[ It loops? That's concerning, but it would explain the second set of memories that overlay those he knows to be true. The more he thinks on it, he's certain that they knew each other very well. He knows where scars might be if he were to peak under his clothes, how cool his skin is, and what a troubled individual he is. It's obvious just by looking at him now though, the empty eyes and false smile that he senses rarely falters for long.
It would explain it, and should that be the case then he has no place acting so familiar with him. He remembers himself after but a moment. He unconsciously places his hand over his heart as he watches the other. It must be from watching his discomfort, but there's an uncomfortable ache, as though somebody were pinching the organ inside. It's rather bothersome, so he tries not to pay so much mind to it. ]
I see... The school erases your memories once its cycle has completed then? It seems wasteful to lose progress so often.
[ As one who works with memories, it's more unsettling than he lets on, and his fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt briefly as a sudden sense of unease strikes him. He should know this person, however little right he has to be overly friendly with him, and that means he should be able to understand him. The idea of starting from scratch, of his mind being tampered with, is impossibly frustrating.
The polite smile never falters. ]
As for my favorite book, I have too many to count! But I must admit that I'm partial to Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves. It's a story that's dear to me... I'm rather fond of Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None as well.
[ If preferences were to speak of a person, then his choices would paint the picture of a rather troubled man. One is a labyrinth in and of itself, a web connected together by countless threads of perspectives and hidden messages, stories within stories and shifting perspectives. It's about the Minotaur and repressed feelings, of love lost and the attempts to revive it, and of the feelings of guilt and obsession that corrode the mind and body of those who are trapped in the past. There is a happy ending only for those who exist, while the most the living can do is pretend. What a mess of a life it is.
The latter is a fair bit simpler, but nonetheless significant in plucking lives off like flowers on a petal, one by one, as the culprit picks away at the villains in the story one by one. The culprit is a judge and arbiter who brings his gavel down on those who were never punished in life, a proud and righteous man who rids the world of scum by offering them symbolic deaths.
His smile falters for the first time as he finds himself unable to pull his eyes away from Komaeda's scratching. ]
KOMAEDA IS ALWAYS HIS FAVORITE he dethroned sara, she's boring when she's not being a villain
It would explain it, and should that be the case then he has no place acting so familiar with him. He remembers himself after but a moment. He unconsciously places his hand over his heart as he watches the other. It must be from watching his discomfort, but there's an uncomfortable ache, as though somebody were pinching the organ inside. It's rather bothersome, so he tries not to pay so much mind to it. ]
I see... The school erases your memories once its cycle has completed then? It seems wasteful to lose progress so often.
[ As one who works with memories, it's more unsettling than he lets on, and his fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt briefly as a sudden sense of unease strikes him. He should know this person, however little right he has to be overly friendly with him, and that means he should be able to understand him. The idea of starting from scratch, of his mind being tampered with, is impossibly frustrating.
The polite smile never falters. ]
As for my favorite book, I have too many to count! But I must admit that I'm partial to Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves. It's a story that's dear to me... I'm rather fond of Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None as well.
[ If preferences were to speak of a person, then his choices would paint the picture of a rather troubled man. One is a labyrinth in and of itself, a web connected together by countless threads of perspectives and hidden messages, stories within stories and shifting perspectives. It's about the Minotaur and repressed feelings, of love lost and the attempts to revive it, and of the feelings of guilt and obsession that corrode the mind and body of those who are trapped in the past. There is a happy ending only for those who exist, while the most the living can do is pretend. What a mess of a life it is.
The latter is a fair bit simpler, but nonetheless significant in plucking lives off like flowers on a petal, one by one, as the culprit picks away at the villains in the story one by one. The culprit is a judge and arbiter who brings his gavel down on those who were never punished in life, a proud and righteous man who rids the world of scum by offering them symbolic deaths.
His smile falters for the first time as he finds himself unable to pull his eyes away from Komaeda's scratching. ]
Are you alright, Komaeda-kun?