#<- Imma call this mini series of random memories I let Heart half remember this

[randaccidents]

Lost Memory-Dream #00

One of many half-remembered dreams of memories that Heart has. This one might be his oldest memory ever.

(Hi! First Tangled Wisteria fic :3. Doing a small set of random memories half remembered in dreams. And a little hint to how Heart might see the world now, freshly amnesiatic.)

(ALSO this fic is unfortunately not reader tool friendly, because I'm trying to give the feeling of words being roughly scratched out of memory. I AM going to include a translated transcript in a reblog though, so look out for that if you're wondering what they are saying!)

(also I went crazy in my tags whoops)

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He is standing in a space of white and grey and black. Standing in the white and in the grey are two cut-out figures, the same color as the space they stood in, yet clearly separate from the background. He himself stood in the black.

["W██ ███ █ou ███?"] He furrowed his eyebrows. The voice is blotted out and fuzzed, he couldn't clearly make out what it was saying. He tried to open his mouth, but found that he couldn't. Hm. Something told him that it was simply not his turn to speak yet.

{"███ am I? I ███ld ███ y██ ███ █ame."} This voice was the same, static-filled and words missing his ears entirely. He knew it was not meant to be that way, but he didn't know what should fill the gap. He felt the figures turn towards him, and his mouth opened on instinct.

("Don't look at me? I don't know who either of you are!") He is confused. He could tell he is dreaming, but where is this? What is this? At least this dream-him has the same thoughts that he does.

{"I ██ow ███ I ██. I'm ██e ████."} The cut out of grey had moved, a hand on its presumed chin. He tilted his head, examining the cut-out and finding nothing he could use to identify it. Who was that?

["██gi███ly, ██ ██ ████ to ██████ es█████sh██ na████ con███ti██, ██ ██████ ████ ro███ ███ na███."] There's a deepness to the few letters that ungarble themselves from the white cut-outs words. It almost sounds.... familiar?

Familiar. Nothing about this dream has felt familiar, yet he knows it is a memory. Why is his memory made of static and cut-out figures? He can't find it in himself to worry too much about it, the roots of panic strangled at the source. There is a sweet scent in the air.

His mouth moves again. ("Roles as names you say? Well wouldn't that make you the ████, since you're so logical?") It was disconcerting, hearing his own voice briefly turn to static. There was something important there. What was it?

Words were being spoken at him. The sweet scent from earlier was building. He strained to listen. ["██ ██at ██? ████ you ████ ██ █he-"]

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He shot up in bed, mouth forming around a name quickly lost to pruned branches and faded flowers. Furrowing eyebrows under the blindfold that had been given to him, he tests out the shape of his mouth.

The letter H. He tests the letter on his tongue, finding it familiar. Still mouthing the letter, he brings hands up to brush through tangled wisteria vines and feathers alike, calming himself on the sweet scent of the flowers.

That was a memory of his name. He is certain of it. But what name starts with the letter H? And what he said in the dream, roles as names. None of it made sense to him. The bright cut-outs in his memory gave no hints either, pruned and cut out and distorted out of meaning.

What was his name? He squinted eyes he had learnt were sensitive to light down at his hands. Purple had named himself. And now a forgotten memory told him he was named by someone he could not remember.

["Purple? Are you awake? It's late morning already."] Jumping at the deep voice, Purple looked up, tossing a grin at the shadow in his doorway.

("I'm alright Blue, just thinking. Remembering? Dreaming. I'll be out in a second!") He stretches, standing up and missing Blue's reaction to his words. ("I had the weirdest dream last night.")

["Is that so. Care to share?"] Blue has a weird way of being curious. Purple is still getting used to it. He shrugs it off anyways, both Red and Blue were still just strangers with some familiar habits anyways. It's probably normal to be awkward.

("I dreamt that...") The words trail off into burnt ashes that fall from his mouth. His face scrunches up as he tries to remember the memory. Only one thing stands out to him, caught between his teeth. ("...I forgot. All I remember is the letter H.")

A cold, metallic hand gently rests itself on his shoulder, urging him forwards. ["Maybe it will return to you later. Come, breakfast is waiting."]

Perking up at the thought of breakfast, Purple nodded his head, following Blue's lead, the scent of wisterias trailing behind him as he forgot his dream in favor of breakfast. The letter H remains, lodged in the breath between his tongue and palate.