A naked Dastan appears!
Who: Anna tigressina and Dastan makesowndestiny
What: Dastan and Tus went POOF GONE, over the walls of the keep, and now Dastan is running around without his memories--or clothing.
Where: The barracks--then who knows.
When: After Mads has been killed by Anna, and Dastan and Tus made their getaway ( Read more... )
What: Dastan and Tus went POOF GONE, over the walls of the keep, and now Dastan is running around without his memories--or clothing.
Where: The barracks--then who knows.
When: After Mads has been killed by Anna, and Dastan and Tus made their getaway ( Read more... )
It would be something that would be incredibly, incredibly unpleasant and painful, that much she knew.
She walked through the keep n, her mind in an entirely different place and time as she rounds a corner, and--
Blink. Blink blink.
"Dastan?"
She had to stare, because he was naked
"What...what are you doing?"
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Desperate, Dastan took a few halting steps towards her. There is recognition in her eyes. A name on her lips. At him. His name?
Then she speaks once more, and Dastan's brows knit together as a frown tugs his lips. Why...couldn't he understand her? Then something clicked over in his mind, and he was able to make slight sense out of her question.
What and doing. Perhaps they were not words he easily understood?
"Please, you have to tell me! What is this place? Who... who am I?"
And why did his words sound so different from hers?
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Her words were sharply cut off as soon as they left her lips, because the sudden realization of what he was saying hit her.
The confusion on her face was evident, and she scrambled for her journal.
He didn't remember - when people didn't remember, they had either left and come back, or...
Or they had died.
She flipped the journal over with shaking hands, trying not to look at his nude form in front of her.
"You are Dastan. I do know you - and...please, come with me. We must get you some clothing."
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Writing in odd gibberish, of which he can only understand three or four words out of, and writing he can read and understand completely. His jaw drops, and he points to the page.
"Is that--is that normal?"
Then the written words register, and Dastan gulps, peering down at himself. He was naked, wasn't he? And near a beautiful woman at that. Who knew him.
Slowly, Dastan backs away a step, then another. Something flickers out of the corner of his eye, and he very slowly reaches up, grabs the torch hanging near eye level, lifts it from its resting place, and brings it down a safe distance away from himself, but at what he judged was the proper angle to keep his private bits private.
An awkward grin crosses his face.
"You mentioned clothing?"
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...Impossible not to, really.
"It's normal." She nodded her head for emphasis, then exhaled a quiet, relieved little sigh when he covers himself.
She just hopes he doesn't set himself on fire.
"...Yes. In the Clothier's tower. We should..ah, get you some. Immediately."
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Dastan very much hopes he does not set himself aflame as well.
"Right. Clothes," He drawls the word out. At least he remembers it, now. Then his brows tuck together. "Where do you suppose mine went?"
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She has no idea why you busted out into the halls naked, Dastan. Judging by the fact that you don't seem to remember anything, she's assuming you died somehow - and she is very unimpressed with that.
However, that still doesn't explain the nakedness.
"This way."
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He follows her, hoping for answers. Curious about her and about himself. Curious about these stone walls.
He kept the torch in front of him a bit awkwardly, then decided to step back a little and follow, so he was out of her line of sight.
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She kept her eyes forward as she led him up towards the clothiers.
"Someone I keep in my company." She flicks her eyes over her shoulder and meets his."
"That is not something you should take lightly, amigo."
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"So you like me then?" There is a certain cunning spark to his eyes as a grin finds his face. "Admit it."
Then, after a five second pause he asks, "Do we ever fight, or argue?"
He moves to lightly touch her arm, expression solemn once more.
"What is your name?"
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"You are my friend, yes." She keeps her eyes straight.
"We do not always see eye to eye on things. But few do, anyway. It is part of life."
And this is what stings - he should know her name, know who she is - this st confirms that something has happened and he's died and Anna will rip the person who killed him into tiny little shreds with her teeth if she finds out who murdered him.
"Anna. Anna Dominguez."
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"We must trust each other a great deal then."
Because some inner sense of knowledge told him he would travel to any length for his friends. And he would trust they would do the same.
Then he chuckles at her eye-to-eye comment. For some reason he wished to banter with her. See what might upset her--how much control she had over her emotions before she ripped him a new one.
Now why would he want her to do that?
"Anna..." He says her name softly, then repeats it. He's trying to remember--truly. His face scrunches together at the effort.
"Will my memories come back, do you think? Or will I remain this way?"
It was a troubling thought, but he had to ask. He would face it--either way. And he would trust in this woman who saw kindness and compassion in him.
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"I think they will be coming back to you." She brushed a strand of hair from her face a she reached for the door of the clothier, pushing it open and gesturing him inside.
"It will take a few days, mon ami, but I do believe they will come back."
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"Oh, good. I don't have to feel like a baby stumbling upon my feet, then." He tosses a boyish smirk Anna's way--whether or not she catches it.
"Now--"
Suddenly Dastan sped up and twists in from of her in an attempt to halt any further progress. He leans an elbow casually against the Keep's wall and holds the fire from the torch away from both of them.
"I must know." His eyes narrowed in contemplating thought. "Does mon ami mean friend, or lover?"
His heart was pounding in his chest, but he had to know. He deserved to know, did he not? He held his breath, feeling nervous all of a sudden, despite his relaxed pose.
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She started to make her way inside the clothier, taking a few quick steps but he was faster than she was, and she found her path blocked and her body pressed right up against his...nude one.
...
"...My language...it is not..." She clears her throat and stands tall. "My first language is called New American. Common, I do not speak it that well, but I have been teaching you, yes? My common is getting better, but sometimes, I lapse into phrases from New American, which is...a combination of many languages that were most used from before the war of my home."
She looked up at him, and met his eyes.
"It means friend."
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He gulped.
"Friend. Right. Good."
He nodded, then stepped back a little.
"So, ah... I believe we were going to find clothing? Is it in here?"
Dastan turns and peeks into the clothier's tower, providing an excellent view of his backside for Anna to glimpse if she isn't careful.
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