The only thing she remembers is blood, not even her own name.
Waking up in a strange house in a 'far-off' land, Arturia Pendragon cannot remember a single thing of her past life, luckily she is found just in time to be able to keep on living. With...
Hello guys! I hope you are all liking it and here goes! I apologize in advance for any mistakes; I am very sorry.
Regarding Amnesia, there are many different types of Amnesia. In this story, Arturia has Post-Traumatic Amnesia; meaning she has forgotten her life. But Post-Traumatic can also be mixed and have many other amnesia categories. Arturia also has Source Amnesia, meaning she knows things but cannot place why or how she knows what she does. She has basic knowledge of things i.e. her morals, ethics and origins, as well as instincts and occasional extra information relating to her past but not so much as to remind her of her previous life. Hope this was of help to you all.
Sincerely,
~Ms. AtomicBomb
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A pot filled to the brim with snow was placed over the warm fire as he ran a big hand through his black hair, making it messy and tossed in the process. His lips were pursed in a straight thin line and he blinked a couple of times—as if to remember—before taking an extra set of bandages from a satchel that hung from the wall next to the bricked fireplace. He glanced over at the female and smiled a little bit, appearing less hostile. "Well, we must wait until the snow has completely melted in order to clean your wound," he spoke and she did not say a single word.
He kept an eye on her as he tried not to look so obvious; it was a wonder how she had the strength to hold the iron rod without a single cry of pain. He only figured it was because she had had years of training and the muscles she possessed were there for a reason. There were dark circles under her eyes and he only thought it was natural, what with her nearly dying and passing out in the snow to probably freeze to death if not to die from blood loss. "How are you feeling?"
She gave him a small glare and took a deep breath for she was still in a lot of pain. She groaned lowly as she moved her right arm and lifted her shirt a tad bit to see the stained bandages that covered her wound. Her mind still felt empty and she could feel it's heavy weight on her neck. She did not like the unfamiliar feeling that she was filled with; it made her feel weak—something she knew she hated. It was odd that she did not remember much and what she did was still scrambled all over her mind, like eggs in an omelet; yet her thoughts did not make much sense, unlike food did. She felt dizzy as her mind tried its best to fill itself with something that could make her satisfied; answers.
Seeing as how the snow had melted to form water, Diarmuid had gotten a cloth from the satchel and waited until the water would simmer in order to properly clean the gash on her side without freezing her. After hearing yet another groan from the female's part, he turned towards her and stood. "Let me help you." He insisted as he took small steps towards her, making sure not to alarm her any further.
"I do not need your help." She hissed past clenched teeth, trying to sound as intimidating as humanly possible at this point. Her green eyes were acting like sharp and dangerous emeralds; something he previously thought he would never come across. She was clearly upset with his presence but there was not much he could do about it; and it was relieving that she had yet to fall on her face for him.
