as a storm passes by…

Dear notebook and Argentina, please forgive me, but Samhain always found peace in the rain in some unlit corner of her brain. Rain swoops over all the corners and cracks in the roof in the little cabin in the loop of time we called Up North, and rain cleanses everything it touches and destroys what it cannot… and for my survival and yours, I must choose to let Anders’ rain pour over me and sweep away the memories you tried so hard to convince me to keep for our sake. A week ago, I overheard him discussing a plan with his manservant Giles a plan to peacefully return you to your home and your previous life in the state that you were in before your girlfriend- whose memories I am purging tomorrow from my brain- so painfully came to grips with her impending mortality. To me, at least, it seems more sensible to remove all the damage that has been foisted upon you in this place and restore you to your former haute couture self (which was far more glorious and worthy of respect, to be honest) than to continue placing your life in mine and Anders’ hands. Again, please forgive me-

“Miranda, love, do you actually plan on giving that notebook to Argentina?” Anders whispered to the figure perched in front of the fireplace with pen in hand and notebook in lap. “I know it’s halfway full, but reminding her of what she’s about to lose and has already lost kind of defeats the purpose of erasing her memory.”

Miranda slowly snuck a glance at Anders, who had forgone a nightshirt and was standing behind his usual armchair with his hands crossed against his hips. Adjusting the blanket he’d draped around himself, Miranda answered, “She told me to write all of this down. I’m not doing it to be nice. Why? Are you going to destroy it?”

Anders laid a hand on Miranda’s shoulder, desperately trying not to tighten it and come off as threatening. “Well, I’m certainly not going to give it to her. It’ll probably just end up in a forgotten box in somebody’s attic, and then when it does get discovered, it’ll be too late to do any damage.”

Miranda discarded the blanket onto the floor and closed the notebook, laying it and the pen onto the side table and brushing Anders’ hand off. “You’re still going to erase my memory tomorrow, preferably before I wake up so that nobody gets the chance to try to convince me otherwise.”

“Oh? So you want a ‘last night on earth’ experience, complete with candles and full-out intimacy? I can provide that for sure. Should I go call up Giles and ask him to fetch some tea lights?”

“Anders, that’s not what I meant…” Miranda got up off the armchair and exasperatedly brushed Anders aside, heading to the bedroom under his own volition to get changed into whatever handmade sleeping clothes that the cleaning crew had set out. Twirling the plain brass ring on his right hand, he added, “I suppose it had to come to that eventually, didn’t it?”

“You don’t have to, Miranda. I was just joking.” His insistence on following after Miranda and waiting outside the bedroom door for him to get changed would have begged otherwise if Miranda was bothering to watch. “It’s no fun if you don’t agree, anyways.”

“Whatever, Master Shew,” the voice at the other side of the door abated. “Just make it safe and as painless as you can handle.”

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