thesphererp | 002 - Memory Share

The scene that began to play was an innocent one.

A family sat around a small table in a small one room apartment. They aren't rich by any standards but they were happy. Two children sat at the table, twins, laughing and eating as they told their mother and father the story of their adventures that day. The boys arms were up in the air as if to indicate that it was 'this big!' while the young girl giggled at the exaggeration.

The point of view flickers between the girl and the boy as if unable to make up its mind on who to watch. Static echoes gently as a soft whistling sound begins to rise above the laughter.

That's when the first shell hits.

A loud bang reverberates through the building as the floor beneath their table quickly cracks. Screams could be heard as the table tilts, the floor quickly falling, disappearing in a cloud of rumble. The scene is now from the little girl's point of view. She's reaching out towards her mother and screaming, nearly falling into the large whole in the floor in the process. There is a hard tug on her waist as her brother picks her up but she doesn’t notice. She just watches as her parents disappear into the hole.

The view point switches again, now looking out from the boys eyes as he rolls him and his sister beneath the bed. The entire building is coming apart and you can feel it beneath your palms and knees, hear your sister's cries, "MAMA! PAPA!" You hold her tight and hold back the tears stinging your eyes. For a half second the echoes of the falling building seem to settle. You wonder if it's over. If your parents are somehow alive.

That's when the second shell hits.

It slides through their home and stops three feet from their faces. The crying has stopped but voices rise in the distance as people begin to search for those who haven’t died. The bed is covered in debris. There is no way out and the air is choked with dust.

You both lay there. Ten years old. Reading the one name that haunts your nightmares for years to come, 'STARK' painted in large letters on the side of the shell. You both call out and there is a rise of voices speaking in another language trying to find you. The rumble shifts and the little girl curls beneath her brother's arm as the shell remains in view. Another shift of rumble and another. Each one sending trickles of dust and cinder down on top of you.

You know that it will take time to clear away the rumble and at any moment the shell can go off.

The views switch again and you hear your brother's voice speak gently in your ear. The words are in another language but the meaning is clear. "I'm here."

Threaded | Flat

[Somehow never occurred to him that he might end up briefly in the memories of his not-mother and not-uncle. But here he is anyway, shaking after experiencing it. It's not real, he didn't experience it, but damn if he hadn't wanted to be there to take them both away from that.]

You know, in your position, I probably wouldn't have rested until Stark was dead. I get it. I...

I wish I could take this away. Give you a life that had been happier. Hell, even tell you that you had happier back home. But it's a lie. I don't think the universe likes Maximoffs very much.

So, uh... yeah. I'm just going to buy some beers or whatever. You know. For having. For you guys. Yeah.

[ The method of warfare is far beyond anything Laica has ever experienced. But the results are the same. War never changes. ]

It's hard, isn't it? Losing not just your family but your home all of a sudden like that. I suppose this is the worst sort of club to be in.

[it’s a horrible memory. he can guess it’s wanda’s without the comments to it - she told him about losing her parents at age ten, that she had a brother. the children in the memory are about the right age, their accents are about the same. he didn’t know they were bombed, and that makes him angry in ways he can’t put into words. he’s only ever lived through metaphorical wars - against crime, against the world at large, against himself - but surviving the kind of war depicted in the memory is something else entirely.

he doesn’t know what to say that could offer even a shred of comfort, so he says nothing. not because he doesn’t care - because he cares too much.

and he’s still thinking about what he’s seen when he finds himself in the same bar as wanda at the same time. he’s not as bloodied and bruised as he was in his most recent memory, and he’s not wearing his battle armor, but wanda should still be able to recognize him.]

Some loses you never forget, huh? [ Well, at least she gets a part of it now. There's an intense amount of sympathy in her voice. They were so young for something so big to happen to them. ] It's a shame people choose to fight with such cowardly weapons. [ That was something about humans she was never going to get. ] You were both very brave through that.

I'm sorry for your loss.

Private to Wanda and Pietro - UN: Minimoff

UN: Hawke

action.

audio UN: Nemesis

no subject