The methodical nature of Chell's thoughts brought to mind the visions he'd seen from Sun and Moon's perspective. It was hardly identical, of course, but something about the methodical nature of it, each thought a distinct piece of information laid out neatly like... well like a tree's growth rings struck him as more similar to the information that had scrolled by from the mammet's point of view. As opposed to his own thoughts, which were much more disorganized, flowing from one to the next almost unbidden, which was partly how he'd pulled so much memory of edible flora together so quickly.
As he examined the faint and faded memory of Chell's- from how log ago, there was no way to tell, but far longer than what he would consider a normal lifetime-, it brought back memories of his own, not nearly so distant as Chell's but still faint and faded with time. The enticing and faintly nutty smell of baking bread filling the kitchen of a little stone cottage as a tall, slim woman stirred a pot on the nearby stove. Her skin and hair were the same colors as his, though her hair was significantly longer and sleeker, woven into a single braid that reached to the middle of her back. My mother, Capucine, he instantly identified her.
More memories of her followed, all warm and affectionate, but tinged with sorrow. Her looking up from working in her little garden outside the cottage, dappled sunlight dancing over her as her face broke into a bright smile that lit up her gold eyes. Her working at the cottage's kitchen table laden with various dried herbs and fruits, glancing at a recipe book before adding a few herbs to a mortar for grinding. Her kneeling in prayer before a delicately carved wooden figurine of a beautiful woman. The goddess Nophica, The Matron, another instant identification.
His mother had been very devout, he recalled, her faith giving her joy in the good times, comfort in the bad ones. He wondered if she'd turned to the Matron as Dalamud had burned red in the sky, growing larger and more baleful by the day? A brief image of a sky with two moons, one much like the one Chell would know, and the other smaller, but glowing an ominous red... And before he can turn from it, the fleeting image of a dragon. No, not a dragon, but an avatar of pure rage in the form of one. Enormous and black, raining fire and death. Bahamut. The Dreadwyrm. The Twelveswood left burning in its wake, and in the wake of the fire...
A pile of charred rubble where once had stood a little stone cottage. A few pieces still smoldering. The air acrid with the smell of burning, of charred wood and stone and flesh... And heavy with loss and despair.
A wince that Chell would both see and feel as Foulques ruthlessly shoved the memory away. "Apologies," he said aloud. "I hadn't meant for my mind to stray to thoughts of the Calamity, but I doubt any who lived in Eorzea then could truly separate the memory of their loved ones from how they were lost."
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As he examined the faint and faded memory of Chell's- from how log ago, there was no way to tell, but far longer than what he would consider a normal lifetime-, it brought back memories of his own, not nearly so distant as Chell's but still faint and faded with time. The enticing and faintly nutty smell of baking bread filling the kitchen of a little stone cottage as a tall, slim woman stirred a pot on the nearby stove. Her skin and hair were the same colors as his, though her hair was significantly longer and sleeker, woven into a single braid that reached to the middle of her back. My mother, Capucine, he instantly identified her.
More memories of her followed, all warm and affectionate, but tinged with sorrow. Her looking up from working in her little garden outside the cottage, dappled sunlight dancing over her as her face broke into a bright smile that lit up her gold eyes. Her working at the cottage's kitchen table laden with various dried herbs and fruits, glancing at a recipe book before adding a few herbs to a mortar for grinding. Her kneeling in prayer before a delicately carved wooden figurine of a beautiful woman. The goddess Nophica, The Matron, another instant identification.
His mother had been very devout, he recalled, her faith giving her joy in the good times, comfort in the bad ones. He wondered if she'd turned to the Matron as Dalamud had burned red in the sky, growing larger and more baleful by the day? A brief image of a sky with two moons, one much like the one Chell would know, and the other smaller, but glowing an ominous red... And before he can turn from it, the fleeting image of a dragon. No, not a dragon, but an avatar of pure rage in the form of one. Enormous and black, raining fire and death. Bahamut. The Dreadwyrm. The Twelveswood left burning in its wake, and in the wake of the fire...
A pile of charred rubble where once had stood a little stone cottage. A few pieces still smoldering. The air acrid with the smell of burning, of charred wood and stone and flesh... And heavy with loss and despair.
A wince that Chell would both see and feel as Foulques ruthlessly shoved the memory away. "Apologies," he said aloud. "I hadn't meant for my mind to stray to thoughts of the Calamity, but I doubt any who lived in Eorzea then could truly separate the memory of their loved ones from how they were lost."