IC Inbox: In the Night

[worthallthis]

[There is no message for the voice inbox. Just a beep.]

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[fjorgedinfire]

And sue him, he is curious. "The Chair... some kind of punishment, then?"

[worthallthis]

All anybody ever has to do is ask, really. "You know most of my memories are gone. That's how. The Chair. Stuff me in it, strap me down, the halo comes down, and-- and it channels a shit-ton of electricity into my brain." The plates in the metal arm ripple a little under their sleeve, and they pause to rub at one temple with the metal fingers, as if feeling the ghost of it. "Took everything away, start over, hard reboot." Not that a medieval character like Fjord will know what a hard reboot is. The rest ought to be clear enough.

[fjorgedinfire]

Fjord's eyes flick down automatically at the fabric shifting, and a faint frown crosses his face.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he says, a touch softly. "I'm sorry they did that to you."

It's not an apology of claiming responsibility; he just hates that Soldat was forced to suffer that, to lose everything, no doubt multiple times. He wishes better for his friend. (He wonders if dying is a blessing in disguise for him, there.)

[worthallthis]

It kind of has been. Soldat shrugs, focusing back on their meal rather than their poor, abused head. "It's over now. Even getting the sensations of it here doesn't do more than shut me down for an hour or two. The memories are still there when I come to. First time it happened, I thought I was going to come back not remembering anybody." That was terrifying. The whole ordeal is still terrifying, but with it happening twice now, at least they know their memories are safe. From that, anyway.