Sage
What is this strange feeling? It’s as if… well… my head is all fuzzy. What happened yesterday?
And… who is this… Sage that keeps cropping up in my mind. I must go find her, maybe she can make some sense out of this.
Are you alright? Sage wrote in her notebook, tapping the dazed-looking girl on the shoulder and holding up the paper for her to read. You don’t look like you’re feeling too well.
Valeria turns around to look at the person who had tapped her - a handsome boy with brown hair. Seeing as he had communicated with his notebook, Valeria mimics his actions and pulls out a small quill and spare parchment from inside her robes. No. Can’t remember anything. Trying to make sense of everything. She bites her lip, and continues to write below in a flourish. With a look of distress and hopefulness, she hands the notebook to the boy.
Do you happen to know a Sage?
Sage studied the girl with concern. There have been several odd cases of disappearing memories and strange potions being administered around the castle, causing all sorts of chaos. And it seemed to her that this girl, who she’s sure she’s seen in some of her classes, was one of the victims. When the notebook was returned to her, Sage read it once, then twice. She was taken aback that this girl she barely knew seems to have been in search of her. Did you taste anything odd in your food or drink? Her quill hesitated over the paper before she scribbled out the rest of her reply. Yes, I do. I’m Sage. Is there something you need?
Momentarily forgetting about their written conversation, Valeria’s tongue slips as she shoves the notebook into the boy’s arms. “You? Sage? Yeah, if she suddenly grew boy parts,” she scoffs in disbelief. Does he think I’m stupid? I seriously hate it when they do this to me. “But all jokes aside, I need her. I have a feeling she’s the only one who can help me make sense of all this lunacy.” Valeria turns on her heels to walk away from the boy, but hesitates mid-step. Realizing that she is becoming increasingly desperate, and also increasingly impatient, she reluctantly marches back with strong strides. Sharply grabbing the notebook back (because she figured that the boy probably didn’t understand a word she was saying before), she jots down her response.
A) I told you already, I don’t remember. It isn’t called memory loss for nothing.B) Think she knows something I don’t about this.P.S. You say you’re Sage? I’ll give you a chance to prove it.
From the Mun:
5 years later I’m looking at this interaction, and I’m so confused…
