Isis hadn't realised she had fallen sleep. As soon as she had curled up in Mother's lap, Isis had been out cold. She drempt of the current events, each memory was in vivid detail, deatails only a dream could produce. When she woke, about an hour after Lost had first done, Isis had expected to wake up in her bed, or the very least inside her wardrobe. The last thing she thought she remembered was the thunderstom scaring her. She sat up, yawning softly as she stretched. Opening her eyes, Isis had to rub then and look around, her eyes wide.

She was inside the tent they had found Mother in. In that dreary little town in the middled of nowhere. Her eyes brimmed with tears as everything came back to her. Lost had saved Mother, and she had said he would be brought back by morning. He would remember nothing of his previous life, nothing of their friendship, nothing about her. Isis sighed quietly. She would do as he had requested though. She would remember him, and she promised herself that she would never forget.

Mother stepped into the tent with Lost on one of her shoulders. He had recently eaten, and looked much like he had before the . . . incident. He was whispering to Mother when she entered the tent's canvas flap, but stopped immediately when he saw Isis on the bed. His black eyes looked at the girl with an expression that spoke multitudes - yet nothing at all.
"Good morning, little one," Mother smiled down at Isis, and reached up to help Lost down from her shoulder. Setting him on the bed, the old woman glanced between the two before stepping over to sit on a rickety wooden chair. Pulling one of the scattered papers out of a pile, she began to scribble something, completely ignoring the two dolls.
Lost stood a few feet away from Isis, watching her with a neutral expression. Stepping up to the edge of the bed, he sat with his legs hanging over it's side. She wasn't familiar, but something told him he'd seen her before. Staring at the dirt ground below, the doll brushed his dark hair away from his eyes and frowned in concentration. Things didn't feel right. Nothing seemed . . . right. Like there was something that he should remember, but couldn't quiet recall what it was. Glancing over his shoulder to Isis, Lost turned quickly back to look at the floor.

Isis whipped her head up in the direction of the tent flaps when mother spoke to her. She glanced at the doll sitting on Mother's shoulder and felt her heart skip a beat. She hadn't ecpected him to look any different, though he looked like had no idea who she was. Isis knew this would happen, yet it stung to actually experience this firs hand. After all, she had loved him, not, she still loved him.
"G-Good morning Mother." She said softly, afraid of speaking too loud. She watched as Mother set Lost down on the bed and then watched her sit in an old looking shair a little ways away. Isis didn't know what to do now. It had been so easy before when he could remember her. No, she found herself awkwardly standing in the middle of the bed, watching him sit at the edge before looking down at her feet. She grew frustrated with herself. She couldn't understand why she was having such a difficult time with trying to get to know him again. Maybe it was because she knew everything that had happened between them. She shook her head and sighed quietly to herself before sitting down and hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth slowly as she thought of something to do.

He heard Isis sit, but kept his back turned to her. Lost sat still for many minutes before finally slipping off of the bed and moving to the tent's opening. Grasping the rough fabric, the doll looked surprized at its texture. Suddenly inspired, the dark boy moved about touching various objects - it was like he didn't expect everything to have a different feel.
"Mother?" Lost looked up to the older woman, frowning in confusion. In his hands he had a piece of paper with Mother's handwriting scribbled all over it. When the elder leaned down to take it from his hands, he stared up at her with his head tilted slightly to the side. "What is it?"
Mother paused. He had learned to read after becoming a doll - she remembered his stubborn way of learning, and nearly chuckled. But this boy in front of her didn't remember how to read . . . though he seemed curious about it. "These are words," she explained lowering one of the papers down to Lost's level again. "This one is to my daughter."
Lost frowned, reaching a hand out to brush it over the pen's mark. "You write words?" he asked, coughing heavily after speaking.
Mother nodded, and let the paper drift to the ground. "Do you want to learn to read, Lost?"
With a determined nod, the doll clenched his fists and looked down at the letter resting below him. Mother smiled, knowing it wouldn't take him long to learn. It hadn't the first time.

Isis watched as Lost slid off the bed and went to leave the tent. It was strange to see the doll so curious about everything. Isis could not remember being this curious, though Mother had said she was. It was strange to see that he knew nothing of this world. She listened to him talk with Mother about words. He didn't know how to read. She shook her head lightly and wiped a few stray tears before getting up and moving under the blanket. She didn't want Mother to see her crying again. She kept her ears alert, wanting to know what they were talking about.

Lost learned eagerly; hungrily. Almost like a starving child given a bit of food. Mother was patient as Lost stumbled over words or phrases, and gently corrected him when needed. Surprizingly, he didn't need much correction. He caught on far faster than anyone else could have - like someone slowly refreshing their skill.
When Lost had finally read through one of the letters without fault, he brightened. His melancholy mood about not being able to read perfectly vanished swiftly, and he found himself looking over to Isis with wide eyes. His excitement faded, though, when he saw her burried in the blankets. With a confused frown at Mother, he stepped over to the bed and hoisted himself up on it to sit on the edge. Watching Isis' motionless form, the doll frowned. Staying still for many moments, the boy finally looked back to Mother, utterly confused.
Mother stood, carefully picking him up off of the bed and setting him on her shoulder once more. "She's sad," the old woman explained, patting Isis' bundled form.
"Why?"
The woman looked at Isis sympathetically. "She lost someone dear to her."
"Who?"
Mother shook her head. "The boy she loved doesn't remember her. It's tearing up her heart knowing he doesn't think of her anymore."
Lost fell silent, and his black eyes gazed upon Isis for many seconds - Mother waited patiently, standing beside the bed.
"Who could forget someone like her?" Lost rasped, coughing into his hands. He felt sad, though he couldn't figure out why.
Mother shrugged. "I don't know, dear. Who indeed?"
Stepping away from the bed, Mother carried Lost out of the tent. "Let's get you something to eat."

Isis listened to Lost read the letter out loud. She smiled lightly at how quickly he had learned. She felt the bed shift ever so slightly as Lost got back on it. She listened as Mother explained to him what was wrong with her. Isis almost wished she were back home, so she could lock herself away in her room to be alone. But Mother had it the nail dead on. It did feel as though her heart was broken into tiny little pieces. Pieces so small that there would be no hope of getting them put together again.

Her stomach made a small noise at the sound of Mother mentioning food, but she refused to get up. Isis hoped that the pain of a broken heart would go away soon. She didn't know how long she would be able to continue feeling the way she did. Once she heard the rustling of the tent flaps, Isis let out a small scream into the pillow. She felt a little bit more relieved after that little outbust, though only a sliver of relief and nothing more. The one thing that made her feel a bit better was the fact that his voice was still raspy and rough. It was a little part of his former self.

((How depressing. :XD))

Mother watched as Lost got his food, slowly eating it as though tasting things for the first time. It truly felt that way for the doll; he didn't remember tasting things before then.
The Others were curious about Lost's behavior, but even more excited about Mother's recovery. Already the bedraggled dolls were looking a bit better - not quite as sickly. Zarrah herself seemed to brighten, which showed that even the oddest of the village would recover sooner or later.
Lost read everything he could get his hands on, and even wrote words out in the dirt as he ate. The dark-eyed doll avoided everyone else; he felt more comfortable alone or with Mother. Falling into a deep silence, Lost sat on the ground a few feet from the table that Mother sat near. The doll fixed his dark eyes on the ground before him, slowly chewing his bread that he had cupped in his hands. His breathing suddenly halted, and his black eyes widened. What he saw shocked him mightily.

Darkness and mist swirled all about him, and he couldn't seem to gain sense of which way was up or down. No ground stood below him, nothing to grab onto or touch. Lost felt the air constrict, and there in the distance stood a woman - Mother? No. Isis. Reaching a hand out toward the doll, Lost heard his own voice call her name. And then he seemed to fall away from the girl. Pulled down by an inescapable force that coated him in blackness and confusion.

Lost gasped for breath, closing his eyes and dropping the food in his hands. A vision? Mirage? The doll sat still, gritting his teeth as he fought to regain a normal breathing pattern. What is this?

((Yeah, I guess I was just in that mood.))

Isis could no longer ignore the grumbling that her stomach was doing. It was getting rather loud and she could not just ignore it anymore. She found her way out from under the blankets and got up, before moving toward the edge of the bed. Just as she swung her legs down, she could have sworn she had felt something strange. She could hear Lost's voice in her head, calling out her name. It lasted for a few seconds before his voice vanished completely. Isis shook her head slowly, losing her balance at the same time and falling down off the bed. Though the drop wasn't that high, Isis felt something crack and then there was a slight pain. Sitting up, Isis noticed that her left arm seemed to be a little twisted. Her eyes widened at the sight before her. "M-Mother!" Isis yelled out as loud as she could, not sure how far away the old woman was.

The woman was in the tent nearly before Isis finished calling out for her, and swiftly lifted her up off the ground. "Hush now," she crooned, examining her arm gingerly. "My, that is a bit of a break." Sitting on the bed, she looked around for some sort of brace or makeshift cast. The elder ended up settling for a scrap of cloth from the edge of her shirt. Tying it carefully, yet firmly, about Isis' arm, she watched her.
"What happened, dear?" she asked, carefully letting go of the doll's arm. "How did you break your arm?"

((Pssh, I don't mind. :D Makes the story interesting. And we all need a bit of a cry every once in a while. I like the depressing stories, really. Some of my favorites end in sad ways. :cry:))

((You do make a really good point.))

Isis looked up at the woman as she entered the tent. She watched her fix her arm and winced slightly as she tied it all together. "I was going to slide off the bed...but I got this strange feeling. Then I heard his voice in my head. He was calling out to me." She said, not sure if she believed what she had heard. "I lost my balance and fell off." Isis looked up at the old woman. 'I only imagined that right?" she asked.

Lost sat still, his breath finally coming in more even gasps. Slowly forcing himself to stand, he stumbled toward the tent. Had that been real? What just happened? Slipping between the tent's loose flaps, the doll stopped near the entryway when he saw Isis and Mother.
Trying to keep his breath quiet, Lost sat near the door and listened.


Mother watched Isis for a few moments, a thoughtful look on her face. "Imagine it?" She looked to the door, spotting Lost there. "I don't quite know the minds of dolls, but I do know that you are connected." Stroking Isis' arm carefully, the old woman smiled. "Lost has always suffered from strange visions. They were always worse when he was first 'born.' "
There was a confused gasp from Lost as he sat near the entrance of the tent, and the dark-skinned doll slowly stood. Approaching the two women, he glanced warily at Isis before climbing up on the bed's edge.
"Perhaps he hasn't quite forgotten you," Mother whispered, patting Isis' back while watching Lost. "He just doesn't quite know what he's feeling."

Isis listend to Mother. She had never known that Lost had strange visions, so this was a surprise to her. Then again, Isis didn't know very much about Lost . He was a mystery, one that she wished she could solve. She jumped when she heard a gasp from the entryway and looked to find Lost there. The wary look he gave her made her feel a little uncomfortable. Her eyes widened at Mother's words. She looked up at the older woman hopefully. "You think so? You think he might remember me a little?" Isis knew she shouldn't get her hopes up but she couldn't help herself.

"Perhaps. At the very least," Mother said, "he's drawn to you." Looking from one doll to the other, she smiled. "And he isn't drawn to many." This had always been true. Lost never enjoyed crowds, not even small ones. He had been a loner ever since he came to life the first time, and it seemed to be happening the second time around as well. But there were always exceptions.
Lost slowly stood, stepping up to Isis and sitting beside her. He glanced at her hesitantly before reaching forward and touching her arm. "Does it hurt?" he asked, clearing his throat after speaking.

Knowing that he felt some sort of connection to her made her even more hopeful. Could there be a chance that Lost might eventually remember her? She would have to ask Mother later. Isis looked at Lost as he sat next to her. A only small smile touched her face as he coughed. His voice was the same, and he had the habit of coughing after speaking. She glanced down at her arm. It throbbed lightly, but it wasn't too bad. "It only hurts a little bit." She said quietly, glancing back up at him. She took a moment to get a look at him. He seemed like the same Lost, only he was much more curious.

Lost fell silent once more, turning his gaze to Mother. He felt led to say something else, but didn't quite know what. Instead of saying anything at all, he kept quiet. The dark-haired youth shifted uncomfortably after many seconds of silence, though stayed silent.
Mother broke the slight bout of tension by moving over to her table and lifting a book off of its surface. Setting it down before the two dolls, she smiled. "Perhaps you two should read together? It helps break the ice between two strangers."
With a slight frown, Lost reached out to touch the corner of the book. Wasn't this familiar? It seemed like he had seen it before, but he wasn't quite sure. In all truth, this was the first story he had ever read - Mother had taught him to read using this particular novel. Of course, Lost didn't know this . . . but Mother did. Moving to sit in her rickety chair, she started on yet another letter, leaving both dolls alone once more.
Moving to tug the large book closer, Lost looked to Isis as though seeking permission to read with her. His black eyes locked with hers, and he seemed to be entranced by her for a few moments. Blinking slowly, the boy forced his gaze back to the book. Carefully flipping the thick cover open, Lost slowly turned to the first page. He looked like he relished every moment - even more so with Isis sitting beside him.

Isis was thankful for Mother interfering when she had. It was quite awkward for the two dolls. And Mother's suggestion was a perfect one as well. Isis looked at the book. Its cover looked familiar. She caught Lost looking at her, he seemed to be transfixed with her. She nodded her heaad to him, wanting very much to read the book with him. As soon as the doll looked away, Isis blushed. She cradled her arm in her lap as she helped Lost tug the book onto their laps. Now she remembered which book this was. It was the same one he had been reading the day they met. He had dropped it on the floor, so she had picked it up and set it on the table. When he had left and forgotten it, she had brought it to his room where he had let her in and given her a book of his own for her to read. This put a smile on her face.

((Aw . . . what a great match! ^_^ The book from the beginning! Very nice.))

Lost's eyes moved quickly, and he became immediately consumed by the story. He practically lost himself in the alternate reality, moving closer to Isis as he read. Unaware, he seemed to lean against the girl. When he reached the end of the page, he glanced up to Isis and waited for her to finish. Watching her eyes scan over the words, the doll once again found himself staring at her.
It was like meeting someone for the first time, and not remembering where you'd seen their face. Lost suddenly reached up and touched Isis' cheek - like he was checking to see if she was real. Who was she? Where had he seen her before?

((It is, isn't it. It's a shame that Selma and Life weren't a part of this anymore. It would have been most interesting.))

Isis got lost in the pages as they both ready. Lost seemed to finish the pages first. She hadn't even noticed how close he had gotten until she felt him leaning against her slightly. She was still so caught up in the words, her eyes fly over them as she drank in the story. She was startled out of her fantasy world when she felt a hand on her cheek. She had just finished the page, and so she tore her eyes away from it to look at Lost curiously. Her green eyes stared into his black ones, had he remembered something? She had to wonder this as he held his hand to her cheek. Isis realised he must find her familiar and not able to place where he had seen her before.

Lost seemed to be struggling as he looked into her eyes, a frown on his face. For a few moments, he just stared at her. And then his breath caught.

He could see himself handing someone a book. They were in a strange room that was cluttered and full of strange objects . . . yet everything was so familiar. Where was this? Lost heard himself speak, though couldn't quite catch the words. When the other doll left the room he saw her features. Isis.

Lost blinked, bringing his attention back to the doll in front of him. His frown deepened, and he scanned over her face again. Another vision?

Isis looked confused as Lost frowned. "Is something wrong?" She asked quietly as she looked her over. He must have had another vision. That was the only plausable reason she could think of to cause him to look at her the way he was. Isis wondered if she should get Mother. Maybe she could help Lost with his visions. He seemed to be a little bothered by them. But, Mother had said that Lost had a tough time with his visions the first time, maybe it was happenong again.

"No," Lost mumbled, blinking slowly. He looked back down to the book in their laps, clearing his throat. "Next page?" The boy's black eyes locked on one of the words, unmoving while waiting for Isis' reply. His hands were both brought back in front of him and away from the girl beside him. What is this? I know her. But . . . from when?

"If you're sure." she said, looking at him for a few more seconds before nodding. "Yes, you can turn it." She said as she looked down at that book Maybe he was remembering something about her. This made her a little excited, but she knew she couldn't get her hopes up. She helped him turn the page before letting herself get lost in the book.

Zarrah burst through the tent's canvas flap, looking about wildly. First to the couple on the bed, and then to Mother. "Mother!" the skinny doll ran over to the older woman, climbing up into her lap swiftly. "The border is disappearing!" The blue-haired girl seemed panicked. The entire village would die if the border dropped.
Outside the tent many voices seemed to blabber all at once, muttering of doom. An entire group of dolls would pass away if their home faded. Dolls didn't age, but their dwelling place did.
Mother frowned, looking slightly confused for a moment. "The border? It shouldn't be fading so quickly." Standing, the elder helped Zarrah onto the floor. "Let us have a look."

Lost watched the two head outside, a frown on his face. "Border?" the dark-skinned doll looked to Isis. "Will they die without it?" He strove to understand, but it was hard to think about a world with concepts you'd never heard of. His black eyes scanned over the girl's face again, still fighting to remember what his mind whispered. He felt that he had once known the answer to his question, but couldn't remember it. It frustrated him to know that he had once known. Why can't I remember? What else have I forgotten?

Isis had been so caught up in the book that she had jumped in surprise when the pale doll burst through the flaps of the tent. The panic coming off the doll hit Isis full force. Normall Isis wouldn't feel such emotions, but she couldd literally feel the panic and dread coming from the stange doll. Hearing his question, Isis turned to him after Mother and Zarrah left. "Oh, no. They won't, but the village will. The barrier is there to protect the village. It ages at a much slower pace than it would normally if the barrier wasn't there." She explain, knowing it must be hard for him to not understand anything.