[fancypost bordercolor=transparent; width: 400px; text-align: justify]How long had it been? Four weeks? Give or take.
Four weeks since he had lost his memories. No, since he'd joined ColouredClan. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he stopped remembering. He couldn't recall.
For twenty eight days the demiboy fucked around in the anti-clan, no closer to regaining his memories than he was the day before. He had flashes of things that almost just put his finger on -- if he could just think harder, he'd know. He would've figured it out.
But those flickers faded quickly. He was unable to kindle the flame and in return, he had to watch the coughing spark die out, along with his hopes.
But on that day, something strange happened.
He remembered.
Arrah sat in camp, an orange basketball steadied under his alabaster paw. He'd found it when he was out exploring an empty building, along with a flood of memories. He saw the events flash before him in perfect recollection, the feeling sudden and unexpected. He saw someone -- no, he saw himself -- running across the pavement, orange eyes trained on the ball as others swarmed around him. The basketball was launched his way, visionaries filling with surprise. He'd just stood there, dumbfounded, watching a scarred ginger tom expectantly.
"Hey, Billy boy, you playin' or are ya too busy gawkin' at me?"
Array's memories stopped there. He couldn't for the life of him remember what happened next. But that was okay. Finally, finally, he remembered something.
And that was enough.
// rushed aaaa