Born again

[not_snake_bite]

We can only suppose it is the fact that he was, er, utterly destroyed that would explain how slow his return might be.

Steerpike is back, half amnesiac - he only remembers the Mansion in patches. Specifically, he remembers faces.  A woman, good to him, beautiful and sullen.  Something about a watch. And he might place a few faces, without

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[hardlyagravated]

And of course, of course, the first person he runs into would be Laurel. Laurel, whose life has been ashambles long before she met him, but he threw the shattered pieces into sharp relief.

"I have something of yours," she says, low and steady.

[not_snake_bite]

He starts, cowering from her, hiding his face, though whole it is.

"Would it be my name?" he murmurs, broken and lost. He steals a look, and her face is so.... there might be a gasp of wonder.

Her name, he knows not, but her face is beauty and happiness.

"Lady?" Tentative.

[hardlyagravated]

"Yours is Steerpike. Mine is Laurel." A pause. "Are you hurt?"

[not_snake_bite]

"Laurel..." the name is whispered like a prayer.

"No," he murmurs. "But I am..." his hand on his face, and... lord.

"By the stones."

He just realized the skin is smooth, where it should be waxy.

[hardlyagravated]

She nods, then pulls a small piece of porcelain out from a pouch at her waist. "It was smashed, I'm afraid.. But I do not believe you have need of it."

[not_snake_bite]

"You..." he looks at her, wonder, and awe, and gratefulness. "You carried it."

His hand is still on his cheek. "But there was..." he looks about, bewildered.

Bits and pieces of shattered memories are flooding his mind, senseless.

"The fire..."

[hardlyagravated]

It's only a fragment, not the entire mask. And it has a few flecks of blood on it. "From the first time I met you, your face was as it is now. I'm afraid I don't know much more."

[not_snake_bite]

"From the first time I met you...." he looks at her again, the mask momentarily forgotten.

Two different pieces of his past, one live, the other broken. The first one is so much more interesting.

"What were you, to me?" He asks, almost begging. He hates not remembering more - he only knows that this face, this voice, he cherishes.

[hardlyagravated]

She looks down, momentarily, then says, "A friend, I hope. We had not known one another very long yet."

[not_snake_bite]

"Undoubtedly," he says, reverently. "My memories may be broken, but my heart remembers you."

He looks at the broken shard of the mask.

[hardlyagravated]

"I am sorry. Whatever happened to you..."

[not_snake_bite]

"What happened to me?" He's so confused. All he knows is that there was a woman called Laurel, whom he cherished, who was his friends, and that he wore a mask for no apparent good reason.

This is distressing.

[hardlyagravated]

"I do not know, exactly. But you were..." She can't quite say the whole truth. "Sorely injured. I saw only the aftermath."

[not_snake_bite]

He frowns. "I..." he looks at her, admits the truth. "I only remember your face, and a few things. I know not who I am, and so how could I know what..." He shakes his head. This is mind-boggling.

[hardlyagravated]

"Well. You seem well now, aside from your loss of memory."

[not_snake_bite]

He pats his arms, his legs. "My body is whole." Surprisingly so, if you ask the typist.

He looks up, impetuously looks at her. "What did I tell you, of me?" Then he stops himself, and her. "Mayhap it best you not tell?"