inkedspell | Memory Share for deercountry (2022)

Entry tags:

deer2,
memories

Memory Share for deercountry (2022)

These are memory share options for people interested in seeing some of Saeri's life.

One -- The fight where she gets trapped in the Mystlands
Two -- Traveling through mountains and getting attacked by a rainbow eye mountain lion.
Three -- When she is tortured by the Kraal and threatened with the lives of other captives to help adapt their weapons
Four -- Saeri wakes up to the aftermath of what she'd done when the Soulcarver awakened and Certain Choices Were Made to try and get herself free of it...which did not end well for her arm.
Five -- When she ~~begged~~ argued with JD to let her come with the Inkmetal Forge.
Six -- Her first reconstruction site after joining the Inkmetal Forge while helping after a major flood
Seven -- Baby Saeri memory of literally almost dying because her brother is a fucking horrible person who locked her in a windowless storage shed in the middle of a California summer.
Eight -- A talk with her older sister, Dahlia, after her brother destroyed her birthday cake when she was seven.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Please, Wynston!" you beg. You don't even care that you're begging. "Please return it!"

"I don't have it."

"I know you do. No one else would have taken it from my room."

No one else would have cared enough to do something to hurt you like this. Not even Mother. He is always taking your things. You do not know how he keeps getting into your room. You have so many locks now and yet somehow he finds a way in. You have to get better at your shields and barriers.

But that is for later. Right now you just want him to give back what he has taken.

The look on his face is full of contempt and smug amusement. He could deny that he has stolen from you forever and no one would doubt him. No one except you. Ms Halli is not allowed to question him. Father would not bother unless he thought it affecting your studies. Mother knows you deserve it. Dahlia never speaks up for you. Not when it might mean questioning Mother.

You are trapped. He knows it. You know it. Trapped at his mercy and you can only hope maybe this one he will care. Tears are building at the corner of your eyes. Frustration. You do not let them fall.

"If...If you return MAXI, I will tell Mother I was the one who took the opal aural crystals out of her astral necklace."

His eyes widen. He did not know you knew. Mother had fired the new maid and given Ms Halli a severe talking down to when they were discovered missing. But you know that he took them. You even know why.

"You don't know what you speak of."

"I do. And I know Mother has almost found them twice."

That may be the wrong thing to say, based on the look on his face. His teeth clench, his jaw is tight, his fists are balled to the point you think this might be the time he finally strikes you himself.

But he doesn't. His body relaxes and he cocks his head at you with that same smugness. "You confess, but only after I 'find them' and take them to her."

Another chance for him to better his status, as if it is even needed. Mother already thinks he is the most perfect son that could have ever been born. You don't buckle. You don't wilt or shrink into yourself no matter how much you feel like it. Instead you stand as stiffly as you can with your chest pounding and heart hurting.

"Deal. Now please return him."

He rolls his eyes and turns around, walking down the long corridor. You hurry to follow after him. He does not take the turn toward the wide, winding staircase, but instead walks through the grand foyer toward the dining hall and kitchens. You stay right with him until he goes to the door heading into the staff yard. You stop in the doorway, watching him walk down cobblestone path away from the house. Just standing in the doorway is enough for you to feel the thick, oppressive heat outside. It's a heatwave and a drought currently, not that one could tell from looking at the pristinely watered grass and shrubbery around the estate.

"Wait--you said you would return MAXI to me!" you call out.

He stops, but does not turn around to look at you. "If you want it, then come and get it. Or call the hired help to collect it for you if you do not mind taking them from their work. If you do not, it can stay where it is."

You're not supposed to be outside. You're not supposed to be outside. You're not supposed to be--

--it will not take that long, will it? If you are quick, collect your golem and return inside shortly, you should be fine. The heat cannot harm you that quickly. If you feel an attack coming you can get back inside to your inhaler. You will be fine. Everything will be fine (until Mother is told what you did-but-did-not-do).

You step out of the house, bare feet already stinging from the heat of the cobblestones. You move quickly, almost skipping across the path to catch up to Wynston. He is still walking, but once you see which direction he has taken you know where he is going. The storage area. Where the storage sheds and garden tools are kept.

You are not allowed outside. You are not allowed by the sheds. Wynston moves between them like he spends more than enough time out here. He comes to a stop at the red shed, the one Father's exercise equipment had also been removed to when he thought of another use for the gym-no-longer. He jiggles the lock and it pops open easily, as if it was only set to look like it had been locked properly.

"I left it in here," he says. "I knew you wouldn't have the brains to search outside the house on your own."

He opens the door and motions inside. "Go get it yourself and shut the door behind you." Then he turns and walks away.

It's hot, you can already feel sweat starting to bead up on your brow. You watch his back for a moment, before pulling the door open the rest of the way and stepping into the shed. There is barely any light. No windows. The vented slats on the walls only let slivers of it into the shed. You stand still for a while, letting your eyes adjust. You see a cycle, stepmaster, rolled yoga mats in the corner, even a weight bench. So many things Father bought on a whim but had little use for.

But no immediate sight of MAXI. It would be like Wynston to hide it well enough to make finding it more than just inconvenient. That doesn't deter you. MAXI is too important. You had almost finished him and did not have the time to remake him before the deadline. You need to get him back. So you look. And look. But still you don't find MAXI.

The air is so hot and thick in the shed from the lack of proper circulation. You cough at the dust and your chest seizes. You scrabble to lean against the weight bench for a moment. Your heart is thumping in your ears as you try to reclaim your breath. It's hard to focus and there's that same fear building up in you that you overestimated what you can do again.

You were wrong. You can't do this. You need to get back to the house.

You turn around, trying to steady your breaths, but they come out in pants and coughs, you can't hold any air in for long. You're holding to much. Turning at that moment gives you a clear sight of the door to the shed slamming shut and something scrapping at the metal. Darkness descends.

No.

"W-Wynston?" You stumble, banging your leg on something hard and heavy before falling into the door. It doesn't budge. "Wyn--Wynston! O-O-Open the door!"

Footsteps. Laughter. Your head hurts and you can't breathe. It's so hot.

"You think you're so brilliant, Sorry, figure out how to open it yourself." He bangs on the door hard enough it makes your body rattle against it. "Remember this next time you think you can get one over on me."

You push at the door. They only bend but don't open. The lock is holding them tight. "Op--Open the door," you say, wheezing. "Please. I--I need--" You stutter and gasp. You can't get the words out. It's too hard. You try, but the only thing that comes out is strangling, gasping sounds.

You slide down the door, grasping at your chest, trying to calm down. You remember your breathing techniques. You remember to sit up straight and take slower, deeper breaths. The air is so thick and burns your throat. Your head is swimming. You're sweating, gasping, and maybe this is how you die.

You always knew you were going to die. He was going to kill you one day.

You don't know what hurts more, your lungs or your heart. Your chest feels like something could burst out of it, ripping apart all the expensive work done to keep your worthless sack of flesh alive, just like Mother says.

Maybe you'll haunt him. Maybe you'll come back as a direwraith and feast on his soul. The thought shouldn't be so comforting, but you're dying and making him regret it is the only thing you can think of.

Everything is fuzzy and it's hard to think. You can barely see in the shed, but the pain and the thud against your temples make you close your eyes anyway. Why can't you think? Why is it so hard to think? Maybe your brain is being deprived of too much oxygen.

Maybe Mother will be happy when she finds out you're dead. The first time you will have ever made her happy.

Maybe... Maybe...

Edited 2022-12-11 12:51 (UTC)

[vi is still trying to remember how to breathe when she sends this, having never experienced a body so fragile, so desperate to push through just to breathe air. it isn't even toxic, it's just hot. thick and hot and clogging up her throat, her chest again in flashback, her thoughts a flurry of desperation, fear, anger, worthlessness and despair before she tries to turn them outward instead of inward.

no light.

(no family, that's not family)

no air.

(no hope)

it's like being in a cell and then the body's betraying you.

thoughts a jumble, she stumbles twice before sitting, breathing, breathing---

---seething over the memory.]

Hey, you. Daily reminder: you fucking rule, and your family is full of shitbags.

If that brother of yours shows up here, I'm gonna beat the air out of him myself.

[The only reason for Vi to send her something like this is if she saw something. And considering the time of year, of what she remembers from last December, the only thing Saeri can wonder if what. Because there is a lot of things Vi could have become privy to that would drive someone to want to beat the shit out of Wynston Gale.

Usually it doesn't have anything to do with her. He's just that much of an asshole.

Does she ask? Does she want to know? Just how much ~~anxiety~~ embarrassment does she need?]

I know I'm amazing, but validation is always nice.

Everyone wants to beat the shit out of Wynnie when they meet him. I could sell tickets.

[the last thing she wants to do is give you anxiety. so if this gives anxiety ...or embarrassment she is sorry in advance. and also: blame trench. blame the ornaments. or remina. if her texts seem more composed than usual, it's because she's using speech to text.]

It is, isn't it? So I'll do it again. You're cool, cute, smart and funny. And you're a great artist.

Fang, I'm fine. No, not that part, don't type that. Backspace. Erase that sentence.

Well, I met him, and I sure wish I didn't, so sign me up for a pair of tickets, because Fang's in, too.

I don't know how else to do this, or if you even want to know the details. I mean ...you already know them, right? I don't want to make you talk about that. But I'm sorry. I had no idea what he was like. What you had to deal with. I'm not sorry I saw it, but I'm sorry it didn't come from you. This shit is always a mess.

[and yet trench just keeps doing it.]

[Saeri's lived with anxiety most of her life and does a great job pretending it isn't there, if she were to say so herself (not that she would because admitting that would be admitting the anxiety exists in the first place and that is the most anxiety-inducing thing of all). She breathes, and tries to calm the heavy knot in her chest or the tightness in her throat.

At least the lines to Fang make her huff out a little chuckle, strained though it is.]

Life can be really shitty. Here, back there, anywhere.

I don't hide from my life. I know where the shit's piled up isn't always where the flowers are growing.

I know all the details. I've never forgotten anything he ever did. If you need to talk it out, you know where I am.

[Because of course it's easier for her to talk about all the horrible things that Wynston did if someone else needs to work through it. Not the first time this has happened. Romero didn't handle it well either, when she tried to joke about it with him. Hadn't found it very funny at all.]

[SAERI NO. that is not the way to deal with anxiety, the way to deal with anxiety is to barrel through it and also admit it doesn't exi---

---no, that sucks, too.]

Yup. That's true. We both know it's a shit sandwich sometimes. I think it's a Trench requirement, I haven't met a single person here who was like "wow, my life back home? awesome."

It's good that you don't hide. But where do you put the shit if it's not under the flowers making them grow?

Pretty sure some shit's toxic, too. Not even good for growing stuff. Only good for, I don't know, bombs. Or putting in your brother's shoes.

How could you forget that? My bet is it can't have stopped there, with that one thing, that one time. That was. He was worse than mean. He tried to kill you. He planned it. He didn't care if you died.

That's fucked up. You know that, right?

Maybe I do need to talk it out. Maybe you do, too.

[She thought text would be easier, but it's not. Because her fingers freeze and she can't keep going in the same way as she does when she rambles and deflects. She's much better at faking when she's talking.]

Come over. I'm not going anywhere.

[Because this isn't about her. Of course not. At least her Carriage House has gone through several deep cleans and disinfecting sweeps after the mess that was November and the Mishaps of Magical Mayhem she and Robby dealt with.]

[text is easy when you just lie. or stop responding. but those things aren't really saeri.

she'll use the lamps, but at the last stop she'll parkour - if only just to test her lungs, to shake off the last bits of that - yeah...it's not quite shaken. so she's a bit winded when she knocks, but she doesn't look sheepish about it, she looks angry.

(yes, saeri. this is about you.)]

[She's casual and normal and Fine because everything is Fine. It's not as if she hasn't dealt with all of this shit before. As if she didn't have her own flaws and failures and the shitty family she was trapped with for 12 years brought up in therapy for a year and half before she convinced the therapist she was well-adjusted and Normal and doing much better than JD and Roan's concerns had implied. She is great at faking like things are not the big deal everyone ~~knows they are~~ thinks they should be.

So when Vi knocks, she opens the door and her concern is focused on Vi. Because that look not one Saeri is used to seeing on her face. She reaches out to take her hand.]

Come on in, I made coffee. [Again, because it's Vi that needs this, not her.]

Up the ladder. Not doing this on the 'seat. The tower's comfier.

[she will take that coffee - and ignore the flush of green in her cheeks, the small cough she makes - rolling her eyes in annoyance that she still can't get it together, and she'll go up the ladder, too. she won't stomp up it, no matter how much she has a mind to - no disrespect to anyone's space - it means a lot to even have a space of one's own.]

Yeah, the seat's got history, I guess.

[sure. she'll just acknowledge that, because why not. she's in the mood to just say all the things, and her filter's been fucked up by some little motherfucker whose ass she can't even kick.]

I'm gonna draw that little shit. And I'm gonna have Viktor make a plate for the boxing machine. And then, I'm probably gonna punch it til it breaks.

["History," all right. She doesn't comment on that, instead paying more attention to the way Vi is behaving. She's upset, but something else is going on too. And that gives plenty of Saeri to focus on that isn't whatever Vi wants to talk about.]

I broke his face once, only right everyone else gets a turn. Now go get comfortable on all those cushions.

[She snags the thermos she put the coffee in and the cups hanging on little hooks close by. She always makes she everything is available and in easy reach in the tower. Her futon is covered in the comfiest pillows, blankets, and sheets she could find. The perfect place to relax and learn.]

Here, drink.

[And if she doesn't tell her that the coffee was steeped in her Relaxation Pot, well, it's fine. She'll just stretch out right next to Vi on the cushions and wait.]

Oh, yeah? His whole face, or just a part of it?

[and her voice drops a little, her shoulders drop, too - an exhale as she does as she's told and drinks.]

It's hard to be ...comfortable after seeing that. Feeling it.

[which is to say ...how the fuck are you okay about this? nothing about that was okay. vi only ...got the trench version, the crash course, the quick and dirty bodyswap before she was out. that's nothing compared to living it. how do you...

...fuck.]

I hope you got out of there really soon after that. I don't mean the shed, I mean the whole place.

Pretty sure I broke some teeth. Didn't get to find out. Shit was happening and I haven't seen him since.

[Since he toss her into the Mystlands and left her to die there. She's trying hard not to get tense, because she's never hidden any of this. It's just...no one has a reason to ask. Not should ever have a reason to ask. Saeri has done a lot to make people believe she's okay. Because she is. She has always been fine.

But whatever Vi saw--and she can remember that day in ways she wishes she never could--she wasn't handling it well. She knows Vi's been through a lot of shit. She knows Vi can take on a lot. The fact she's reacting like this, she doesn't know if it say more about Vi or more about...her.]

It's not like he's the only person to ever try to kill me. [She's looking at her own mug of coffee when she says it.] It's not weird when living long enough to hit puberty is the big surprise.

Glad to hear it. I hope he's sucking his meals through a straw somewhere real shitty.

[she practically gulps the coffee, so it's not a surprise if she begins to relax just a bit, she's still ...angry, still left with a residual unfamiliar fear - of being helpless, of her body failing her. she takes a deep breath because she remembers she can. winston has just unseated joffrey as her least favorite person - or at least, has caused him to have to share his throne. the very idea of that's worth another bitter laugh.]

You get how fucked up that sounds, right? I mean, sure, I can say it, too. It's fucked up. That little shit was supposed to have your back. Family...

[sticks together.]

Oh, I doubt that. M--Alodia would spend millions getting his precious smile back to him. Nothing is too much for her Wynnie.

[Oh, there's just a tiny bit of bitterness there. She's relaxing and not as upset as she could be--there's a reason she made that Relaxation Pot--but also she's so very well resigned to all of that.]

And that wasn't my family. That was my prison and my wardens. 12 year sentence for the crime of being born like I was. Sickly and weak and even worse, unwanted. I got out and found my family. The only ones that matter.

Alodia's your mother's name, I take it? Not that I'm keeping a list or anything. [she might be keeping a list. and she's still coming round to the idea that relaxing is a thing she can do - that this doesn't have to be a battle, but it's hard.]

I said it before and I'll say it again and I know there's probably a line I have to get in, but either of them shows up here and we'll have a little go at what "too much" actually is.

I'm ...glad you got out. [not all prisons are the kind that say 'stillwater hold' above their doors. some don't even have bars at all. bodies are prisons, too. but the worst kind of wardens can make that even worse.] Unwanted. Tch. You were plenty wanted when you found your real family, to hear you tell it. But it pisses me off.

[just think of where saeri might be if her family had supported her in her endeavors? well, maybe she wouldn't have found her people but maybe she would have ...and sooner. maybe her family could have been part of that. yeah, yeah, woulda, coulda, shoulda ...useless, but it's a loop that her mind runs with some familiarity, what if. always the what if.]

And it's still fucked up. If you crawl through a minefield, get caught in razorwire and end up with shrapnel in your shoulder on your way to the best party ever, you're still gonna be fucked up when you get there. Even if the cake is great, all your friends are there, and they're playing your favorite song. Those scars you got on the way still stick.

Ask me how I know.

[Saeri spent so many years thinking "What if." What if she wasn't sick? What if she'd proven herself? What if she could finally do enough and her mother would be proud of her? It took going to the therapist after running away with the Inkmetal Forge for her to realize asking those questions only mired her in the Nevers of her past. Of not allowing herself to move on like she said she was.

Sure, she faked most of her sessions so she could get out of them faster, but she did learn some things. And she learned that as much as she hated them, they would never change their nature and why hate a snake for being one? Instead she sighs, and ends up leaning even more into Vi's side, thick hair cushioning her against Vi's arm.]

Believe me, you don't want to talk to me about cake. I gave up eating cake for seven years.

[She doesn't mean to say it that way, but it kind of slips out. Like so many things do when she's talking to Vi.]

[the feeling of that lean in - the brush and push of her hair a comfort, even if it makes her heart skip a little. that's ...normal, yeah? but she turns, her own head tilting, as she asks:]

Okay, so you know how this works, right? You know how I work. Now I've gotta ask why you gave up cake for seven years.

[it's random seeming - but this is saeri so there's got to be a reason, a connection. wait, is she trying to deflect? saeri, no.]

[It's totally normal for two friends to cuddle up with each other like this. It's normal to have fluttering feelings and avoid looking up because looking at Vi's face for too long made Saeri think about how amazing it felt to kiss her. That's not in the cards and she has to get over it. And she has. A little. The friendship will always take priority.

Except Vi also didn't know how to let things go and Saeri walked right into this one. She drank more of her coffee and let the silence drag for a minute.]

Let's just say the one time I got a birthday cake, Wynnie took offense.

[it's the normalest, of course. she gets these same fluttery feelings around---

---yeah, no. not really. but they're easy to overlook after that last statement because what flares up to take its place is anger.]

You know what? I'm not even gonna ask what he did, because I can't beat his ass, and I don't want you to think about it all over again.

[here's all that balance and even-keel bullshit she's been trying to put into practice. it's more coffee than anything else, but she's been working at this. the whole focus thing, and it allows her to see past some shit just now.]

So. Here's what's gonna to happen. You're getting a fucking birthday cake if I have to bake it myself a whole bunch of months late.

[why does that sound like a threat. well, it could be if vi attempts it. she's competent enough at cookies, but that's a different thing altogether. there are plenty of people in trench that could bake saeri a cake, though.]

[Saeri can't help but laugh a bit at that because she's pretty sure Vi has no idea how to bake a cake and it's so familiar. Romero had threatened her with birthday cake, too. She's laughing enough her body shakes and she's glad she drank most of her coffee so she's spilling it on herself or Vi.]

I eat cake fine now, ya know. This was years ago. But now, I definitely see why so many people just assume you're gonna big sister them.

Well, if you can eat it fine now, you won't have any trouble choking it down if I end up making a terrible cake.

[why is she suddenly chuckling just the smallest bit? she catches it, decides to let it out - it cuts most of what's left of the tension, anyway. (there are a couple kinds.) turns out saeri's laughter is contagious.]

That's not what I'm doin' at all.

[but it is. and she seems to realize it only after she's denied it - and as much as she tries to rein in the laughter, she can't. her annoyed expression is repeatedly interrupted by it - she can't hold the face at all.]

Okay, maybe a little.

[she is still getting a cake.]

[The edges of her feel soft, smoothed over in a way they rarely do. They are always present, even if Saeri takes care to blunt them around most people. She's made of jagged broken pieces stitched and welded together, tempered steel with the cracks covered and primed to hide them. She knows one wrong move could send it all shattering again.

But like this, with Vi, she feels easy. At peace. Even this topic doesn't feel as heavy, as suffocating. Vi just makes her feel held together.

Or maybe her coffee is working way too well.

She doesn't care which it is as the laughter fades into distant echoes and she just lowers her head a bit, fully settling against Vi like the comfy pillow she is. She even uses a foot to tug a thick blanket over their legs to keep the warmth in. The weather has been pretty shit lately and she's trying not to overuse her firewood and heat stones. The Carriage House isn't as warm as it could be.]

Thanks. It didn't matter, but you're here anyway so...yeah. Thanks. For being ridiculously you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Memory Share for deercountry (2022)

Seven (Age: 8) (cw: bullying, verbal abuse, medical distress of a child)

Seven (/banishes every bit of awkwardness)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject