( Pain pulses behind his eye again, though this a little different from the usual agony of forcing himself to remember something he can't. It's part exhaustion, part frustration. Were he anywhere else he might hole himself up in one of the many Ghost Valley boltholes and try to think. Instead he is here, a place he does not recognise, hunted and harassed by statues of someone he does, with no memory of ever having been anywhere but Qingya and the Jianghu at large. Would he not recall somewhere so strange? The soup of oblivion is strong, surely, but he has thought off parts of it before. He'd make himself remember.
Wouldn't he? )
Say it's luck then. ( A little harsher than his friendly demeanour before, more frazzled through. ) I'm known to make my own. Perhaps this time it will stick.
( Anything to get away from murderous foliage, either way. )
no subject
Wouldn't he? )
Say it's luck then. ( A little harsher than his friendly demeanour before, more frazzled through. ) I'm known to make my own. Perhaps this time it will stick.
( Anything to get away from murderous foliage, either way. )