[Kevas is in the middle of his daily training when he reaches the green. Nothing quite keeps your mind of things like working till you drop. Of course he's quickly distracted once he sees as certain redhead wandering around.]
[The voice strikes a chord in her memory, such as it is. Comfort, anxiety, devotion, exasperation, and in the middle of it a grinning green man with tusks poking out under his elongated nose.
It's not the important thing that she's lost -- she can tell -- but it's an anchor. Maybe 'Nel' is her name.]
[She just looks at him, standing awkwardly in her bloodstained tunic, sash, and breeches. The front of the material over her chest is still ripped. She may not remember what happened, but she knows something did.
Even without most of her memory, she can pull off that desert-dry drawl.]
No, waking up smelling like blood is something I do often. Is Nel my name?
She starts to shake her head, no, she doesn't know who the troll is even if his face is achingly familiar, but a two-syllable word pops into her head before she can deny him.]
I-- yes. I do. Kevas.
[She doesn't like this one bit. Her eyes are wary, bewildered.]
Nel could totally wear a dress, given the right motivation. And occasion. And a piece that doesn't restrict her movements or require she wear shoes that are foot suicide.]
You know what I'm missing, then.
[Not phrased or pitched like a question. Kevas knows more than she does, and it garners him her rapt attention.]
Nel!
[He's making a beeline right for her.]
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It's not the important thing that she's lost -- she can tell -- but it's an anchor. Maybe 'Nel' is her name.]
Nel?
[She's so hesitant.]
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Nel are you alright?
[Kind of a dumb thing to ask someone who just died but, something isn't right here.]
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Even without most of her memory, she can pull off that desert-dry drawl.]
No, waking up smelling like blood is something I do often. Is Nel my name?
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Of course that's your name.
[Kevas pauses for a moment.]
Do you know who I am?
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She starts to shake her head, no, she doesn't know who the troll is even if his face is achingly familiar, but a two-syllable word pops into her head before she can deny him.]
I-- yes. I do. Kevas.
[She doesn't like this one bit. Her eyes are wary, bewildered.]
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[Was dying too traumatic for her? No, that can't be it. If he can handle it then she damn sure can.]
Is there anything else you can remember?
[He doesn't like this either.]
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Nel grimaces, glance skittering away.]
Wish I did.
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Kevas thinks back to what Nieta told him. At the time he guessed that she'd have some memory lost, but nothing like this.]
It'll come back to you, and I'll help as much as I can.
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Nel could totally wear a dress, given the right motivation. And occasion. And a piece that doesn't restrict her movements or require she wear shoes that are foot suicide.]
You know what I'm missing, then.
[Not phrased or pitched like a question. Kevas knows more than she does, and it garners him her rapt attention.]
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Maybe, it be dependin' on whatchu be lookin' fuh.
[Whether it's an item or more of her memories he's not sure.]
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