24th Note
------First video------
[The scene for this memory is outdoors--a bright, sunny day, with a soft breeze gently swaying the branches of some flowering trees. Under one of the trees sits a young couple. The first is a tall, plain, dark-haired man with glasses gleaming in the sunlight, blocking his eyes from view. He's sitting down on the blanket with a grumpy expression, bent over a book and a pad of paper, every now and then pausing in his reading to scribble down a note. Next to him is a woman with long indigo hair, her clothes colorful to the point of gaudiness, and large, sparkling earrings in her ears. She seems a little bored, watching the man study with her chin resting in her hand. Some distance away is a five-year-old boy with the same colored hair as the woman, clutching a jar in his hands and slowly walking forward with a determined look.]
Woman: ...[indistinct talking for a moment]--ldn't have brought along those books with you.
Man: My research is important. I can't just drop everything just because you suddenly decide to have a picnic.
Woman: You need to get out of the house sometimes! When you're not working, you just sit in your study and read all these books. No author can be this important, not even--
Boy: U-um! Look!
[The woman stops, turning towards the boy as he holds out the jar. It's full of water, and there's a few black, slimy tadpoles swimming around in it. The woman smiles.]
Woman: That's marvelous, Autor! Did you catch those yourself?
Autor: [Nodding enthusiastically] Of course! I don't need anyone's help to do something like that.
Autor's mother: [Bites her lip for a moment as if trying to prevent herself from laughing before she smiles at him, obviously amused.] Of course not. Because you're a big boy, aren't you? [Autor responds with a nod, as his mother nudges the man sitting next to her.] Uhrmacher, your son is trying to show you something.
Uhrmacher: Mm? [Frowns and looks up from his book, adjusting his glasses to peer at the jar...and then, for a brief moment, the frown is replaced with a slight smile, his eyes now visible.] Tadpoles, eh? ...Good job. You have talents even beyond writing, don't you? [His wife makes a face at the mention of Autor's "talent in writing", but the boy doesn't notice--he's too distracted by his father's approval. He marches up with his nose in the air, setting the jar down in front of his parents before picking up another empty jar.]
Autor: I'll catch even more this time! A whole bunch of 'em. And when they're frogs, I'll write princesses for them so they can turn into princes!
Autor's mother: Autor--
Uhrmacher: Of course you will. Be careful not to fall into the water while you're catching them, though. A writer can't write if he's sick in bed with a cold.
Autor: I wouldn't do that! [And Autor turns and runs off in the other direction, the camera panning away to follow him as his mother's voice is heard off-camera]
Autor's mother: [obviously irritated] Stop filling his head with such ridicu--[mumblemumble]
------end------
-----Second video-----
[It's Autor again, this time much older--probably close to the same age he is now. He walking through the stone-paved streets of a town, seeming careful to keep in the shadows cast by the buildings around him. Off in the distance two people walking ahead, apparently unaware of his presence--the first one just happens to be Fakir, and the second is a woman wearing a pink shawl, her arms looped around one of Fakir's. After a moment, it's rather obvious that Autor's following them, although he's trying to look as nonchalant as possible. After a moment, he raises his eyebrows.]
Autor: I see...I think I know where they're going to.
[He quickly makes a turn and starts to run along a few narrow alleyways, slowing to a casual pace as he walks out into the main streets again and strolls right into a flower shop, a bell ringing as he enters the door. He nods his head to acknowledge the storekeeper's greeting, then casually looks around the shop. Every now and then he glances behind him to see who's standing outside the shop--and when Fakir and his apparent date appear through the window, he picks up a bouquet of orange flowers and carries them to the counter.]
Autor: How much do these cost?
Shopkeeper: Oh, only [insert some amount that Haley didn't to research--yes, I'm lazy, shut up]
Autor: [Digs around in his pocket and pulls out a few bills, setting them on the counter.] Here--will you have any more in next week?
Shopkeeper: Oh? Yes, they should still be in season--
Autor: Good. Thank you.
[Autor leaves the shop, holding onto the flowers and glancing at Fakir out of the corner of his eye as he passes by--the Shopkeeper calling out a thank you that Autor barely notices as he turns and walks away.]
Autor: What right does that girl think she has to be so familiar with the Descendant? She's completely unrelated...
------End-----
----Third Memory-----
[This memory is in a candle-lit room. In the distance there's the sound of cawing crows. The video itself is focusing on two figures--Autor, holding tightly onto a thick book that he's holding in front of himself like a shield, and a old man trying to strike him with an axe. Autor manages to make the book take the blow instead of himself, but his arms are shaking with strain as he tries to push the axe and the attacker away.]
Autor: Fakir is just trying to end the story!
Bookman: Tell him to stop! Look at the town full of crows! Don't resist him anymore with your immature abilities. The story is being controlled by a mighty power! All immature efforts will do is invite unforeseen tragedy!
[Autor struggles with the man for a moment more, before the Book Man pulls back his axe and raises it into the air. Autor lets go of the book and--with a split-second expression of realization--begins to run towards a writing desk across the room that Fakir's sitting at.]
Autor: LOOK OUT! [The attacker follows and brings down his axe towards Fakir's hand, which is clutching a quill. Autor grabs Fakir and pushes him out of the way just as the axe hits the desk, slicing through the paper Fakir was writing on. The two boys hit the floor, and Autor quickly pushes himself up, whirling around and gritting his teeth. With a growl he rushes at the man and tackles him, throwing him into a pile of debris.] FAKIR, WRITE! [The view becomes blurry after that--Autor seems to have lost his glasses in the process.]
[Fakir seems dazed for a moment, but gets up and sets his chair back up again, moving to sit back down at the desk.]
Autor: [Sounding a little weaker now, the image of the video starting to fade away] Write...write for the one who is waiting for your story...
-----End----
((OOC: Autor hasn't noticed any of these videos are floating around the Network yet--and he probably won't be able to take them down when he realizes they're there, anyway. BTW, the first memory is completely made up by me, the second is a brief glimpse of him in canon that I embellished, and the third is taken verbatim from the dub of the series. I know I did a loooot of memories for him, but I haven't done much exposition of his backstory since I restarted him, so. I figured it was time for some character development~. Feel free to have your character only see some of them, or all of them if you want.))