instructions patiently.

"Meat, usually. Though to start, you might want a bite or two of fruit. It's a little easier on the eyes." The distinctions between the two foods were best left for another time. Opening the cold box, he took out a few items. Sliced apples, some late fall berries and the like. He still had a craving for such things from time to time, and they always made enjoyable finger-foods during surprise breakfasts. For a moment, he had to stand there and fight down another wave of panic and loss.

Jaycy moved in to share in the bounty released from the cold box; she reached for a berry straight from the counter without waiting for any other preparation. ?Wait a second, ho --.? Breathe in. ?They need to be washed before we can eat them. Gimme a sec to get it taken care of.?

?Okay,? she answered as she backed away from the counter. ?I will wait near the thing.? Walking backwards, her straight path took her to the marble island in the middle of the room. He spared a look back at her, first cutting up the cheese and setting it on a plate retrieved from an upper cupboard. Fruit, once washed, followed onto the plate and he lofted it, carrying it to where she waited.

The prepared plate of finger-foods rested between them where he set it as he leaned on the island in the kitchen, watching this woman who looked so much like his wife that it tore at him. He picked at the tidbits, silent for several long, tense moments. Finally, though, he spoke up again. "So." Whole encyclopedias nestled into one single syllable.

She remained near the plate but standing straight up, occasionally nibbling on the various treats laid out for the two of them, testing each and every choice. "I like these," she stated in idle observation. While she may have had no unique personality attached, the more she learned about the world currently around her, the more she was able to make decisions and have opinions. It was just like birthing a new person - just one that looked so much like someone who was supposed to already be here. "So what happened to ? me ? had happened to you before? Sort-of? Why did you do it?"

"I didn't have a choice. It was either move consciousness to a new template or die. Wasn't ready to die yet." His fingers twitched. He hadn't craved a nerve-steadying cigarette in years, until now.

"Do you think she had to die or do it, then?" Her hands fell to her sides after finishing the apple slice. "Did you ever talk to her about it? Do you think she knew?"

"It didn't really come up in conversation. If. . .if Jaycy didn't offer it up, I didn't pry." His mistake, that. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." She shrugged both shoulders, seemingly truly unconcerned - or perhaps she didn't wager a guess as she didn't know the woman in question at all. "I don't know," she repeated. It was beginning to look as if she were at the end of her conversational rope and needed the guidance and prompting from him to thoughtfully engage in the discussion.

"Okay then. . .would you like a few more memories and the like? If you're feeling overwhelmed, you'd probably better say so." Really, he's trying to let her know it's alright to offer up an opinion now and again. It was either that or break down and resort to the grab and shake approach that never worked right.

"I don't think I'm feeling overwhelmed," she finally said after a moment's thought. Her eyes had closed briefly in the pondering but she never tilted her head or moved otherwise. "What are these memories for? What are we going to do with them? Do you want me to become your Jaycy?" Her green-gold eyes turned to him before she took a stance eerily similar to his in leaning against the countertop.

Gods above, she was killing him by degrees. "I'm trying to bring Jaycy back. . ." Voice caught a moment, and damned if he didn't go to the cupboard for a bottle of something stout. "Does that upset you? That I want my wife back, when you're what's left when she's gone?" Two fingers of scotch, then three. It didn't do much but taste smoky, but he knocked it back in a single gulp anyway.

"No, it doesn't bother me." There was a lack of inflection in the response, as it seemed was becoming the norm. In fact, it seemed curiosity was really the only true expression of emotion or interest she was capable of at the time (even if her capacity was growing the longer she was "alive"). "What other memories do you want me to have?" She returned to the previous topic, unresponsive to his sudden drinking.

In his mind, glass flew and shattered, stone crumbled, wood splintered and the air itself sizzled. In the kitchen, the glass clacked quietly against the countertop. "All. All of them. Even the ones I can't give you. I want her back."

Jaycy Ashleana

Date: 2013-03-07 22:52 EST
"Okay." She straightened and moved to a chair. "I am ready." Pulling out the chair, she settled into it, back straight and hands clasping in her lap. "Mayhap the memories can tell us how to get her back for you." She looked up to him, oblivious to the destruction within his own mind (for all that they remained linked).

Holding up a finger, he kept a one-handed grip on the counter, facing away from her. "Minute." This wasn't her fault. And his rage didn't care if she was innocent or not. She's there. So he had to throttle it back. Way back.

"Okay," she answered, again utterly compliant. She waited, still and almost prim, letting him take any lead to identify when he was ready. A tinge of anger drifted through the link but its only outward sign was a frown from the redhead.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. When he finally judged himself ready, he turned, leaning back against the sink. "Okay." Another trickle of memories filtered down. This stretch held more audio than the last. Conversations, sounds of laughter, sounds of intimacy (those made him grit teeth), training sounds. Everyday noises, and the subconscious information tags to let her mind make sense of them.

One good thing (among everything that could be considered bad) was the more she knew, the faster she could assimilate newer memories and make additional connections. Her eyes fluttered closed and movement was visible under her eyelids as she virtually downloaded the information. Finally, she opened those eyes once more. "Okay," she said. "Do you want to do those married things now? I can if you'd like." She really didn't mean any specific "married" thing, of course.

Crunch. Mental note. Call repairman for sink. Uttering a sigh and dusting off porcelain from his hand, he looked down at the rubble on the floor. "No."

"Okay," she agreed. He was likely going to hate that word very soon at this rate. "You hurt ? broke ? your thing," she observed. "Sink," she amended. "Do you want me to help you?"

Sigh, 2.0. "No. . .I'll call someone to fix it. Later." Sliding down to the floor, he cupped his forehead in dusty hands, curling fingers into his hair. The sheer frustration of it all jangled on the link.

She echoed the sigh, a product of the feelings he was perhaps unwittingly sharing. "I am sorry, Pslyder." Even if she didn't exactly mean it, the snippets of conversation allowed her to recognize those were socially acceptable words. She might have even said it sincerely, however, having learned of empathy and sympathy in the short time. "How do you show me things? Am I able to do it too?"

He wasn't looking at her now. It helped, but just a little. "Do you feel the link? There, on the edge of consciousness?"

Her gaze grew distant as she sought what he expressed. "I do," she finally agreed. She extended her consciousness, questing mental fingers tiptoeing along the spider-silk line that connected them. "It feels like I am walking to you yet not."

"That sounds about right." Not thinking much beyond the moment, he put up tighter than tight shields around the emotions wracking him, leaving the memories out for her to see, if she wanted to.

It took her a moment to get used to the idea of sharing the mind of someone else, but once she realized she was sifting through his memories instead of waiting for him to consciously share them with her, she metaphorically dove in and absorbed random moment after memory. She wasn't elegant about it, he could easily follow her blazing path through his head. She plundered his mind for several long minutes before finally skipping back along that line she had discovered. Her eyes opened and she turned to watch him, silent. Not used to shields, though, he might have heard the echoing thought in her mind regarding certain images and times. He must be married a lot.

"No. Just once." This was going to give him one raging headache. Eventually. Rising up from the floor, he picked up a chunk of cheese and chewed on it.

"Oh." She nodded in agreement. "I am sorry, Pslyder," she repeated. "What do you want me to do until she comes back to you?" She was starting to get tired, excited by the events, but didn't think to ask where she would be staying, or sleeping. He might want her to do something more ? proactive in gaining Jaycy back. Something she didn't yet know.

"You're going to sleep upstairs for now." Meanwhile, he'd be on the couch, or up on the roof, or somewhere. "After that. . . we will just have to see about making inquiries."

"Okay," she nodded. "I will go up there and sleep now." She stood to suit deed to words. "Thank you, Pslyder." A smile was likely appropriate there, at least from what she understood from the memories shared. So a smile is what she granted him. "I will ?" She paused, plumbing the shared conversations to find the right words. "? see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

The redhead walked through the kitchen and up the stairs, quickly out of sight without any further interaction with him.

(( Adapted from live RP. ))