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home is a place. a people. a memory. a home with open doors to those who need them, 1471 Thomas Sloane Avenue, better known as Laurie's House, is, has been, will be a place of becoming. but it is too late. 1471 Thomas Sloane Avenue, Laurie's House, is gone.
// Laurie's House is a TTRPG Actual Play, produced by tendervicious studios. Using The Home We Remember as its system, Laurie's House tells a tale of memory, identity, and community.
Hamnah: Welcome and thank you for listening to Laurie’s House! Laurie’s House is a Home We Remember Actual Play produced by tendervicious studios, a multimedia production studio that creates experimental shows with intent. We aim to challenge and redefine what is possible across mediums. Laurie’s House features Cai Kagawa as the Architect; Gwendolyn Kelly, Hamnah Shahid, and Amir or Nada Alami as the players; Sea Thomas as the dramaturg; Jordon Moses as the podcast editor; and Lexi McQueen as the theme composer.
Hamnah: This episode of Laurie’s House would not be possible without our sponsors, Frivolous Bear Studios and Hero Forge.
Frivolous Bear Studios is a new gaming studio focusing on tabletop roleplaying games that tell untold stories and uplift marginalized voices. The studio is currently accepting pitches for tabletop roleplaying games and other gaming experiences, as well as interest from artists, editors, and designers. Go to FrivolousBearStudios.com to submit your pitch or to express interest for creative work!
Hero Forge offers fully customizable tabletop miniatures with dozens of fantasy species and thousands of parts to choose from. Their easy-to-use design tool lets you build your perfect miniature online using a fully 3D, in-depth character creator right in your web browser. Visit HeroForge.com to start designing your custom miniature today and check back often: new content is added every week!
Thank you so much to Frivolous Bear Studios and Hero Forge for supporting our show. We hope you’ll join us in giving love back to our sponsors, so we can all continue to make weird, experimental art. Without further ado, let’s walk together into Laurie’s House.
Hamnah: Content warnings for this episode of Laurie’s House include fire and burning, descriptions of food and cooking, birds, snakes, complex and complicated relationships, death, and explosions. Please take care of yourself while listening and thank you for Going There with us.
Episode 2, AT LEAST THERE’S BREAKFAST.
Hamnah: Take a step forward. Walk into a different room. A different building. A different part of town. Look around you. Where are you? When are you?
Memories are not perfect snapshots of places, people, emotions, experiences. They are paintings, recreated every time we step foot into the past. The act of remembering is a rewriting of our personal histories coloured by the moment we’re in, by who we are right now.
Memories are held in places. In rooms. In buildings. In parts of town important to us. Time is a place you find. When you find it, you remember. You rewrite. You erase. You relive.
What story will you tell about yourself? And how many times will you tell it?
Cai: Deen, Dione, and Eira–you all stayed to watch the roof succumb. The whole house, after all, was shaped like a chimney. At one point, Eira, you were given a blanket to restabilize your body temperature, and no one dared interrupt you past that, to pull you away to be checked out by the ambulance that came. Theo and Pascal sat in the narrow park across the street in silence. Aspen was checked out by the ambulance. And the next day, you all ate breakfast.
Cai: The diner–a staple for the three of you for a duration that can only be quantified in long, late night conversations, moments of shared joy, and a burning house–sits a few blocks northwest from the house in a more dense, city-like part of town. It's nothing remarkable, and has been a part of the town for generations. The vinyl seats are never perfect. The tables are often a little sticky. The speakers crackle when playing music newer than the 1970s. It is a place where people drink their morning coffee and still read the paper. It's a place where the lawyers for the nearby courthouse refuel before returning to their books. It's where the same folks have come for dinner once a week for years. There's an old mural on the exterior wall of a lion. There's a toy leopard on the counter by the cash register. There's a dragon that is engraved in the aluminium border around the order window to the kitchen. What is everyone's breakfast of choice for the day after the house burnt down?
Gwen: Dione has a plate of a steak and mushroom omelette. It's not good, but it's filling. And at this point it's a less of, “Yeah, this is my favorite thing to eat,” and more of, “This is what I order when I come here.”
Hamnah: On Eira's plate is piled so many sausages and a couple of eggs that they are very quickly putting away. It is heavy, it is hardy, it is meaty, it is fuel. Energy for the day in order to, well, do whatever it is that we need to do.
Amir/Nada: Deen has said a single word since coming in to the diner, and that was, “Eggs.” And the staff understood that the order actually means three eggs over easy, and Deen looks at everyone eating and doesn't really go in at it, more like just cutting the egg into smaller pieces until the yolk gets there, and then letting that sort of break into everything, making it look smaller.
Cai: The diner is otherwise empty. In fact, most places you have gone since the house burnt down are empty, feel empty. The town is empty.
Cai: You eat. You look at each other, you don't look at each other. Who breaks the silence?
Hamnah: Eira does. Eira, through a mouthful of sausages that they are somehow still putting away, will say: “Well that was kind of a shit show. Yesterday. What even happened?”
Gwen: There is a creaking as Dione looks at her reflection, the warped reflection in the reflective napkin holders. And in that reflection is a Knight in fully clad armor, long black feathers out of the helmet shielding most of the face save for a golden, serpentine eye that peers up at Eira. Elbows on the table. Fully armored. Another shift, another clank, revealing the redundantly infinite shaped ouroboros on the breastplate.
Gwen: “Shit show. Shit show! Yeah, yeah it was. Um. I don't know. Does anyone know what happened? How could we know?”
Amir/Nada: I think Deen actually puts food in their mouth to avoid talking at this point. And their hair is now sort of falling over their eyes in a way that indicates that they should have it cut, but they just cut it yesterday. And even the sides that were so perfectly trimmed, edged, narrowed down, are also starting to hide their face in this way. And they nod.
Hamnah: Eira takes their hand and, seeing your hair falling over your face, will very gently, like, brush it and try to tuck it behind your ear. You can feel that their hand is very warm, exceedingly warm to the point where you, if you didn't know them any better, you might assume that they have a fever. But, you know that this is just how hot Eira runs and, as they tuck your hair behind your ear, with no accusation whatsoever in the question, Eira asks, “Was there some sort of electrical issue in–something about the wiring of the house? Anything that could have sparked a fire?”
Amir/Nada: Not only does Deen not react to the touch, but their skin is cold, which is also strange because you know them to run like a healthily warm-bodied person. So, uh, that is something that feels like a pause, as they meet your eyes I think for the first time since the previous day and shakes–they begin to shake their head and then, they grip like the sides of their head, like… “If there was a problem it would have been outside where everyone was. I…I also don't know. You…know where I was.” And they're talking to both of you, but it is with the assumption that, like, they were mostly outside. So, of course you, you, you could assume where they were for the whole day.
Gwen: “I mean…does it even matter?” Dione's voice, the voice of the Knight, rings throughout the suit of armor. “It happened. Now what?”
Hamnah: Eira sets their fork and knife down and kind of leans back in the booth of this diner and puts their arm, one arm behind their head and rubs their hair, looking at Dione. “Of course it matters. How can we stop it from happening if we don't know how it happened in the first place?”
Gwen: There's a slight clank as the fork and knife is put down on the plate, and again, more clanking as the armor shifts, moving back as the Knight sits back in the slightly damaged vinyl.
Cai: As you lean back, the reflection of that dragon–red, scaly–winds around the window. The service window. It looks your way and smiles, its eyes made of fire. Of a burning house.
Gwen: The one visible, golden, serpentine eye wavers. Shaking out of frustration. Out of fear. Out of failure. There is a defeat as the Knight falls silent.
Hamnah: “Well we have to do something. The…you know that that house is the–we all know that that house is the lifeblood of this entire town. With it gone, everything's quiet. Silent. It's not right. And, I mean, fuck. I'm. It’s my job to prevent these kinds of things from happening.”
Amir/Nada: “Hey! Hey.” It's almost too quiet out of their mouth. “It, it's, it's about–you saved them. That's…She was old. Um.” And you could probably also assume by like, the way they're now facing both of you, that their eyes are rimmed red and their eyes are a little puffy. And they have been, I think, struggling to say much of anything. Uh, when I think the energy of yesterday gets sucked out of everybody and everybody feels it. Uh, there doesn't seem to be a proper way to explain where the energy went and if it'll ever come back. And I think that silence carried into this moment until they look back at Eira, as, like: “You're not to blame. And Dione, I know for certain you are also not to blame but I'm sure you knew that. Everyone…left, everyone left, so that's, I think, the best, most–that's the most we can…be grateful for.”
Hamnah: “Hey are you okay, by the way? You seem a little cold.” And Eira puts their, uh, like the back of their hand against Deen's forehead, almost like they're checking for a fever but the opposite of a fever.
Amir/Nada: Yeah, ah, Deen doesn't move again, but it is now, like, with a cognizance that they see you ah put your hand to them and they feel nothing that they–that I think like, a shock runs down their body and they start I think pinching their wrists, and they frown, like… “No. No, Eira, I–I–I…no. There are several things, there was a laundry list–there was a laundry list. There was a list of things that I tried to get through and everything was wrong and… Touch me again.”
Hamnah: “Uh, okay.” And Eira will make the same gesture again, putting the back of their hand on Deen’s forehead.
Amir/Nada: And they're still for a second, and then they like, with a quickness, like they take your wrist and sort of slap your hand against their forehead, as there is, like, not–there's nothing elicited from them. They start like, gripping more at themselves and sort of at your wrist, but then they let it go. They sort of sink into the, the vinyl of the seat like: “No. Of course… Everything's not okay. I, um…” And then they make motions as if they're putting their hands like up and down their neck, and they feel nothing and I think, that isn't obvious until they say it out loud. “I don't feel anything. That's… Dione, pull my hair.”
Gwen: “Deen…Deen, can I just get the ice? Do you want me to do the thing with my fingernails?”
Amir/Nada: “Ah, yeah–please. Please.”
Gwen: And the Knight gets up, and sort of shuffles into the side of the booth that both of you are on instead, and reaches over. Um, beyond Eira, over to Deen's head, very gently runs her fingers through Deen's hair, and just very gently…scrapes her fingers, the gauntleted hand on Deen's scalp, and pulls, looking for a reaction.
Amir/Nada: And Deen sees the gleam of it. They see the stature. They almost see something that is like, more than what Dione is saying, but their body again doesn't react, and they, they…I think freak out, a little bit. They…they start to cry, I think, so they are very clearly–they have always been a very sensitive and emotional person. So this is not them saying I can't feel anything like you would when you're grieving someone, but… Dione is running the gauntlet through their long hair and there is no relief, and that is worse than the pain that they normally complain about, in the smallest of ways. The numbness is worse than having something to hold onto. And, after a few moments, where it is clear that nothing's happening, they gently push the arm back. “Thank you, Dione.”
Gwen: And Dione pulls the arm back, um, doesn't move from crowding the booth a little bit, but um, there is a bit of ah, a fall in the shoulders of the Knight, a crestfallen… There is a feeling of failure that rises again.
Cai: This sensation, this failure burns inside of you… And I would like you to draw on a memory. Dione, will you pull for me from Wands?
Gwen: 5 of Wands.
Cai: Ooh. Dione. “Those around you wield sharp tongues and knives. Locked in conflict. What do you bring to the fight?”
Gwen: The Knight lifts her knife and fork to the omelette and shakily cuts across the edge. But there's a slip–something about wielding cutlery and gauntlets just doesn't work–and the knife clatters to the ground underneath the booth. There is a quiet, “Ugh! Fuck!” And the Knight reaches–ducks under the booth and Dione reaches underneath her mother's bed to retrieve a box. And slowly pulls it out, stands up, and turns to her Sister. “What is this?”
Cai: “I'm not doing this again.”
Gwen: “Now… We don't have to do this.”
Cai: “I mean we obviously have to because you went all the way down there.”
Gwen: “Yeah, okay, I-I know but we have to go through everything.”
Cai: “We could–I–Dione, every single box every, single one? We can just get a storage unit, put it in a truck, do literally anything other than piece by piece take apart our mother.”
Gwen: “So you just want to put her away?”
Cai: “No that, I think, was your job.”
Gwen: And…the Knight, taking the knife, gets up from the booth and walks over to the counter, to exchange it for one that hasn't been on the floor, and she stops in front of Pascal. Dione runs her fingers through her crimson curls. Her bright golden eyes flickering a bit. “So! You’re the reason she, she got in. You helped her?”
Cai: “Very little. It was mostly her own doing, her grades were good. She's got the right mentality for it.”
Gwen: “She's gonna be gone for a long time.”
Cai: “It's what she wants. It's one of the best schools available and she's going to go and become a great lawyer.”
Gwen: A pit of understanding and resentment sinks into Dione’s stomach, and the mamba around her body begins to follow it, coiling around her body, sinking lower and lower.
Cai: A photograph faces you Dione, one that your mother took of a much younger Pascal: still dressed in a suit, proper, smiling from ear to ear, looking off camera. She used to always tell the story that that was the photo that she knew that Pascal was in love with Theo. Before they were together, while he was still waiting.
Gwen: Dione nods, and swallows that pit. “I can't thank you enough.”
Cai: “Thank me when I, um, figure out how to get you your dreams.”
Gwen: Dione nods. The Knight retrieving the clean knife, looks down through the helmet, a single serpentine eye staring through the slits, and there's a half-turn, a…acknowledgement in the self that those dreams don't exist, those dreams are simply chasing a princess, slaying a dragon, over and over and over again. And Dione faces the box, open, alone now, broken frames. Tara, her mother, she never threw anything away. These were unusable. They were all different sizes. It was junk. And Dione closes the lid to the box, and crouches down in her apartment, surrounded by the paintings that her mother loves so much of fantasy novels and magazines, and places the box next to the other ones. The other belongings to her mother. Silently.
Cai: One of the paintings catches your eye. There is someone astride a horse–beautiful, long mane braided with ribbons. Who is it?
Gwen: It's Dione. No, it's Theia. Theia always was there to save the day. I mean, without Theia, their mother would have been long gone before her time. Theia was there for her. For Tara. For Deen. And Dione was in the kitchen. And, as the Knight turns back to the booth and begins to walk, Dione walks through the kitchen of Laurie’s house and out into the backyard and in front of the train station. She takes a breath and it doesn't feel right that she says anything first.
Cai: “It's gonna be okay.” Your sister stands there. The wind whips her hair ever so slightly. She's already dressed like she is ready to become something else than the girl crawling around on the floor in your childhood house.
Gwen: Dione, much younger now, a child, turns to her friend that she's had since this age. She turns to Deen. “Are we still going to be friends even though Theia’s gone?”
Amir/Nada: “Yeah! I–Why would you ask that? I–I should have said, I should have said…I could be the dragon, and I could be the dad. I… She, she, she's going, she's going to get…she's going to get the play that she wants when she comes back. She doesn't like being alone.”
Gwen: “I just–”
Amir/Nada: “I could be the mom.”
Gwen: “I just know that you–” And Dione turns to face Deen fully–older now, just a couple of years younger than she is, about 24–across from Deen in one of the bedrooms in the house. “I can tell that you… I could tell. You know that, right?”
Amir/Nada: “I. Well yeah, it was, it was–” And Deen's almost frustrated that you would have any air of confidence here. They say: “It's not really a matter of hiding it. It's like, if you were around I could have told you, like…like, the kitchen is your space, but the house is our space, but–you know that, you know how weird that is? Like.”
Gwen: “If I could just–Deen, if I could just stay in this kitchen, it would have been perfect. I would have been around. Someone has to pay the bills!”
Amir/Nada: “If I could have worked, I would’ve.”
Gwen: “No, you were doing something far more important. You were there for Theia. I wasn't.”
Amir/Nada: “And your mom. That doesn't mean it wasn't important. That's not–we're not, we're not trying to, to make each other miserable, our paths just keep…not hitting each other. I don't wanna–I don't want to fight.”
Gwen: The Knight stops in front of the booth again, staring down at the half-eaten food, at Deen and Eira. And Dione looks up once again at the train station, standing next to Deen across from…her sister, who was leaving.
Gwen: “Um. Visit?”
Cai: “Obviously. I'm coming back, literally ever again.” And you hear in her words she's never coming back. Not really.
Amir/Nada: “You're gonna do great.” Deen's head is down. It is like, past sunset and the shadow is cutting off their face right now. Their silhouettes straight up and down, and void.
Cai: Dione, what does it feel like to see your sister reach out to Deen–wait, of course, before Deen sees that she's going to touch them, wait for that acknowledgement, that moment of permission that you know that she understands with Deen that she never gives you–what does it feel like?
Gwen: It feels like the acknowledgment that this bird of prey will not give her the same grace. That the tight coils of the mamba around Dione's neck continue to constrict defensively, so that there will be no words. There will be no tears. And there will be no feelings, as they get pushed down into the hole in the back of Dione's neck that the mamba retreats into to avoid the talons of that secretary bird that stalks across her sister's chest.
Cai: The foot, the clawed, sharp talons. The dragon's foot comes down just before: we see the kitchen behind you, framed in that tin, um, wall of the diner with the dragon coiling around it. Through the hole into the kitchen you see Laurie's kitchen, your childhood house, the kitchen you work in. We see just a normal, serviceable kitchen full of boring steel and no love. Dione. “Those around you wield sharp tongues and knives locked in conflict. What do you bring to the fight?”
Gwen: Dione does not intend to draw blood. Dione intends to keep assailants at bay. One-on-one is easier, but because there are many, defense is of the utmost importance. Dione wields a rapier meant for deflecting, to keep people at a distance, away from her heart.
Cai: And what in the house changes?
Gwen: The santoku kitchen knife with the turquoise handle…so versatile, is now limited to intricate detail work. It is limited to being very careful. It is now a paring knife that is designed to peel. It's designed not for everyday use, but for very specific tasks. It is designed for focused work, work that puts a blinder to everything and everyone else that could possibly be in the kitchen.
Cai: In the diner, the three of you sit and eat. The train leaves the front of Laurie’s house, taking Theia with it, the box just a plate, a fork, a knife in front of you, Dione. The dragon stops looking. It's just a reflection.
Cai: Deen, what does the vinyl seat feel like or not feel like?
Amir/Nada: It is a pressure on their whole body, but moving their limbs on it kind of makes them feel lost, as if it is like, infinitely smooth even though it's mostly just kind of greasy. And there is, like, a give that their body is grateful for but they are still concerned with. If they're forgetting, like, something about their body, like something's missing, and they're not finding it in sensation, which is how you normally figure out that something is wrong, but they can't right now.
Cai: Eira, what do you drink after you devour that whole plate?
Hamnah: Eira has in front of them a black coffee. No milk, no sugar, nothing to mask the bitter taste in Eira's mouth. And they drink it down hurriedly, refilling their cup over and over again as they do, because there's no…there's no running from what happened here, specifically. There is only moving forward by moving backward, by fixing everything, and in order to fix it you have to… you have to find the source of the problem. You can't sugarcoat it. You can't hide it. You have to find it and stop the fire before it spreads.
Cai: Deen. As you search for that comfort, that ease… What memory do you pull on? Let's draw a card. I would like you to draw from pentacles or coins.
Amir/Nada: Oh boy. Somehow I knew. I'm gonna shuffle it again.
Amir/Nada: The princess of pentacles.
Cai: Oh wow. Okay. “You've been tasked with tending to the garden. How well do the plants do under your care?”
Amir/Nada: This is a task filled with subtasks. So, the thing that Deen does, when it comes time to break this all down, is walk in a circle. It is the house that they're walking around. They do this once, they do this three times, they do this slower. This is not gonna make the tasks go away. They start walking a hole into the ground. They start to descend into thought that is circling the drain they are walking down. There in the basement, they see, I think, a bigger problem. Forget the list. They can't, but they try. They look as if–if they knew how to speak Morse, but these are circuit breakers. Some of them are off, and some of them are on, and there are masking tape writings of every room and every light source that demands electricity. Something's wrong, and they hold the box with two hands, the circuit breaker box.
Cai: Whose writing is it? Do you know?
Amir/Nada: Deen could have sworn it was Theia’s, but they don't know. The masking tape is old and it's still, despite everything, hanging on. Everything's legible. Everything is clear, as if the ink was from a fresh pen. Everything is as if it was unchanged for years and Deen is intruding into a past that they are pressing themself against
Cai: What's the fifth thing on your to-do list?
Amir/Nada: It is definitely, ah–fuck! Of course it was extension cables, but they keep going missing. Ah, because they could have sworn last month that this was on the list of things to buy. This was not their job, but they went and bought them anyway, and they can't find them.
Cai: What's one thing you didn't do because you had to leave the house and expend all of that energy and time?
Amir/Nada: They missed PT. It's that simple.
Cai: The breaker box hums in front of you, the writing well-worn, kept maybe just by the will of the house itself, new and legible. Why can't you figure it out?
Amir/Nada: The words on the tape are saying things to me that should tell me what the problem is, and Deen's eyes are struggling to focus in the dark, in the–below the surface. They have walked this circle thousands of times, and water will eventually come and collect and irrigate, and there is no wasted effort, but there is only so much that they can do. And I think they're just tired. Their eyes aren't focusing because they're tired.
Cai: What is one piece of text, script, note, website that you see in this writing, that you can't discern, that isn't helpful. There is no wasted effort, sure, but there are closed doors. There are unhelpful attempts.
Amir/Nada: That is so hard. I think it is a text that their mom sends them regularly, but Deen doesn't own the Arabic keyboard software for their phone. They know what the word says, but the translation between I miss you and “توحشتكِ” is not something that can be smoothed over in three words. And sometimes they just don't reply because of that. They could download the keyboard whenever they wanted to, but, ah, they also know their parents are doing just fine.
Cai: That text message is written on this subterranean headstone of not the first grave, but a place that you keep your body.
Amir/Nada: I think Deen looks up, like, there is, like a single fluorescent bulb over this breaker that's run by a motor in case anything ever goes wrong and they need to see. And it's like the sun if it wasn't as harsh, the sun if it didn't burn. They–they are holding the box and they look up. “What do you want from me?”
Cai: The sun, the hole you wore through the roof all the way down into the basement, a street lamp, a bus stop. The ceiling fan from your last apartment, the bright lights of your very uncomfortable, ah, experience at a PT office that you never went back to. The light from the basement looks down at you and it is yellowed, halogen, empty, cold. But, you hear footsteps upstairs.
Amir/Nada: They close their mouth. That would be a wild thing for someone to hear, and people know Deen's in the house all the time. They–but they don't want it to be Aspen who's walking. It's likely Aspen who's walking, and Aspen never says a mean word, but Aspen just talks a lot, so, it could–it could be…someone, someone here to save them. It could be anybody. I think…Deen is shying away from that prospect, and they try to look back at the circuit board. “Okay. I think some things need to be turned off for a bit.” And they can't read the words, they know the position of the switch for the garden, the, the outside lights. They turn it off.
Cai: What does it feel like that?
Amir/Nada: It is… Nothing happens. It's like a feeling of standing up too fast but you don't remember that you have sat, you don't remember why you stood, and once you fell you don't know where you are. And Deen can just feel the blood rush. Something got turned off.
Cai: You're gonna have to reset the automatic timer on the sprinklers again, just because you turn the power off. And the lights won't turn back on, obviously.
Amir/Nada: Yeah. They–they're on the ground, they hit their head and clasp it. And nothing comes out of their mouth, because they know where they are. They're in the basement, they're in the garden. They can't see the steps that lead to the house. They just see the circle, which isn't a clock, it's not a ditch but they've walked the circle so many times, it's like, as predictable as clock hands moving. It's like, hands reaching for them, and I don't know how much time has passed, but Eira’s here.
Hamnah: “Hey! Hey, Deen! Deen, can you hear me?”
Amir/Nada: “Wha–” You feel as if your hands are like, the conduits that connect to the battery, something come to life, and Deen looks at you. “Whoa, I didn't know you were here to save me! What happened?”
Hamnah: “Hey! Hey, ah–” You see a contorted Eira’s face above you. There is concern coloring their eyebrows, which are knitted as they look down at you. They are holding the back of your head with one hand and the other is sort of like scooped underneath you as if Eira is about to, like, pick you up. “Did you fall and hit your head or something?”
Amir/Nada: “Mmm…I'm on the ground. Ah, fuck.”
Hamnah: “Okay–”
Amir/Nada: “Yes.”
Hamnah: “You seem a little loopy. How long have you been down here, anyway?” And as Eira is, like, saying that and Deen responds, Eira is going to stand up and pick Deen up, like, ah, fireman style and put them over their shoulder, uh, and try and stabilize them the best that they can in case there is some sort of, like injury that Eira is not aware of–because Eira’s a firefighter, not a paramedic–
Amir/Nada: Uh-huh.
Hamnah: –and is going to start heading up the stairs of the basement.
Amir/Nada: Mhm. You feel, like, at the bend of where Deen's torso has to, like, ah, basically fold to fit over your shoulder is something very delicate. Like. Maybe a lot of moving pieces or organs that might be unsettled, like Deen was, like, encased in jelly and then they were suddenly hit like a concussion and everything is slightly shifted, but it's not water. It is like, how the brain floats in the head, it is supported by so many small processes. And they flop onto your shoulder and you can hear them laugh literally behind you. Like: “Ah, I'm just gonna trust that it's gonna be okay, ‘cause, ah…I don't know. I-I-I wish I could tell you what happened, Eira.”
Hamnah: “You see, you are not making me feel better–”
Amir/Nada: “Mmm.”
Hamnah: “You’re really not.”
Amir/Nada: “That's, that's really too bad! Because I already feel so much better right now.” Fuck.
Hamnah: “Hey, Aspen!” As Eira’s going up the stairs.
Cai: Like, like nothing's happened. They are sitting at the table in the dining area. Um, after pacing around the house for quite a while, uh, they finally settled down and started working again.
Hamnah: “Hey, I think Deen has a concussion or something. Do you mind, ah, helping me take them to the, to the hospital.”
Amir/Nada: Their legs start kicking. “Put me down, please.”
Hamnah: “Deen, no! You are clearly a little bit loopy, or something–I think you have a, I think you have a concussion or something, and–
Amir/Nada: “I've had them before! It’s–”
Hamnah: “That does not make me feel better!”
Cai: Deen. Your carabiner is clearly, ah, under your hip–
Amir/Nada: Mhm.
Cai: Digging a little bit into Eira’s shoulder, I'm sure–they are being a good sport about it, but you are very aware where your carabiner is, um. But more importantly, what does it feel like when someone unprompted, unasked for, and without barter or expectation picks you up, and carries you out from danger, from a pit that you walked yourself into?
Amir/Nada: Deen wasn't lying when they said they feel so much better now, even if the exact details of why this happened is lost. They've had to let go of the why so many times that they are coasting on the good that they can hold, and they don't let people do this. I think the question of ‘let’ is nothing that they ever verbally talk about, with people, and they can see the sun. It's not changed since the last time they have seen the sun. It is, like, 1:00m it has maybe been 30 minutes. It has maybe been–it could have been a day, and they wouldn't have known, but, they are in this space and time, and it feels good to let the rigidity go, to push back on somebody who knows that you can be weak, right now.
Hamnah: And and the more that you, however serious it might be, sort of try to push back on this, you can feel that Eira’s grip around you is solid. It is strong. It is sturdy. They are not going to drop you, and they are not going to let you down in this moment, and the more that you kind of kick your legs and fight and insist that you are okay even when you're not, the tattoos of pine trees along Eira’s forearms come out and they wrap around you like a sling, like a harness, like bindings to ensure that everything, all of the parts of you that have shifted out of place, are kept where they are supposed to be. In their rightful place, where you are okay.
Amir/Nada: Which is so interesting, because everyone has commented on how Eira smells like smoke and it is not attractive at all, and Deen doesn't get it, because pine is one of their favorite scents. They take the time to bury their head in, where–they're out of words, they're just in the fabric of the back of Eira’s shirt. And you can feel the fights leave their body as you don't budge.
Cai: And the sun shines down on both of you–bright, warm, all-encompassing. You hear the birds in the trees in the backyard, you can smell the fresh mint. The rich scent of thyme, the freshly budding roses in the garden.
Cai: Deen. “You've been tasked with tending to the garden. How well do the plants do under your care?”
Amir/Nada: The circle works as a way to collect water. They don't know about upscale irrigation. They don't really know about, like, what the best maintenance is for different plant types. But they have walked the circle and they are now leaving it. I don't think it matters if Deen is present, because the point is that the plants will be fine without their care.
Cai: And what item has changed in the house, as you ascend out of the pit, the caldera, the well?
Amir/Nada: The hiking stick becomes a crutch, but just one. Um. They had only needed it for the one time they twisted an ankle, and it has helped them get up from the bathtub. They've never had to stand up in the bathtub after getting a shower chair, so why should they throw shit away that they might need later? Sitting down and taking a shower is way more fun than having to let the blood pressure rise up as you stand, honestly, and they don't want to fall again. It was a little embarrassing the first time.
Cai: A knife changes from one that cuts anything, maybe even an apron string, into one for only cutting with focus and care. And a wooden cane of mysterious origin becomes a cool, metal crutch, strong enough to lift or shatter. As your memories bleed into a burning house.