@all | before the event

[industries]

> ts@abraxas-proxy:~$ wall "People's memories of this place"

[ Anyone unfamiliar with computer terminals might be taken aback at the mechanical font that scrolls across their vision, though the jumps and starts in typing speed leave no doubt that a very human brain is behind the text. ]

> Broadcast message from ts@abraxas-proxy (tty/1) :
> People's memories of this place
>
> Don't normally crowdsource, but
> has anyone out there ever heard of someone who got home and actually
> remembered their days here at the renfaire?
>
> Not looking for peer-reviewed analysis.
> I'll take crumbs
> or
> whatever else we've got here on Mind-Reddit.

Comments

[gynvael]

[ There's a length of time before his reply, but when it comes it flows all at once, like he's picked every word carefully. ]

When I experienced the same,
I too gained memories of a daughter.
One who's also been with me in this world since the beginning,
From several years ahead of my time. Who never left.

More than you know, I wish this notion proven horseshit
Else it would mean a deviation exists where...
I failed to be there to protect her.

But I'm no longer certain of what's true.

[industries]

[ Where there had been a frenetic cascade of thoughts and syntax, the line now goes silent. When the facsimile of typed text starts, it's much slower than before. ]

>
> I'm sorry.
>
>
> Listen, there's a million permutations of what could be happening here.
> Temporally, dimensionally.
> If I've learned anything the last few days, it's that no matter how much you think you've figured it out, the universe
>
> it
> can still manage to surprise you.
> Kick your ass in ways you never even considered.
>
>
> Your daughter's here?

[gynvael]

Perhaps it makes little difference in the end.
What we have is what we have.

Yes. I was taken before our paths crossed.
Our memories align now to a point.
But for a time it was
...Complicated.

These questions you have—
This is about yours?

[industries]

[ What we have is what we have.

That's it, isn't it? The whole problem. The truth. That maybe Tony was never going home, it's just that now he has to face it. ]

> Yeah.
> I already left a message, just in case I
>
> but it'd be nice to tell them I'm okay, somewhere.
> That I'm thinking of them.
>
> She just turned four, so
> odds are she won't remember much of me.

[ It knocks the breath out of him. Twists his stomach into knots, the despair of it. The cruelty. That what happened to him, to his family, was the result of an equation, an infinite sea of probabilities engineered down to one. It was necessary. It was unavoidable. It was everything he ever wanted, to give his all for those he loved.

Maybe that's why it hurts so much. ]

>
> Your kid.
> What's her name?

[gynvael]

[ It's strange, how he's never thought of it. The possibility of a message passed through. Perhaps that's because it wasn't Ciri who he left behind. A family, yes, but. One set to lose him at some point, anyhow, to parts unknown. The other Witchers don't need him, though he knows they will miss him. ]

As you say.
The universe may surprise.

[ As for the girl—Tony might've spotted her about. ]

Ciri. Ashen hair, green eyes. Scar.
Not quite a child anymore.

[industries]

[ Yeah – pretty unique description, even amongst the disproportional number of weirdos in this place. Tony's pretty sure he's seen her in and around Mag's Inn, though aside from the general sword-toting getup, he'd never made the connection with her and Geralt.

Especially given the apparent lack of age difference. Not quite a child anymore. ]

> Did you get to see her grow up?

[gynvael]

Not enough.

I've chosen not to ask about the years between us.
Seems ill-advised.

[industries]

> Yeah. I feel you.
>
> Hey, so
> if you ever want to stop by the tower in the Horizon with the big "A" on it,
> I'm down to crack open an aged bottle of mind-projected scotch.
> Just saying.