Ghost Story

[Varric]

"That's a very good point," Varric says with a slightly rueful laugh. "Yeah, you're right; working on your memory troubles first is a good plan."

[Marian Hawke]

"So how do we fix it?"

[Varric]

Fuck should I know? "Well," he stalls briefly, leaning back a little in his chair as he gives her a contemplative look. "First step should probably be figuring out if there's any patterns or noticable blank spots in your memory. Might be easiest to basically write an autobiography. Doesn't have to be fancy, just try and document as much as you can about yourself."

[Marian Hawke]

"I can do that," she begins, hesitantly. "But it won't be very long."

[Varric]

"It'll be as long as it is. Don't worry about it too much. Start with what you can get yourself, then we'll step things up. I'll interview you after reading it over, see if questions loosen anything up." He offers another smile. "Step by step."

[Marian Hawke]

She nods. "Right. Step by step." Here goes nothing.

[GamesMaster]

"--and that's why Emma can't remember anything." The explanation was logical; it made perfect sense, though it was surprising coming from Bethie as they sit and sip tea in Varric's former living room. He finds himself lucid, already nodding with agreement as he wakes into the dream, but try as he might, he can't recall a word of the explanation, only how logical and obvious it was in hindsight. 

[Varric]

Varric stares a moment, then frowns at the mug of tea. Tea? Why am I drinking tea? He sniffs it and his frown deepens. There not even any whis-- His next breath picks up the sharp bite of rye whiskey and he blinks. Or... there is? Huh. Guess I'm tired? Would explain the tea I suppose. Wait, what was she saying? "Right, of course," he replies uncertainly, then attempts to catch up without admitting he's lost. "What's your conflicting evidence?"

[GamesMaster]

"There isn't any," says Bethie, smiling just a touch -- an almost smug expression. "As would be expected of a true hypothesis. I even threw the bones to confirm the theory. It's airtight." 

[Varric]

"There's always conflicting evidence," Varric says firmly, the certainty born from an oft-repeated topic lending his words weight. "It might also support the proposed hypothesis, there's always something that supports another theory or possibility."

[GamesMaster]

"There is no conflict if it conforms to the hypothesis," argues Bethie in her sweet, high-pitched. "Much of the evidence could be used to support alternate theories, but each has a fatal flaw. This is the correct answer. No other answer fits the facts as reported."

[Varric]

"No other answer you're aware of," Varric corrects her, an almost content look in his eyes. "Proving a negative is impossible, so you can't ever be completely certain that there's not another variable or unknown fact that would disprove your hypothesis."

[GamesMaster]

"Incorrect. Proving a negative with logic is impossible. However, things can be known absolutely with the advent of divination magics and the ability to glean knowledge from those outside the Material Plane. To the best of my skills and abilities, this answer is true." Hey, did Bethie used to have pupils? She doesn't anymore. 

[Varric]

"Incorrect," Varric almost sing-songs back at ne. "Divination isn't foolproof. The gods can and do lie. And They don't know everything either. Or at least, They've presented Themselves in that manner." He takes a sip of his tea, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth. 

[GamesMaster]

Bethie leans forward, a blue tint becoming more prominent in her skin as she does -- the lighting, perhaps? "Varric, are you listening? Can you hear me?"