D i m o s t h e n e s Dimosthenes was alone. He hadn't talked to anyone since healing from the plague. The voices were gone, but the scars remained. He had only snatches of broken and fractured memories left, and his mind was empty. One lonely voice remained: his own. Somehow, although he hated to admit it, that wasn't enough. Dime alone wasn't enough for himself anymore. He hated it. He hated it. HE HATED IT. Was he weak, to need other wolves to talk to? He would have thought so, before. He didn't know what he thought anymore. He stared around himself with dead eyes. He was in a shallow depression, covered in green grass. It was a warm day, and he could catch a scent of heady grassiness. He couldn't see anyone. He wouldn't want to talk to them even if he did. He didn't want to acknowledge how much he needed conversation. He sat alone, and for the first time in a long time, felt a prick of tears beading in his eyes. "Speech"

Starting to pick his way through the various lands of Boreas, Gil found himself farther west than he had anticipated. Trekking over the rolling hills where dense forest broke away to a wide basin, he moved down the slopes at an easy pace. In search of a good water spot, he hadn't expected to see anyone else here today. With the weather appearing balmy overhead with quick-moving storm clouds, most of the prey had already taken to hiding within the brush. It was the familiar scent of a forgotten friend that caught his interest as he approached the water. Turning his course to follow the scent, Gil's ears pricked forward as he caught the sight of Dime sitting by himself. For the first time ever, Gil's heart twinged. "Dime," he called out quietly in that deep baritone of his. "Long time no see," Gil rumbles with a small smile on his lips. Their brief passing within the ooze wasn't remembered as he approached and wondered why his friend appeared so sad.

D i m o s t h e n e s Dime sat alone for only a few minutes,  though it felt like hours. He let his tears drop slowly. What was the point in pushing them back? What was the point in pretending he was stronger, now? Why should he cling to anything at all, any part of the wolf he'd believed himself to be. When he was really tested, he was far weaker than he'd though he was. Was he broken? It felt like a bad breakup with the man he used to be. A wolf eventually arrived, and Dime didn't move, except to shove his paw against his eyes to try to clear away the tears and at least try to make himself look respectable. He could doubt all he wanted inside, but he still held to the firm idea that he was not the kind of wolf who let others see him weak. Especially strangers. Dime still didn't remember ever meeting this man before. "Wait... What do you mean? Who are you?" In his memory, he'd never met this man before in his life and yet he greeted him by name and said 'long time no see' like they were old buddies. He was too tired to be angry, though. "Speech"

Confusion scrunched his face farther as his ears flicked backward. The words that came out of Dime's mouth nearly hurt him. How did he not remember who he was? Frowning profusely, he ignored Dime wiping away the obvious tears he'd been crying. His own pride was hurt as he shook his head in disbelief. "Dime, it's me, Gilgamesh," the larger male insisted as he tried to work out in his own mind how it had happened. Had the ooze really terrorized his friend's mind enough to take away his memory? Sighing, he turned his face to gaze out into the distance. "It's okay if you don't remember me," he whispered as he let his shoulders droop. "I wish I could help you remember," Gil's voice is quiet as he places himself in a sitting position beside his friend. Well, someone he thought was his friend.

D i m o s t h e n e s The man said his name, Gilgamesh. It felt like something should have happened then. Something should have gone boom in Dime's mind and thrown his memories back into place. But nothing happened. The birds still chirped, the air still buzzed with the smell of warm grass, and he was still staring at a stranger through blurry eyes. He nodded numbly as Gilgamesh spoke, but when he sat next to him, he flinched. He couldn't help himself. "I can't," he said, a heavy sob breaking his words. "I can't--I don't know anything anymore." What was he anymore? He could remember some stuff, but how much was he missing? How many strangers would claim to be his friends? He turned away from Gilgamesh. He had to trust him, didn't he? Right now, this guy was all he had. He stared at the grass, and asked hesitantly, "How long did we know each other?" Please don't say years, please don't say years. "Speech"

Listening to the small wolf beside him attempt to control the sobbing, Gilgamesh winced. He had noticed the flinching reaction to him sitting and he wondered if maybe he should have left Dime alone. But then, what kind of friend would that have made him? He didn't have a lot of friends, was his own fault, but the ones he did have, he wanted to keep. Gil's ears fell to the wayside as Dime looked down to the grass beneath him. If this memory loss were a result of the sickness that had spread, why be so ashamed? A deep sigh left his lips as he shook his head gently. "I would not say a year. Closer to a half, not far from before the sickness," Gil admitted this truthfully. Their day in the valley hunting that sheep and sparring each other had been fun. Not that they had spent much time together after that, but he still held it dear to his heart. "I would not say we had been the closest friends, but close enough that I remember you," he mentioned after a few pauses of silence. There would be no use detailing their encounter during the sickness because even then was a hazy time for himself.

D i m o s t h e n e s Gilgamesh explained their friendship. Okay. Good. Dimosthenes hadn't forgotten any sort of lifelong best friend. To his knowledge, he didn't have any of those, but since the ooziness, he couldn't trust that. Spirits. What had he become? He couldn't trust his memory; he couldn't trust his mind... What could he trust? He was seized with a sudden feeling of loneliness. Even though he had a friend apparently right here, what did that mean if he didn't know him? They might as well be strangers. They were strangers, in his mind. He hesitated before asking his next question. "Do you still want to be friends?" Dimosthenes didn't know much -- couldn't trust much of what he did think he knew -- but he knew that he needed somebody to talk to. That or he would actually go insane, worse than ever. "Speech"

Silence dragged out between them as they both considered what they wanted moving forward. When Dime asked if he still wanted to be friends with him, Gilgamesh sincerely considered the question. At first, the answer was easy. Of course, why wouldn't he want to be friends with the wolf? What time they had spent together had been enjoyable. The smaller wolf had tenacity and intelligence, two things Gil looked for in companionship. But with his new future, would it work out if he was with the pack now? Contemplating his answer, Gil allowed the silence to lull over them again. "I do wish to remain friends," he spoke hesitantly as his thoughts pulled back to an important fact. Dime didn't remember who he was. They were practically strangers once more. It made the fur bristle along his shoulders. How could the Long Night have been so cruel to so many wolves? Anguish built up inside of him as he shook his head lightly. "Since the Long Night, I have been trying to change my life around. I did enjoy our friendship, but ultimately, it is up to you," finally his yellow eyes turned to Dime. Somehow, he could feel his own brimming with wetness. Crying never happened for Gil, he was too masculine for that sort of blubbering. But now, as he looked to Dime, his heart strained with the ache that possibly he had lost someone important.

D i m o s t h e n e s Dimosthenes's heart began to race as the silence stretched on. He was nervous. It felt strange to be so stuck on someone he didn't know at all, but that was how it seemed it was. In his mind, Gilgamesh was a key. A hint, to the wolf he was before. Was he different then? Did he know something vital that he'd forgotten in the haze of the ooze? He wanted to go back before the disease destroyed his life, and maybe reuniting with someone that he'd known before would help. Gilgamesh spoke eventually, but he did want to be friends. That drew a smile out from the shadows of Dime's face. And he enjoyed the friendship? That was all he had hoped for. "I'd like to be friends, too. What do you like to do?" It was time to get to know this guy again. A restart on whatever they'd had. "Speech"

Relieved to see a smile on Dime's face, Gil smiled again in return. When Dime asked what he liked to do, Gil turned to glance out at the basin around them. The tall grass bent gently in the wind that ruffled his coat. What did he like to do? The answer seemed so easy. "I enjoy hunting, sparring, traveling, and being around others I like," he spoke softly now as his thoughts turned toward Modesty and the pack. His life really was coming together, wasn't it? Sighing, he let his shoulders shrug a moment before he tilted his spotted face back to Dime. "What about you? I know you don't remember much, but surely you enjoy things too," he asked carefully, but maybe not as carefully as he could have.