10-22-2018, 10:49 PM
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LIPSTICK, RED WINE LONG NIGHTS, IT'S A LIFESTYLE SO GOOD TO THE LAST DROP YOU COULD SEE ME LIGHT UP FROM THE ROOFTOPS
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Listen: Maria’s memory sucked.
And this wasn’t getting into the whole novel of her past-that-she-couldn’t-recall; this was just...in general. She was shitty with names and faces, unless they had some amount of emotional significance to her brain. Maria couldn’t say that she felt particularly bad about going up to someone she’d known for three weeks just to say, “Hey, what’s your name?” because everyone was different. It didn’t mean she didn’t care, it just meant she didn’t care enough to generate a significant feeling with someone’s name.
Her poor recall of names was only the beginning; the tip of the iceberg. Her memory dysfunction extended past names and faces - it went onward with recent events, words, social manners; all of it went right out the window.
However...if she was going to live here, she supposed she could stand to be a bit lenient and put forth some actual effort.
The Somali had taken to the grassy fronds just beyond the observatory walls, right where the fields grew thick. She was there purely based on how nice it felt to hide, though she wasn’t doing a great job of it; her auburn pelt contrasted starkly with the pale sage grass blades fading fast in the autumn weather. No matter, she wasn’t trying to hide. But there was a security blanket that came with it.
Green objects watched an unfamiliar face pass by with open interest, ignoring the sparks that eluminated the bandages on her legs. God, fine - she’d have to get to know most people at some point or another.
“Alright, folks - I hardly know any of you except for Mufasa, Mufasa, and cannibal boy.” She paused, shrugging. Mufasa was apparently their leader, but she still felt little shame for calling him out. “If I could get to know you better, I’ll make it worth your while - I specialize in light shows.” She winced. “Well, I kind of specialize in them. Whatever - doesn’t matter. You get the gist.”
[/td][/tr][/table]And this wasn’t getting into the whole novel of her past-that-she-couldn’t-recall; this was just...in general. She was shitty with names and faces, unless they had some amount of emotional significance to her brain. Maria couldn’t say that she felt particularly bad about going up to someone she’d known for three weeks just to say, “Hey, what’s your name?” because everyone was different. It didn’t mean she didn’t care, it just meant she didn’t care enough to generate a significant feeling with someone’s name.
Her poor recall of names was only the beginning; the tip of the iceberg. Her memory dysfunction extended past names and faces - it went onward with recent events, words, social manners; all of it went right out the window.
However...if she was going to live here, she supposed she could stand to be a bit lenient and put forth some actual effort.
The Somali had taken to the grassy fronds just beyond the observatory walls, right where the fields grew thick. She was there purely based on how nice it felt to hide, though she wasn’t doing a great job of it; her auburn pelt contrasted starkly with the pale sage grass blades fading fast in the autumn weather. No matter, she wasn’t trying to hide. But there was a security blanket that came with it.
Green objects watched an unfamiliar face pass by with open interest, ignoring the sparks that eluminated the bandages on her legs. God, fine - she’d have to get to know most people at some point or another.
“Alright, folks - I hardly know any of you except for Mufasa, Mufasa, and cannibal boy.” She paused, shrugging. Mufasa was apparently their leader, but she still felt little shame for calling him out. “If I could get to know you better, I’ll make it worth your while - I specialize in light shows.” She winced. “Well, I kind of specialize in them. Whatever - doesn’t matter. You get the gist.”
© MIITHERS
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★ I'M GONNA RUN THIS EMPIRE
and if i go down in flames, the smoke's gonna spell my name