IC inbox

[traitorously]

"Hi, It's Catty! If you're listening to this, I didn't give you a fake number! Leave a message, and I'll get back to you when I can."

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private;

[traitorously]

[Her eyebrows twitch together slightly, but it's more out of concern than anything else. Her voice is notably softer when she speaks again] Why?

private;

[depicted]

[And Dorian laughs. The sound is strangely sincere, oddly delicate, as young as his face if not his soul.] Because I want to live. And the way things are heading, I won't be able to, if I can't forget at least a little of what's in my head.

I don't forget anything, Catty. Not a second of my life. It would drive anyone mad, and it has done its worst on me.

private;

[traitorously]

You don't--? [Wow, okay. And he hasn't exactly been subtle about the whole immortality thing. Catty hesitates for a moment, picking her words]

Okay. But you have to let me let you remember that I took them, and why. Trust me when I say that's information you're going to want to have. And I won't destroy them either, you have to let me keep them in case you ever want them back. I won't look or anything, not more than I have to in order to get them out

private;

[depicted]

[It's sweet, to him, the way she does this. That's why his expression is so fond. But the conditions don't really matter all that much. It is just a question of getting everything out.]

I appreciate the care you're taking in this. I don't mind remembering why I'm forgetting—it's for the best that I do, I know. And . . . thank you, for keeping them for me. It's sweet.

[She is being much, much more thoughtful than she strictly needs to be, really. Catty is a good girl.]

private;

[traitorously]

[That fondness in his expression makes her feel a little squishy inside, because Catty will take what warmth she can get from people these days.

It makes her a little more inclined to be open, right now] I don't have any memories from before I was six. So it's just - experience talking, I guess. I wouldn't want you to go through that. [A simple shrug, although she turns a litle red. Controlling her emotions all the time is exhausting] You're my friend. And I don't like destroying things when I don't have to.

private;

[depicted]

[She is a better person than she gives herself credit for, Dorian thinks—kinder, sweeter, more sensitive. More easily injured, perhaps, but such things are neither for Dorian to declare nor test. He has no wish to.] It is a good philosophy to follow.

Is there a time or place I ought to meet you? [He half-smiles.] Under the light of the full moon, where three roads meet, perhaps?

private;

[traitorously]

[She snorts] Actually, we are more powerful under the full moon, but this isn't that kind of power. [It's the antithesis, actually, but she's not going to mention that the source of this particular ability is the root of all evil]

My suite is fine! Whenever you're ready, it won't take too long.

private;

[depicted]

[Unaware, he gives her one more pretty, reassuring smile. Grateful, kind—something to let her know how much this means to him. How much he appreciates her.] Give me an hour and I'll be there.

private;

[traitorously]

No problem! I'll be here, don't worry about knocking or anything.