[He huffs an actual laugh at that. It is dark, but, you know. Nothing wrong with some dark jokes.
He's quiet, still, but that makes it difficult maybe to notice the memory shifting into focus instead. This one is short. More a flash than anything.
You're on your hands and knees in a field, searching, searching - you can tell the carts are halted not too far away, in the treeline. Everyone is setting up for the night, and you, Mollymauk, are shirking your responsibilities. But this is important. It takes a while, but eventually-- you grab it in your hand, check it over. Yeah. Four. (You had to learn to talk again, but counting isn't so bad).
You jog off back towards the carts, poking your head around one to make sure she's still there. Yasha's sitting, back to you, doing something idle like sharpening her sword or organizing her things. When you lean your arms over her shoulders and lean over her she starts - blinking - eyes a bit wide up at you. You put the four-leaf clover in her hair.
[That's. . . very sweet. He smiles a little at that memory.]
Well. No surprise that what you remember is a little nicer than what I have.
[But because seeing the clover, he can't help avoid thinking about it, Molly gets the memory of them meeting Lucien. Starting from when they enter the cavern and try to explain themselves to him, why they're following him, and he refers to Molly as an "uninvited guest who took the reins for a bit," and a "fragment left behind" when his soul was split. But there's also some parts where they say cute stuff about Molly?
And then at the end, Yasha opens her book and hands the four leaf clover to him, and says "Before you go, you gave me this four leaf clover one time. And you told me that hopefully that would bring me luck, and that life would be a little bit better, so-- and it was, thanks to you. So I know you're not in there anymore, but we really did care about you. But, we'll be following behind you, be safe." And he takes it, twirls it around in his fingers, and tucks it in his jacket.]
[Honestly his emotion on just hearing all of this is more just a reaction of disgust to this motherfucker. Who is this guy and who the hell does he think he is?]
Ah. I am not including the parts where he is trying to kill us as part of the ‘dickishness.’
More stealing our belongings and dispelling anything we do with magic and pretending it is because we were being inconsiderate, this sort of thing. It made us look back quite fondly on the times you were a dick.
I think we agreed that you are more of an effortless dick. Not as intentional about it, much more likable.
. . . It’s strange. From time to time he would say things that were so similar to you. I think we thought for a while maybe we could talk to him, but. . . no.
[He'd been joking about it a moment ago, but he doesn't care for this thing where apparently he and this ... thing are similar in any way. Even though he can see that himself. It makes him a big disgusted. Nauseated.]
[Local tiefling exploring new and fascinating ways of practicing self-loathing, self-loathing experts astounded. He's quiet for a second at that, before he just ... nods.]
... I'm not sorry about dying. I-- If it helped Beauregard and you and Nott get the hell out of there, then I'm alright with it. But I'm not going to sit here and say I didn't want more time.
[He says that softly, thoughts unavoidably going to that twitch in Lucien, the hesitation to hurt them. But he tries to shut down that train of thought so he doesn’t accidentally start to share.]
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He's quiet, still, but that makes it difficult maybe to notice the memory shifting into focus instead. This one is short. More a flash than anything.
You're on your hands and knees in a field, searching, searching - you can tell the carts are halted not too far away, in the treeline. Everyone is setting up for the night, and you, Mollymauk, are shirking your responsibilities. But this is important. It takes a while, but eventually-- you grab it in your hand, check it over. Yeah. Four. (You had to learn to talk again, but counting isn't so bad).
You jog off back towards the carts, poking your head around one to make sure she's still there. Yasha's sitting, back to you, doing something idle like sharpening her sword or organizing her things. When you lean your arms over her shoulders and lean over her she starts - blinking - eyes a bit wide up at you. You put the four-leaf clover in her hair.
"That one's for you. For luck."
Then it's over.]
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Well. No surprise that what you remember is a little nicer than what I have.
[But because seeing the clover, he can't help avoid thinking about it, Molly gets the memory of them meeting Lucien. Starting from when they enter the cavern and try to explain themselves to him, why they're following him, and he refers to Molly as an "uninvited guest who took the reins for a bit," and a "fragment left behind" when his soul was split. But there's also some parts where they say cute stuff about Molly?
And then at the end, Yasha opens her book and hands the four leaf clover to him, and says "Before you go, you gave me this four leaf clover one time. And you told me that hopefully that would bring me luck, and that life would be a little bit better, so-- and it was, thanks to you. So I know you're not in there anymore, but we really did care about you. But, we'll be following behind you, be safe." And he takes it, twirls it around in his fingers, and tucks it in his jacket.]
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... You are killing this arsehole, yes?
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Already you feel that way, and you haven’t even seen all the greatest hits of dickishness. This was good behavior.
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The-- Bit where he grabbed Beauregard by the neck and made her bleed from every face hole wasn't even a greatest hit?
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More stealing our belongings and dispelling anything we do with magic and pretending it is because we were being inconsiderate, this sort of thing. It made us look back quite fondly on the times you were a dick.
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Glad I look so flattering in hindsight.
[He's unwinding a bit from the tight ball of anxiety he was earlier, just relaxing his legs out. Still staying against Caleb's shoulder though.]
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I think we agreed that you are more of an effortless dick. Not as intentional about it, much more likable.
. . . It’s strange. From time to time he would say things that were so similar to you. I think we thought for a while maybe we could talk to him, but. . . no.
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Uninvited guest. It's my fucking house.
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[Putting aside that his contempt for Molly is one of the ways he’s similar to Molly.]
So don’t. . . give this asshole the satisfaction of saying you shouldn’t be here anymore. We prefer you, and we can always evict him.
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[Local tiefling exploring new and fascinating ways of practicing self-loathing, self-loathing experts astounded. He's quiet for a second at that, before he just ... nods.]
... I'm not sorry about dying. I-- If it helped Beauregard and you and Nott get the hell out of there, then I'm alright with it. But I'm not going to sit here and say I didn't want more time.
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[He says that softly, thoughts unavoidably going to that twitch in Lucien, the hesitation to hurt them. But he tries to shut down that train of thought so he doesn’t accidentally start to share.]
A little more time sounds good.
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... Never thought of my life as complicated before. When the fuck did everything get so complicated?
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[You woke up in a grave with amnesia, sir. Your circus had a fiend in it and broke out in zombie attacks.]
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No! Exciting and interesting, I suppose, but not complicated. Until you lot showed up. Then it got very complicated very quickly.
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No, no, you're right. I think you're free and clear on this particular bit of fuckery.
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So many good memories from the past year I could have given you. Instead, nothing but ugliness.