Welcome to Gaia! ::

Lost again.

One of these days, Kildegard would obtain the mental prowess needed to keep his wayward thoughts in line. On that day, he would be able to keep focused in reality, no matter how interesting or unusual a thought presented itself to him. He would keep his mental faculties in order, and he wouldn't end up spacing out and roaming the countryside in a fog, only to come to in some odd place he didn't recognize and no memory of how he got there.

That day was not today, though. Well, it might be today, but it hadn't been whatever day that had seen him slip into his mental oblivion and wander off. It could have been days, it could have been hours...all he knew was that he didn't know where he was.

And, even more troublingly, he didn't know who he was talking to!

At the sound of the mare's voice, he had turned with a sheepish smile, ready to ask for information about where he was. But that smile turned quickly to an expression of panic as she greeted him as an acquaintance, when he couldn't recall ever seeing her face before.

That was one of the problems with his blackouts. When disoriented, he could go for days on what could, at best, be described as autopilot. He could wander, he could eat, he could basically exist in a stated of limited animation, animation that could easily extend to encompass basic conversation or beyond. As long as he'd never had to engage his mind in a meeting, he could go through it without even remembering it later...which made things awkward if he met up with those Soqs later, when conscious. Like now.

Still, there was nothing he could do about it except roll with it, something he'd gotten a lot of practice with in his time. Tamping down his panic, he gave the mare a friendly smile, offering, "Hello, Blossomforth, I'm Kildegard. And this might sound odd, but are you sure we've met? This may sound odd, but I have no recollection of meeting you before, and I would hope that I'd remember you." Not the smoothest of greetings, but there you go.

Truth be told, meeting people was one of the the most problematic occurrences for Kildegard, specifically because of this possibility. Running into other Soquili when he was out of it had a chance to snapping him back into reality, but that wasn't a guarantee. The problem came when he ran into the polite sort of Soquili, the kind who would talk to him very kindly and mildly and, as a result, not engage his brain enough to require consciousness. Such Soquili weren't loud or violent, and often just let him go. Unfortunately, they were also the sort of Soquili that were most upset if they encountered him later and he didn't remember them.

Luckily, Blossomforth didn't seem to be too traumatized, but it bothered Kildegard on principal. It was only good manners to at least remember the color-scheme of those you've met before, even if you don't remember them themselves!

She likely had his number, though, as at her gesture he turned to look at his distinctive cross marking. "It is somewhat unusual, I guess. Oh well, in case of accidental death it's probably a good thing to have, for identification purposes!"

No, he didn't feel awkward; what would ever make anyone think that he felt awkward right now? Just because he discussed post death identification methods...

~Whoa, easy Kildegard. Continue off like that, and your mind will be gone again~. Shaking his head and whuffing slightly to get ahold of himself, he probably looked a bit comical. But a stallion had to do what he had to do!

Feeling that he had a comfortable grip on himself, he smiled once again at the mar, trying not to think about any side effects of his bizarre performance. "Alright then, so we are introduced for the first time, once again. Hopefully this is the last time, as well! But I think it well, I remember this now." A strange explanation, but not totally unusual for him. "So now that we've met, what can I do for you? Id this your home? Is this where we met before?"

Well, one thing that had to be said for this "new" meeting was that the conversation was interesting! He couldn't say it for sure, but he was pretty sure he'd never gotten into a conversation about death this early into an acquaintanceship. After all, just because a stallion has a cross on him doesn't mean he's macabre, right?

Though in fairness, the mare, Blossomforth, seemed more to be going with the flow than actually charging into the topic. Her commentary on his future death was interesting, but it was more the interesting of politeness than anything else. Or so he hoped; even if it was in the future, it was weird to be wishing anyone any particular sort of death. Not that he was one to talk about weirdness!

And now he was starting to get distracted again; back in line, Kildegard! Shaking his head again, he allowed himself to smile and glance off in the direction Blossomforth had indicated, looking back and wondering if it would jog any memories. Having no luck in that department, he looked back and grinned, albeit sheepishly. "Sorry, no memory jogs there, either, but it looks like a pleasant region! This whole region, that is, seems like a nice place to live." Too bad he didn't know where it was, or where it was in relation to his own home...if it could be called his home. After all, he spent more time wandering around in a fog than anything else; he was probably just a nomad.

But being a nomad had it's good points; it meant that he got to meet new people, even if they had strange ideas. "A mud bath? Believe me, you don't need to roll in the mud to make me remember you this time, THIS time my brain is firmly where it belongs. And surely you don't want me to remember you all brown and drippy, do you?" This was accompanied by a laugh; after all, it WOULD be memorable!

It sounded like a pretty nondescript place to live, as a matter of fact. But nondescript was pretty nice, all things considered; it meant no extremes, which consequently meant little adjustment when it came to the changing seasons. Kildegard had been places in the past where the temperature dropped so rapidly and so suddenly that it had made him lose all feeling in his nose, and other places where even his white hide seemed to heavy in the face of blazing sun. No, nondescript was definitely acceptable when it came to regional weather.

Besides, nondescript weather meant that there was more time to be out and about and enjoy one's self, if one's self was inclined towards outdoor pursuits. Outdoor pursuits like, for example, rolling in the mud. "Well, I can't really argue with that; but mud can be more than just a memory jogger. I'm not super-finicky myself, but I AM white. And the fact you are too makes you memorable enough on your own without mud or other embellishments. White's a pretty rare color, in my experience."

Which was pretty honest and accurate. Most friends he'd met were blue, or brown, or red or tan. Off the top of his head, he couldn't think of even one other predominantly white Soquili, himself and Blossomforth aside. Definitely a minority.

"And no...last time I remembered, I wasn't planning on going anywhere, so where and why I was going now is up in the air."

"Sounds like a sensible plan, Blossomforth; otherwise we'll just end up blending into the throngs of brownish Soquili out there. Brown is a very popular color for Soquilis, it seems...that, and blue. So yeah, let's avoid the mud!" Smiling, Kildegard returned the shoulder bump with only the faintest indications of surprise; being out of things most of the time left him a bit guarded when it came to physical gestures most of the time. But he was a gentleman; he wouldn't leave anyone hanging!

"A pasture sounds like a great plan. Grass stains aside, it seems like a great place to stay clean and grab a bite to eat. I would be glad to keep you company for a time; it's nice to be able to converse with someone other than myself for a change!" At that, he allowed himself to grin, glancing in the indicated direction but respectfully hanging back. "Ladies first, Blossomforth."

Right then. Squaring his shoulders, Kildegard started off after Blossomforth, keeping his stride short and a bit slower than usual to avoid overtaking the mare with his longer reach. It was a distinct negative in being tall and long-legged; unless the Soq you were following had similar physical characteristics, you ran the risk of literally overrunning them! And then they'd be trampled, at the worst, and at the best you'd be in the lead without having a single idea of where you were actually going! Which was an argument for always having the Soquili with the longest stride lead the way, but that again assumed that the longest-legged Soquili was always making the decisions. Which in turn was pretty unfair to the shorter Soquilis out there, as it would leave them destined to be the followers and never have a chance to direct activity by sheer virtue of physical characteristics beyond their control. Of course, one also had to consider short Soquilis with fast strides...

This was the way it often went. One idle thought, relevant to what he was doing or not, and his thoughts would start to run. A few more thoughts, and he was plummeting down a rabbit hole of mental chaos, his eyes glazing over and his movement becoming purely automatic.

"Mmhmm."

Kildegard's response was automatic, the sort of affirmative that one would deliver when asked a question that they hadn't really heard. And that was exactly what had happened. When Kildegard's thoughts carried him away, his entire consciousness became absorbed into the new thought process. Anything else that came his was was in one ear, out the other; his responses were distant and terse, as befitted some one wasn't really paying attention. One of the maddening (to others) elements of Kildegard's off condition was that as long as he was blanked out, he was on complete autopilot; anything that happened to him or that was told to him would be unremembered later.

Definitely didn't leave a lot of wiggle room for those that were dealing with him; in this case, Blossomforth.