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Memoirs 294 - Conversations with oneself
🕑 Added 2024-09-29 21:36:10 +0000 UTCScarlett stared down at the young girl beside her, a cocktail of wariness and incredulity coiling tightly within her. The younger Scarlett was back. She hadn’t expected her to reappear now, and certainly not in a memory tied to Arlene.
Her gaze darted around the room. Arlene and the others were still deeply engrossed in their talks, none of them so much as batting an eye at the small girl who had seemingly materialised out of thin air. Not even a flicker of recognition passed across their faces, as if the girl were nothing but a figment — a ghost in the backdrop of these events.
Scarlett’s eyes lingered on Arlene. “…Is there a reason that they do not notice you?” she asked, voice low to avoid drawing attention.
Next to her, the younger Scarlett smiled, a cold, knowing expression that felt all too familiar. “Why would they? I was never here in this Memory,” she replied, her tone detached, as though stating the obvious. “Why should they see what never existed?”
Scarlett’s brow rose. Memory, not dream or vision, or anything else. Once again, the younger Scarlett spoke with a conviction and understanding that did not fit her appearance.
“At least, that is what I assume,” the girl added, tilting her head as a dark red lock fell across her forehead. “How should I know more than you?”
Scarlett narrowed her eyes, turning to consider her young look-alike. Was she implying that her existence here was somehow tied to Scarlett’s own understanding and experience? Like…what? Some sort of projection or manifestation of her subconscious?
Was this the original Scarlett or not?
“If you are hoping that I am here to provide all the answers, you will be disappointed,” the younger Scarlett said. “My presence here is more your doing than mine.”
Scarlett frowned. Did this have something to do with what The Gentleman had hinted at about a medium? If she was that medium, or related to it in some way, then it was likely that her presence was influencing these constructed Memories. If so, she couldn’t deny the possibility that she had inadvertently wanted this younger Scarlett to appear. But would that explain the girl’s apparent self-awareness?
Scarlett scanned the room again, ensuring no one noticed their exchange, before turning back to the girl. “One question, then. Are you real?”
The younger Scarlett’s smile pulled into a tight, disdainful line. “Real? What gives you the right to ask that? I would certainly consider myself more real than you.”
Scarlett fell silent. She recognised that tone, the sharpness and defiance in it. It was a response she could easily see herself giving, under the right circumstances. The girl’s stare, the confident set of her shoulder — this was a younger Scarlett, without a doubt.
Yet, for all the similarities, Scarlett couldn’t fully accept it. Even now, standing face to face with this girl, there was a sense of denial, a part that balked at the idea. But, frankly, she could hardly blame the girl’s reaction; she, too, would have been irritated if someone questioned her reality, if only out of sheer principle.
She exhaled slowly, allowing herself to slip back into her composed demeanour. No matter if this girl was the true original or not, she had to treat her seriously.
“My apologies,” Scarlett said. “I may have spoken out of turn.”
The younger Scarlett arched a single brow. “An apology? Are you not forgetting yourself? Or is that what I should expect from an apostate?”
Scarlett's gaze sharpened. “Why do you call me that?”
“An apostate?”
“Yes.”
“Is that not what you are?” The girl looked her in the eyes. “Do you consider yourself anything less?”
“…An apostate of what, exactly?” Scarlett asked.
“Of yourself,” the younger Scarlett replied, her words gaining a razor’s edge. “Or of me. Whichever version you prefer.”
Scarlett studied the girl for a long moment. There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to argue against that statement, but she did not quite know what to say. Eventually, she turned her attention back to Arlene at the other end of the room. “I take it you are aware of what manner of place this is?”
The younger Scarlett folded her arms, her expression flattening as she also shifted her gaze to Arlene. “I fail to see the point of that question. I have little say in what we do here, anyhow.”
Scarlett’s eyes briefly returned to the girl. “What do you mean by that?”
Whether she was actually a younger version or an amalgamation of her past and present, it was clear she was far from ordinary. Anything she knew could be of importance.
“I mean what I said.” The younger Scarlett began tapping a finger against her arm. She was silent for a few seconds, gaze fixed on Arlene. “…I understand that woman was your teacher,” she said after a while.
“…Not this version of her,” Scarlett answered. “But an older one, yes.”
“I see,” the girl replied, her tone cool. “The exclusive tutelage of an arch mage, all to yourself. Few could boast of such a privilege.”
“…Perhaps. Given our limited aptitude, anything less would not have sufficed. It was necessary.”
The younger Scarlett’s eyes darkened slightly, and Scarlett could detect an undercurrent of bitterness crossing her face. She found herself somewhat regretting her words. Growing up knowing you were less than those around you—when you felt certain you should be more—couldn’t have been easy, even for someone as aloof as the original Scarlett. Being the descendant of a house renowned for its accomplished mages, yet having abilities that amounted to nothing more than a few basic skills and the [Third-rate Mana Veins] trait in the eyes of the system must have been a harsh reality. It wouldn’t be surprising if you developed a complex. Especially when the very sister you looked down upon so clearly outshone your own abilities.
While Scarlett didn’t know exactly what that had been like, she had lived with its echoes since taking on the role of this person. And now, knowing that she had essentially succeeded where the original had failed — what must this younger version think of her?
Scarlett was about to voice some of those questions when something caught her eye. A flicker of white. Her body stiffened as she turned sharply, her gaze snapping to the wall near the entrance. There, a thin, jagged rift had formed — a tear in the air itself, revealing an endless void of white beyond. It hung there, completely still, as if time itself had paused around it. Just looking at it sent a shiver down Scarlett’s spine.
How long had that been there? Had it only just appeared, or had she somehow missed it until now?
“Is there a reason to be so tense?” the younger Scarlett asked, looking at her.
Scarlett blinked, realising she had unconsciously summoned all her equipment, her stance instinctively preparing for combat. She glanced around the room. No one else seemed to have noticed her sudden reaction—
Arlene’s sharp gaze was locked on Scarlett, a furrow etched deep in her brow. Then, to Scarlett’s surprise, Arlene’s eyes drifted to the rift, her frown deepening.
Did she see it as well?
Scarlett watched as the woman turned back to Delmont, exchanging a few quiet words with him, then began making her way towards the tear in reality, moving through the room as the others continued their discussions.
Scarlett turned back to the girl beside her. “…Do you see it?”
The younger Scarlett’s attention moved to the rift. “I do. I am not blind.”
“No, but you are captious.” Scarlett shook her head. “Do you know what it is?”
“Do you?” the girl shot back, as though saying she wouldn’t if Scarlett didn’t.
Scarlett hesitated, her gaze returning to Arlene, who now stood only a few steps from the rift. Should she warn her?
“…There is much I still do not understand about its nature,” she said quietly, “but it is connected to something incredibly powerful — and dangerous.”
“Powerful, you say?” The younger Scarlett’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of interest and something darker. “…Then, have you tried to harness it?”
Scarlett turned back to her, her expression hardening.
…Of course that was the kind of thought the original Scarlett might have. Seek power wherever it could be found, no matter the cost. It wasn’t an impulse she had encountered much herself since assuming the remnants of Scarlett’s role, but she’d seen it reflected in the expectations and expressions of those around her.
“It is not something to be controlled,” Scarlett said firmly. “It is far better left alone.”
“Is that so?” The girl’s tone was almost mocking, but there was a faint curiosity beneath it. “Then should you really let her wander so close?”
Scarlett’s focus returned to Arlene, whose gaze lingered on the rift, or at the wall behind it. It was as though she wasn’t fully perceiving what she was looking at — or as if the rift existed just outside her perception.
Scarlett’s lips parted to speak, then closed.
“Ah, I see,” the younger Scarlett said, a note of realisation threading her voice. “You are using her to test it, are you not? She is merely a fragment of this Memory, after all — what becomes of her is inconsequential.”
Scarlett scowled, though her gaze remained locked on Arlene and the rift. “Your silence would be preferable at this moment,” she said in a clipped manner.
Arlene extended her hand, stopping just shy of the rift. Her fingers hovered there, suspended in hesitation, before she finally pulled back. Slowly, she turned, eyes landing squarely on Scarlett again.
“That is disappointing,” the younger Scarlett said. “After such an ominous prelude, I was curious to see what might unfold.”
Arlene began crossing the room, weaving through clusters of imperial officers and knights who gave her only brief, confused looks, the woman’s eyes never leaving Scarlett. Scarlett remained still, watching as Arlene approached with deliberate steps, eventually stopping directly in front of her, studying her with an intense and probing expression.
“Who are you two?” she demanded.
Scarlett’s eyes widened slightly as Arlene’s gaze shifted to the younger Scarlett for the briefest moment, sizing her up with a swift glance.
“Why did you bring a child here?” The woman’s voice tightened, her pale green eyes cutting into Scarlett once more. “Give me a name, or I will assume you have none to give.”
“Hartford?” came a gruff voice from the central table. The bald man with a beard, who had been speaking with the Imperial General, frowned in their direction. “What are you doing?”
Before Scarlett could respond, the younger Scarlett spoke up. “I am Scarlett, and she is my sister, Amy. Bernal.”
Scarlett’s head snapped towards her.
“Bernal?” Arlene’s own frown deepened, her gaze narrowing as if turning the name over in her mind. “…You shouldn’t be here,” she said at last, glancing towards the central table. “Mage-General, who allowed these two in?”
A ripple of unease swept through the room. Scarlett felt the weight of dozens of eyes suddenly land on her — officers, knights, mages, and the Imperial General himself, who straightened abruptly. “What—? Isn’t that…” His voice trailed off as his face stiffened. “Intruders?!”
Scarlett barely had a moment to react to the younger Scarlett’s words as the room erupted into chaos. Officers moved, knights reached for their weapons, and mages raised hands in preparation for casting spells. Yet even as Scarlett braced herself, she noticed how the figures of those furthest from her, including the Imperial General, suddenly began to blur, their forms growing hazy and indistinct.
The walls and furniture of the chamber began to change, fading into muted, swirling colors that twisted and morphed before her eyes. Scarlett immediately understood what was happening. They were transitioning into another Memory.
Why did this always seem to happen at a time like this? Was there some rule that she couldn’t manipulate the Memories too much? Or was something else at play?
She pushed the thought aside. That wasn’t what mattered right now. Even as Arlene’s form began to fade along with the rest of the room, Scarlett kept her attention on the younger version of herself, whose eyes were roaming the shifting scene with an enigmatic expression.
“How did you know that name?” Scarlett demanded.
“From you, naturally,” the girl replied dryly. She reached out an arm, brushing her fingers against the dissolving wall behind them as it fragmented into the faint landscape of a new Memory.
“I never mentioned it.”
“You did not need to.”
Scarlett scrutinised her with a restrained intensity. “…So you simply knew it because I did?”
“I believe that is what I have been trying to tell you for some time.” The girl gave her a pointed look. “Do you still not believe me?”
“No,” Scarlett said bluntly. “I do not.”
A small, sardonic smile formed on the younger Scarlett’s lips. “That is rather ironic.”
The world around them flickered. As the last remnants of the previous scene disintegrated, taking the white rift and all the people with it, new shapes began to coalesce around them. The acrid scent of smoke reached Scarlett, and she blinked as dark red shadows danced across the forming scene before her, like the flitting remnants of numerous fires.
What kind of Memory were they entering?
The younger Scarlett’s gaze dropped to the ground, and her nose wrinkled in clear disgust as the nebulous forms of corpses began to take shape, strewn haphazardly across dirt soaked in blood and ash. Some wore tattered dark clothing, while others were clad in dented armor, their weapons scattered around them. The outlines of a burning settlement sharpened in the near distance, half-collapsed buildings belching thick smoke, filling the air with the heavy stench of death.
The girl took a deliberate step back, her expression one of cold dislike. “No, I think not,” she said flatly, raising her eyes to Scarlett. “You will have to manage on your own here. I have no interest in lingering in a Memory like this.”
“Wait—” Scarlett started, but the younger version of herself was already gone, leaving Scarlett alone in the midst of the battlefield.
She stood still for a moment, staring at the empty space where the girl had been. Inwardly, she let out a long sigh, then turned her focus to her grim surroundings, her mind already calculating.
What was it this time, she wondered?
Comments
lenkite
Hope something happens soon. Random wandering through disparate scenes without learning or growing or explanation becomes rather old after a while.
Storyhunter
A poem about waling down memory lane with your younger self. I went through counseling where I was instructed to imagine my younger self sitting in a chair before me. Then tell my younger self all that it needed to hear. The poem is a little of that and a little of Scarlet speaking with her younger self.
Storyhunter
Me and mini me. Walked a memories lane. To see refracted memories mine. The ancestors divined a plane. Of memory where my little one could shine. Oh what I want to speak so plain. To the mini me, Memories lost to time. Stay with me oh mini me and plan. The time we have together fleeting. Bleeding through from memory's mine.
Martin
Younger Scarlett does not disappoint and makes this arc much more interesting! Adult Scarlett has in her person a worthy conversational opponent. I wonder if this new memory is the aftermath of the clash with the Tribe of Sin or even the place where Hartford parents died in ambush.
