Flashback Slices of Memory

[Gomer Caitiff]

Forty-second day of spring, 506 A.V.

With a heavy thud, Gomer's head bounced off of his desk, the dull pain of the impact hardly noticed in the face of his frustration. "I don't..." Another thud. "Understand..." A third, from which his head did not rebound. Instea, it remained where it was while he muttered into the careful diagram his father had made for him. "Anything."

There was a soft chuckle that drifted through Gomer's open door, followed by a curious set of blue eyes and a mischievous grin. "Having trouble, little brother?"

Face still planted on his desk, Gomer merely groaned in response, running his hands through his hair and ruffling the messy nest of hazelnut locks. Without invitation, and needing none, Godric stepped into the cluttered room they had shared for most of their lives, placing his hands on his smaller brother's shoulders, he gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Can I help?"

Mumbling into the paper, Gomer shrugged. "How'm I supposed t'know how you do the..." His mumbles became untelligible for a moment as he turned his head, resting his cheek against the desk and continuing to speak, only this time more clearly and to the left. "...'f I haven't even done the... learned the..." He groaned again, scrunching his eyes. "The... initiation."

"Are you nervous about it? It won't be for another..." Godric paused, leaning in close to the frustrated mess of arms and elbows that was Gomer. "How old are you again, little brother? Four? Five?"

With a roar, Gomer threw his back, little tears brimming at the corner of his eyes. "You know how old I am, Godric!"

Laughing Gomer's red-faced admonition away with the wave of his hand, he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? How old are you, then? Because you're acting like-"

"Nine!" Without letting Godric finish and not wanting to hear the familiar words repeated by everyone in the whole family coming out of Godric's mouth, Gomer furiously held up his fingers to further illustrate his age. Forgetting to raise one of them, he quickly did so, but not before Godric broke into a harder bought of laughing. Growling through his nose, Gomer slammed himself back into his chair, his small hands balled into fists and face red. "If you're just gonna laugh at me-"

"I'm sorry." The change from mirth to remorse was almost instant, but it was something Gomer was used to, having grown up with Godric's quick shifts in temperament. He sat down on Gomer's bed, all signs of his laughter replaced with brotherly concern in an almost impeccable mask - save the slight glimmer of light in his eyes that was reflected from where the sun shone through the room's only window. "You still have six years before anyone is going to initiate you into anything, little brother."

The calm, rational sound of Godric's voice was much like a cool rag applied to a sun burn, and Gomer let out a tired sigh, shaking his head. "That's... I'm not nervous about the... the initiation. I just don't see how I'm suppos'to understand any of this." He gestured dejectedly at the diagrams that had, in some places, been blurred by both spit and a couple errant tears that had managed to escape Gomer's ruddy eyes.

"Oh, are those..." Extending an expectant hand, the papers were passed and Godric stared down at them, nodding as if reading an old letter for the thousandth time. "What about them don't make sense?" His bright blue eyes gazed curiously, one of the only faces who didn't hold any sort of pity reserved for the never ending situations like this one when they arose.

"All of it." Still frustrated, but no longer to the point of yelling, Gomer threw up his hands in a small gesture, a universal display of surrender.

"Would you like to try something? It might help." There was a brief moment in which Godric's eyes glinted cold, like that of a predator's before the kill, but Gomer didn't take any notice of it, too preoccupied with his own troubles to think there might be another sitting right in front of him.

"Yes. Anything."

[Gomer Caitiff]

Nodding, Godric patted a spot on the bed next to him. Mostly rolling out of his chair, Gomer followed the quiet order, eyeing his brother curiously as Godric reached into his pocket and pulled out something long and thin, wrapped neatly in a cloth handerchief. "What's that?"

"This," Godric carefully removed a metal razor from its wrapping, "Is how you're going to remember all of that." He pointed knowingly at Rune's diagrams, smiling assuredly at Gomer's skeptical frown. "What?"

"Well..." The general unease he felt around anything that was considered dangerous a bit to ambiguous for him to describe, Gomer settled on a quiet, "N-nevermind."

Without wasting any more time, Godric held out his hand expectantly. With an apprehensive nod of his head, Gomer put his hand in his brother's, warily eying the razor. "Right, now, I want you to tell me the first rule of reattaching an astral limb." Seeing Gomer still focused on the razor, Godric let out an impatient breath through his nose. "Close your eyes." Reluctantly, Gomer did as he was told, his grip tightening some on his brother's hand, his stomach beginning to churn with little bubbles of fear. "Alright, now, what is the first rule?"

"Um... Make sure it's... turned the right way?"

"Oh." Whatever Godric had planned was postponed while he gathered his toughts, and Gomer tentatively peeked through his left eye. "No, keep them closed, just... this time I just want you to recite, 'First rule: tips to trunk.'" Gomer's uncertain expression, even with his eyes closed, elicited a gentle explanation from his brother. "It means, you should reattach the limb from the farthest part to the part closest to you."

"Oh, okay." Nodding with understanding, Gomer took a breath, "First rule-" He interrupted himself with a gasp as he felt the cool metal of the razor cut into the top of his middle finger on his left hand. It didn't hurt immediately, but the sensation was too alarming for him not to flinch away, at which point the cut was further exposed to the air and began to sting. "Ow!" His eyes opened and tears more of surprise than pain glimmered at their corners. "Why'd you do that?"

"Hand." Godric expectantly waited for Gomer to oblige, his face calm, though the hand that held the razor shook just slightly. "You said anything, and you haven't even given it a chance."

"...fine." With much more reluctance that the first time, Gomer gingerly placed his hand on top of Godric's. "But can you please explain what we're doing?"

"Better, I can show you." Godric grinned reassuringly, "Close your eyes."

"...You're not gonna cut me again, are you?"

"Well, I am, but... not this time. Just close them. Trust me."

"...okay. I trust you."

"Now," Godric made a threatening jab with his razor at Gomer's face to check if he had followed his directions, and when the younger brother didn't flinch, Godric's lips turned a pleased grin before he cleared his throat. "What's the first rule of reattaching an astral limb?"

"What? Oh... um... it's... tips and... toes?" Immediately, the dull sting of the cut on his finger flared as Godric pressed his thumb into it. "Ow, ow, ow!" Trying to pull his hand away but finding it stuck in Godric's grip, Gomer slapped ineffectively at him. "S-stop it! Let go!"

"What's the first rule of-"

"I don't know, you're hurting me!"

"What's the first-"

"T- I don't... T-tips to trunk! First rule: tips to t-trunk!" As quickly as the pressure had been applied, it was gone, leaving Gomer's finger still painfully throbbing but gasping at the relief of having the cut no longer squeezed.

"Right!" With a happy, triumphant grin, Godric nodded. "See?"

Finally free to pull his hand away and gingerly nurse his bloodied finger, Gomer scowled. "See what."

"You remembered."

"What-" Ready to launch into a storm of complaints, Gomer caught himself, realizing what it was Godric actually said. "I... did." Blinking back his tears with a growing sense of accomplishment, he looked down at the bleeding cut, hesitating just a tick before squeezing the finger himself. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, "First rule... tips to trunk."

"Wait." There was a slight urgency to Godric's tone, something like a mix of desperation and anger. Having never really heard Godric sound like that before, Gomer froze, eyes wide. "S-sorry, it's just that, I think it'll work better if... if I do it. And you have your eyes closed. That way... that way you can focus better. Uncle Frode says you focus best when you can block out the stuff that doesn't matter." He spoke quickly, his face sliding back into the warm, familiar smile of an older brother looking out for his younger sibling.

"Oh... okay. That makes sense." Placing his hand in his brother's once more, Gomer glanced down at the quilt on his bed, grimacing at the small dots of crimson that had already begun to turn to a dull rust. "Mother's not going to like that..."

Mirroring Gomer's expression, Godric nodded, pulling him gently by the hand. "Maybe we should do this on the floor..."

[Gomer Caitiff]

The two boys kicked at the rug, knocking up a fair amount of dust, but eventually it folded on itself, revealing the wooden flooring below: a perfect place to conceal any further spatterings or splatterings from the wrathful, cleaning force that was their mother. Situating themselves across from one another, Godric held out his hand and, with far less apprehension, Gomer set his hand on Godric's. The cut still throbbed with a dulled sting, but Gomer felt confident he could remember the simple phrase. If he could remember, there wouldn't be any need to worry, or so he believed.

"Both hands this time." When Gomer obliged,holding out his other had in front of him like a game of red hands, Godric nodded, pleased with his brother's obedience. "Okay. Second rule."

"...second rule? I thought-"

"Well, yes. If you only learn one thing a day, this will take... all of your six years, just for this diagram." Godric's voice was steady and rational, though there was a hint of warmth in the manner in which he chuckled at Gomer's confusion.

"Oh, I... I guess that makes sense."

"Mhm. Now, second rule: 'Slow but steady.'" With Gomer's eyes closed, there wasn't much indication whether he understood the rule or not, so Godric clarified. "Because if you go too fast, you could make a mistake, but if you go too slow, you'll waste half of your day just staring at yourself."

Nodding, Gomer muttered the phrase quietly under his breath. "Slow but steady, slow but steady, slow but..."

"Alright. Now. Second rule."

"Second rule-" Again, he felt the cool metal of the knife slide into his hand, this time his ring finger on his right hand, and while it stuck slightly in its initial cut, it moved smoothly, without causing much pain. He could feel the skin of his finger split apart, finding it hard to focus on anything else surrounded by darkness and the relative silence of the room. "...slow but... steady."

"Good. First rule."

"First rule: tips to toes." Realizing his mistake even as he said it, Gomer grit his teeth at the sudden flash of pain that spread out from the cut on his hand; it took everything he had not to try to wrench his hand away, though the knowledge that he wouldn't have been able to even had he tried helped him endure. Holding back tears, he sucked in a breath through his nose and hissed, "First rule: tips to trunk." The pressure receeded, though much of the pain remained.

"First rule."

"First rule: tips to trunk."

"First rule. Again."

"First rule," Gomer sniffed, the pain in his finger forcing his nose to run a little in protest. "Tips to trunk."

"Second rule."

Prepared for the first, not the second, Gomer scrambled through his thoughts, the anticipation of the pain to come causing everything to jumble together into a mess. "S-sleddy! Stow!" He gasped as his right hand quivered in sharp pain as Godric pressed his thumb into Gomer's cut. "S-uh... I- don't..."

"Second rule, little brother." His voice was incredibly soft, almost giddy, but the specifics of the quality escaped Gomer in his panic to find the right answer, the pressure growing greater with each passing moment.

"S-second rule: s... slow! S-slow and..." Grinding his teeth, Gomer's face scrunched in frantic thought. "St-steady! Slow and steady!" The release of pressure was like a cool breeze, and Gomer slumped forward, panting and sweating, eyes still obediently shut, but tears now clearly staining his cheeks.

"Good! See? It's working." There was a coercive lilt to Godric's voice, leaving little room for disagreement. Though his fingers still stung, Gomer nodded in agreement, sniffling back his rising desire to start crying straight out. "Alright. We'll do a few more of these basic phrases, then we'll work our way into more detail." He spoke more to himself than his brother, but Gomer nodded along nonetheless.

"Um... Godric?"

"Hm?" There was a hint of annoyance in his voice as he paused in his musings to listen to the snotty mess who's bloodied hands were gingerly held out in front of him. "What is it, little brother?"

"Th-thank you. For helping me." Pitiful though it sounded with his wavering voice and subsequent sniffle, Gomer meant what he said. His lips turned up in a brave, grateful smile. "It... really hurts but... It's helping. You're helping."

With his eyes closed, Gomer didn't notice the strange, hollow glint of Godric's sneer as he leered down the snot and blood and gratitude. Turning the razor over in his hand several times as he regarded his smaller sibling, Godric's expression slowly faded, replaced by a warm caring smile that carried over into his soothing voice. "We'll get you to remember everything, even if it means a thousand cuts. I promise, Go."

Gomer couldn't help flinching at the thought of quite so many painful incisions, but he nodded weakly. Even if it hurt, he was glad to have Godric there; after all, it seemed to him that Godric was the only one that seemed to think he had a chance. His mother and father wanted him to do well, certainly, but they were so focused on Godric and his natural talent that Gomer was often left behind. Godric was there for him - had always been there for him -, and he had no intention of letting him down. "...okay. I-I'm ready." He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing himself to sit properly, rather than hunched over like a beggar. "What's the third r-rule?"

[Gomer Caitiff]

Time seemed to pass at an excruciatingly slow pace, made all the slower by mistakes as Gomer began to grow more and more fatigued. The pain was bad enough, but the constant tensing and relaxing of his body coupled with his incessant battle of forcing himself to answer when all he really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry had begun to take their toll. Gasping for breath, he rasped out, "Third rule: if you can t-touch ghosts, they can t-touch you."

"Good, first rule of reattachment."

"T-tips befo-" Sharp pain shot out from his battered finger, and Gomer involuntary choked on his own words for a moment. "F-first rule of reattachment: g-go f-from the..." The pressure increased, and Gomer held back a sob, his head hung forward and shoulders rising and falling with the effort of his breaths. "S-start from t-the... ex-exter... extremities and w-work your w-way towards your ch-chest-"

The instant his finger was released, Gomer crumbled, jaw clenched but tears falling nonetheless. "I think that's probably enough for today, little brother." Godric's almost business-like tone helped to calm him some, and Gomer made a jerky nod with his head. "Let's get you cleaned up. Mother will be livid if she sees all this blood."

Though Godric had kept his incisions small, Gomer had still bled a fair amount over the course of their "study session". The wood was splattered with varying sizes of drips and drops. Though Godric had been careful to keep the blood from getting on his clothes, his own hands were as sticky with Gomer's blood as his younger brother's.

Finally free of both quizzes and punishment of ignorance in the form of pain, Gomer rolled over onto his back, groaning and coughing out a couple dry sobs. He didn't get to relax for long, as Godric quickly grabbed his brother's wrist and forced him to roll back into a fetal position. "Don't stain your shirt, Go!" There was a sort of franticness in his voice that, even in his pain, put a brief stop to Gomer's sputtering as his eyes widened in uncertain fear. "Mother... Mother would be upset."

Too tired to do anything but weakly agree, Gomer gingerly used the heels of his palms to push himself up to his knees. From there, he wobbled to his feet, keeping his hands extended so as not to stain his clothing. In his tear blurred vision he could see some of the blood had gotten onto his pants, but Godric, who stood looking him over for a half chime didn't say anything about it.

Quietly - or as quietly as the sniffling Gomer could manage - they poured out what water was left in the pitcher they had used that morning to wash their faces into the stone basin beside it. Gently, Godric took Gomer's hands in his and gradually dipped them into the cool water. Gomer let out a wincing sigh, as the relief from the water's cool temperature clashed with the sting of his open cuts being rinsed.

"This is going to hurt a little more, but after I'll fetch some bandages and... some of that.. chewy goo you like."

With a sniffle, Gomer corrected him with a haggard but excited grin, little sparks of hope glimmering in his eyes. "M-marzipan!"

"Right. Okay, you're going to have to be quiet so... bite hard." Gomer did as he was warned, the muscles of his jaw first twitching then bulging as he whimpered beneath the quick but painful ministrations of his brother's scrubbing. When it was finally over, and he was allowed time to sit and rest, his wet hands still held out and away from the rest of him. Gomer filled his thoughts with that of marzipan, the almondy sweet his mother had bought one time on mistake that he'd immediately fallen in love with. The memory of it was still clear in his mind, and it helped to take his thoughts off of the now steady throb of pain that coincided with the tired beat of his heart.

When Godric returned with a small square of marzipan held carefully between his fingers, Gomer almost burst into tears. Instead, he nibbled at the corner of the little block, sniffling, as he extended his free hand towards Godric to bandage.

"If you start bleeding again, make sure it doesn't get on your shirt." He spoke with the authority of an older sibling, something that Gomer rarely, if ever, contested. Nodding he focused his eyes on the slender, red slices of raw flesh, finding it difficult to locate all of them now that they were no longer crimson in color. "There. Next one."

Carefully switching his candy from one hand to the other, he extended his unbandaged left to Godric, wincing a bit as the bandages were pulled tight and tied off. "Godric..."

"Mm?"

"Do you want some?" He extended the half eaten marzipan, his tear swollen eyes and ruddy face turned bright in an inviting smile.

"No, not this time. That's all for you, Go." Godric carefully wrapped the razor back in its cloth, and Gomer happily finished the rest of the candy. "So, what's the first rule of detaching an astral limb?"

"First rule: unravel outward. Start from," He sniffed, continuing along without really thinking about what he was saying, though his left pinky felt a bit more sore in the moment. "From the part closest to you and work your way outward." Folding his arms across his chest, Godric's lips turned into a cheeky grin. After a tick, Gomer mirrored his brother's expression, gesturing to his pinky with a wave of his bandage hand. "And it was this finger!"

"By the time we're done, you'll be able to match it to the cut, I bet." There was pride in Godric's voice; pride that Gomer imagined directed at him, and he felt his chest warm. It wasn't often anyone thought him more than a bundle of mistakes, and to see his brother's grinning face at what he thought was his surprising accomplishment, he let out a cheery laugh.

It wasn't hearty by any means, his jaw was sore, his hands throbbed, and his eyes were itchy, but he was still more pleased with himself than he had been in a long time. "Then that's what I'll do."

"What we'll do." The insistence in Godric's voice was mistaken for care, and Gomer nodded happily.

"What we'll do."