[he will! which is how you know he's feeling a little emotional, since he's not immediately smacking molly away.
you don't owe the past anything? he can't understand that, when he feels like he's spent more time living in the past than actually seeing the present, never mind a future.]
... Yeah, still think you should get your head checked for that.
[ The memory is clear and bright, in the way that most terrifying experiences are, when you think them over.
You’ve just descended the stairs to the speakeasy of this Gentleman you’ve heard so much about, when a tabaxi turns to your group. She starts:
“Halt friends, I do not r— Lucien?” Her eyes widen in shock, but you still don’t know who she is, you’re racking your memory, but the name
The name makes you feel ill, all of a sudden, an itch at the back of your skull. There’s no time to consider it.
“It has been too long, two ye–”
“Far too long!”
“Two years!” She laughs, bright, hands still gripping your shoulders on either side, tightly, like an old, old friend. “Look at you! You grew out your hair! And you are covered in tattoos!”
There’s something in her expression that seems confused about this, as her eyes flit to your hands, your neck.
“We’ll catch up, we need a table, we need drinks for me and my compatriots.”
“Of course, you– these are your friends now?” She looks over your group, appraising, but then goes to do as you’ve asked. Drinks and a table.
You now get a better look up at the top, some skulking individuals with long dark cloaks and dark armor, carrying what looks almost like a heavy crossbow, but it’s a long, metal rod. You’ve only seen them in use here and there. A recently emerging technology that has been largely guarded within use of the empire itself.
The second she turns, you give Fjord - a green, half-orcish man, a little pat on the back and hiss a whisper at him. 
“I’m sorry, this is my nightmare, please just go with it? It’s Lucien.”
He simply looks a bit baffled in return. The tabaxi returns to the table, reaching her hands out for yours.
“Oh, too long.” She starts quickly, sitting up straighter, then her face suddenly turns apologetic. You see all the faces of your friends, twisted in confusion. They aren’t even trying to hide it.
“Nonagon. I apologize for using your old name. Nonagon, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Who can keep track these days? Again, a long story.” You manage to croak out. She doesn’t seem to notice. She just looks concerned.
“Nonagon, what happened? We watched you die.”
She looks expectant. As do the rest of them at the table. Jester, Fjord, Nott, Caleb, Beau. All of their eyes are trained on you. They all await your answer.
“I’m sorry, it— I think it all went a bit fuzzy at the end there. Won’t you remind me?”
The tabaxi looks almost stricken, but she recovers. Casting a glance at the others at the table, and then,
“I don’t trust these people, Nonagon, but—
If you trust them, then I trust you. You gave us a speech. We had a fine meal. We all got ready there in the forest . . . She said it would be hard for us to tell whether or not it worked at first, but we went and checked, and you were not breathing. For a good hour, you were not breathing and you had gone cold. We knew then that-- that we had lost you. We checked, and I'm very attuned to vitals, as you know. There was no heartbeat. So we waited longer. The sun rose, and nothing. So, as you told us, if anything were to go wrong, we had to get rid of any sign, any trace. So not far from the Tomb Taker hideout, we buried you and we went our separate ways. She took the tome, the mage woman, it was part of the arrangement you had with her. Her contract said she was in the right and that we knew better than to go toe to toe with her and her ilk.”
“So before you woke up in the dirt . . . nothing?”
You can feel the magic, pulling you. Whatever you say, it will be the truth. You’ve no choice about that for the moment. Jester doesn’t seem to be sorry at all.
“There is no before. Whatever happened before is not me. Some asshole got buried in the dirt. Fuck him. I am enjoying what I’m doing; I want nothing to do with that. Anything that came before, I was happy to just leave it be.”
“Do you really not want to know your past?” Nott is hesitant, hands in front of her, nervous.
“I really don’t. Whoever that was came to that end, and I want nothing to do with that. Whatever it was, it doesn’t feel good when I– the moment when something creeps through, I don’t like it. I don’t want anything to do with it. I was happy! I liked the circus! The circus was great!”
She tries again: “I’m sorry to belabor this, but what if you had a good life before this? What if you were famous or rich or had friends or family?”
At this, Yasha tries to intervene, how you love her, ”I think he’s quite an amazing person–“ but you interrupt anyway.
“Okay, here’s the thing that you’re not catching. That wasn’t me. This is mine. I don’t want anything from that other person anymore. That
 person is someone else. It was– I’m in for a penny, might as well. I’m told, although I don’t entirely remember this part, that I only said the word empty over and over again for the first week.”
“Empty. That sounds terrible. I don’t want to remember anything. I don’t want to anybody else’s baggage in my head and I don’t want anybody else’s problems, thoughts, ideas. I like this person, right now is a good person. Is a fine person. Is a happy person. It’s very freeing. It’s the best thing– it’s the thing that happened to me. It’s not the best thing that happened to me, it’s the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person.
What if the past feels that I owe it something?”
Beau pipes in, loud and brash as always. “You don’t owe your past shit. If I don’t feel anything about my past, but I still remember it and I still don’t give a fuck about where I came from then, why should you care about shit that you don’t even remember?”
You scowl right back at her.
“I spent two years before I met you all cajoling people, occasionally ripping them off, occasionally doing a good turn here or there. Never trust the truth. The truth is vicious. The truth thinks you owe it something. None of that. I like my bullshit. It’s good. It’s happy. It makes other people happy."
Nott, again: “But it’s not who you are . . . ?”
“It is exactly who I am. I may be a liar but I’m never a betrayer. I’m honest in my work, and I believe in doing a good turn. I’ve never cheated you out of money. I’ve never robbed from you. I stayed with that circus for two years, I know how people treat each other. It’s important. I don’t care where you’ve been. I don’t care what terrible things any of you have done. You’re here now. This is how it works.
I do my best every town I went to and every town I left, no matter how they treated me– and a lot of them treated me with deep disrespect. I left every town better than I found it.”
You can feel Beau’s glare from across the room. You don’t care. You don’t care at all what she thinks of you.
“Let me make this abundantly clear. My name is Molly. That person is dead and not me. It’s just a person who had this body. They abandoned it.
[white is, in fact, pretty lucky he got both parts of that memory. its slightly more elucidating that way. but he was told the last time molly had spoken about his past was under the effects of a truth spell - that much might ring true.]
Fuck.
[ . . .]
I don't know. Can you? At least-- You can remember the parts where I explained myself. That's all true.
You mean like all the eloquent shit you said that people probably put on Hallmark cards or something? Yeah, sure. Like, I didn't get anything else anyway, so, uh. I can forget about that.
[while he cries internally because no! he cannot! but he will tell molly otherwise for peace of mind.]
[he doesn't know what a "hallmark" is but he gets the jist of the comment - white thinks he's full of platitudes and bullshit. which probably isn't incorrect. he sniffs and thumbs his nose.]
Right. Good enough. At least you think I'm eloquent.
[look molly talks very fancy sometimes and it goes over white's head]
Kind of? It's complicated. We received power from two gods who are also sort of just the one god? Two halves of one whole? Some shit like that, I never really got it.
[one might get the impression that white doesn't actually know what he's doing most of the time, which would be correct.]
They were both a means to an end for Ares, anyway. Since, y'know, one of them only wanted to destroy the universe and the other one didn't actually approve of the whole "slaughtering humans" stuff. [a beat.] Well, between him and Redhead, we lost, so...
That is complicated. Molly, despite fancy talk, is also not the sharpest tool in the shed sometimes and so a lot of this just goes right over his head as well, but. well the memory makes it pretty clear that white had been working for the "destroy the universe" guy and . . . well. yikes, but still.]
... Well, one thing happened after another, and now I guess I'm helping out the geezer—uh, the god. The one who was our enemy. He's a hopeless idiot, so he needs all the fucking help he can get.
[it's said in the sort of exasperated tone you use for people who drive you crazy precisely because of how much you care for them.]
[Oh. Cute? White. Molly just looks so pleased? As if he's got any sort of right to be proud or not proud of white. ]
Yes, I think I know the feeling. [he is probably the person driving everyone else insane though.] . . . It's good to hear that. Leaving it better than you found it. Trying to help. You really are a good person, then.
[there is definitely an air of arrogance to the way molly just declared white to be a good person by his own definition as if he has the right to cast judgment or anything like that, but
there might be a reason hes on pride]
I'm only saying, I've met a lot of people, and I think I'm rather talented at picking out the good ones.
[he puffs out his cheeks childishly at that, tail whipping back and forth a bit]
Okay, look, joke was funny before but I do remember-- I remember most everything from my life. Just all the stuff before I woke up in a grave that I don't. [ . . .] And it's a bit fuzzy for a little while after that. But everything else!
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[at this point white has just
thrown most expectations of privacy out the window]
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You don't have to be. It's just the past. Don't really owe it anything, and I don't have to know it. Like I said, I'm good at forgetting things.
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you don't owe the past anything? he can't understand that, when he feels like he's spent more time living in the past than actually seeing the present, never mind a future.]
... Yeah, still think you should get your head checked for that.
1/2
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You’ve just descended the stairs to the speakeasy of this Gentleman you’ve heard so much about, when a tabaxi turns to your group. She starts:
“Halt friends, I do not r— Lucien?” Her eyes widen in shock, but you still don’t know who she is, you’re racking your memory, but the name
The name makes you feel ill, all of a sudden, an itch at the back of your skull. There’s no time to consider it.
“It has been too long, two ye–”
“Far too long!”
“Two years!” She laughs, bright, hands still gripping your shoulders on either side, tightly, like an old, old friend. “Look at you! You grew out your hair! And you are covered in tattoos!”
There’s something in her expression that seems confused about this, as her eyes flit to your hands, your neck.
“We’ll catch up, we need a table, we need drinks for me and my compatriots.”
“Of course, you– these are your friends now?” She looks over your group, appraising, but then goes to do as you’ve asked. Drinks and a table.
You now get a better look up at the top, some skulking individuals with long dark cloaks and dark armor, carrying what looks almost like a heavy crossbow, but it’s a long, metal rod. You’ve only seen them in use here and there. A recently emerging technology that has been largely guarded within use of the empire itself.
The second she turns, you give Fjord - a green, half-orcish man, a little pat on the back and hiss a whisper at him.

“I’m sorry, this is my nightmare, please just go with it? It’s Lucien.”
He simply looks a bit baffled in return. The tabaxi returns to the table, reaching her hands out for yours.
“Oh, too long.” She starts quickly, sitting up straighter, then her face suddenly turns apologetic. You see all the faces of your friends, twisted in confusion. They aren’t even trying to hide it.
“Nonagon. I apologize for using your old name. Nonagon, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Who can keep track these days? Again, a long story.” You manage to croak out. She doesn’t seem to notice. She just looks concerned.
“Nonagon, what happened? We watched you die.”
She looks expectant. As do the rest of them at the table. Jester, Fjord, Nott, Caleb, Beau. All of their eyes are trained on you. They all await your answer.
“I’m sorry, it— I think it all went a bit fuzzy at the end there. Won’t you remind me?”
The tabaxi looks almost stricken, but she recovers. Casting a glance at the others at the table, and then,
“I don’t trust these people, Nonagon, but—
If you trust them, then I trust you. You gave us a speech. We had a fine meal. We all got ready there in the forest . . . She said it would be hard for us to tell whether or not it worked at first, but we went and checked, and you were not breathing. For a good hour, you were not breathing and you had gone cold. We knew then that-- that we had lost you. We checked, and I'm very attuned to vitals, as you know. There was no heartbeat. So we waited longer. The sun rose, and nothing. So, as you told us, if anything were to go wrong, we had to get rid of any sign, any trace. So not far from the Tomb Taker hideout, we buried you and we went our separate ways. She took the tome, the mage woman, it was part of the arrangement you had with her. Her contract said she was in the right and that we knew better than to go toe to toe with her and her ilk.”
The memory fades.
But it fades into another scene.
Fjord looks worried.
“So before you woke up in the dirt . . . nothing?”
You can feel the magic, pulling you. Whatever you say, it will be the truth. You’ve no choice about that for the moment. Jester doesn’t seem to be sorry at all.
“There is no before. Whatever happened before is not me. Some asshole got buried in the dirt. Fuck him. I am enjoying what I’m doing; I want nothing to do with that. Anything that came before, I was happy to just leave it be.”
“Do you really not want to know your past?” Nott is hesitant, hands in front of her, nervous.
“I really don’t. Whoever that was came to that end, and I want nothing to do with that. Whatever it was, it doesn’t feel good when I– the moment when something creeps through, I don’t like it. I don’t want anything to do with it. I was happy! I liked the circus! The circus was great!”
She tries again: “I’m sorry to belabor this, but what if you had a good life before this? What if you were famous or rich or had friends or family?”
At this, Yasha tries to intervene, how you love her, ”I think he’s quite an amazing person–“ but you interrupt anyway.
“Okay, here’s the thing that you’re not catching. That wasn’t me. This is mine. I don’t want anything from that other person anymore. That
 person is someone else. It was– I’m in for a penny, might as well. I’m told, although I don’t entirely remember this part, that I only said the word empty over and over again for the first week.”
Caleb, asks: “M.T.? Or empty?”
“Empty. That sounds terrible. I don’t want to remember anything. I don’t want to anybody else’s baggage in my head and I don’t want anybody else’s problems, thoughts, ideas. I like this person, right now is a good person. Is a fine person. Is a happy person. It’s very freeing. It’s the best thing– it’s the thing that happened to me. It’s not the best thing that happened to me, it’s the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person.
What if the past feels that I owe it something?”
Beau pipes in, loud and brash as always. “You don’t owe your past shit. If I don’t feel anything about my past, but I still remember it and I still don’t give a fuck about where I came from then, why should you care about shit that you don’t even remember?”
You scowl right back at her.
“I spent two years before I met you all cajoling people, occasionally ripping them off, occasionally doing a good turn here or there. Never trust the truth. The truth is vicious. The truth thinks you owe it something. None of that. I like my bullshit. It’s good. It’s happy. It makes other people happy."
Nott, again: “But it’s not who you are . . . ?”
“It is exactly who I am. I may be a liar but I’m never a betrayer. I’m honest in my work, and I believe in doing a good turn. I’ve never cheated you out of money. I’ve never robbed from you. I stayed with that circus for two years, I know how people treat each other. It’s important. I don’t care where you’ve been. I don’t care what terrible things any of you have done. You’re here now. This is how it works.
I do my best every town I went to and every town I left, no matter how they treated me– and a lot of them treated me with deep disrespect. I left every town better than I found it.”
You can feel Beau’s glare from across the room. You don’t care. You don’t care at all what she thinks of you.
“Let me make this abundantly clear. My name is Molly. That person is dead and not me. It’s just a person who had this body. They abandoned it.
it’s mine now.”
And there it ends. ]
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look, white is stupid. everyone knows this. so, it should come as no surprise that he has no idea what any of that was about!]
Uh... w-what? Wait, what the fuck? What the fuck was that?
[he presses a hand to his head, trying to regain his bearings all over again. that was—
well. he remembers how molly prefers things, so.]
... Actually, should... Should I also just forget about that?
[admittedly, he doesn't think he can.]
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Fuck.
[ . . .]
I don't know. Can you? At least-- You can remember the parts where I explained myself. That's all true.
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[while he cries internally because no! he cannot! but he will tell molly otherwise for peace of mind.]
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Right. Good enough. At least you think I'm eloquent.
[ . . . ]
. . . So you work for a god or something?
[eloquent]
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Kind of? It's complicated. We received power from two gods who are also sort of just the one god? Two halves of one whole? Some shit like that, I never really got it.
[one might get the impression that white doesn't actually know what he's doing most of the time, which would be correct.]
They were both a means to an end for Ares, anyway. Since, y'know, one of them only wanted to destroy the universe and the other one didn't actually approve of the whole "slaughtering humans" stuff. [a beat.] Well, between him and Redhead, we lost, so...
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That is complicated. Molly, despite fancy talk, is also not the sharpest tool in the shed sometimes and so a lot of this just goes right over his head as well, but. well the memory makes it pretty clear that white had been working for the "destroy the universe" guy and . . . well. yikes, but still.]
So that's over? What are you doing now?
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... Well, one thing happened after another, and now I guess I'm helping out the geezer—uh, the god. The one who was our enemy. He's a hopeless idiot, so he needs all the fucking help he can get.
[it's said in the sort of exasperated tone you use for people who drive you crazy precisely because of how much you care for them.]
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Yes, I think I know the feeling. [he is probably the person driving everyone else insane though.] . . . It's good to hear that. Leaving it better than you found it. Trying to help. You really are a good person, then.
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Ha—how was that what you got out of that?
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there might be a reason hes on pride]
I'm only saying, I've met a lot of people, and I think I'm rather talented at picking out the good ones.
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... Don't know how trustworthy that is coming from a guy with memory issues...
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Okay, look, joke was funny before but I do remember-- I remember most everything from my life. Just all the stuff before I woke up in a grave that I don't. [ . . .] And it's a bit fuzzy for a little while after that. But everything else!
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[he reaches over to pat white on the cheek]
There's a good boy.
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I'm not a kid! You're the one whose profile says they're 2!
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I am 2! Plus however long. Doesn't matter!
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