The Forgotten...? ••• 𝐂.𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐥

(8) 𝐍ot knowing their own past

☟︎︎︎NOT IMPORTANT☟︎︎︎
Just an explanation about the slanted writing and Lucia's/ her books power thingy/ memory and how it was sort of made.

So the slanted sentences and paragraphs are from the past, not a flashback but they are projected up from the book and shown in like a mercy cloud, like Bruno's but not sand. It's just like clouds, like a dream. They didn't have like videos back then I don't think, so this isn't like video recorded she's talking as if the book is recording it but it will be a part of her memory which means it will sort of be saved in the book and that's what I mean. That how it's being shown if you get what I mean, if u don't I'll rewrite it.
Anyway yeah, hope you enjoy the long paragraph.

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Narrator's POV:

"It's working fine... I think..." A girl with  unsteady chocolate brown curls, unsurely stated, staring down at what the others could make out was a book? Lucia's book.

"Well, it doesn't matter! If it isn't working it's just another practice session. Right?" She giggled, waiting for someone's response.
"U-uh, yeah. Yeah!" The same voice from a couple of seconds ago answered followed by objects falling or being knocked over.
"A-ah, be careful! Suricata!" The young child yelped, shooting her hands up in fright, freezing as whatever was knocked over was placed back to its original place with a quiet 'clank'.

"It's fine! It's fine! Let's get started." The voice hummed, accompanied by a few hushed taps against a wooden surface afterwards as the unknown man awaited minutes for the child to go make a move or to start speaking. When he noticed she had, quite literally, frozen, he decided it would be best to build up her confidence with some optimistic motivation.
"Go on, Lucia. You've got this!" The voice cheered, attempting to encourage the little girl. The others couldn't quite place it but they were positive they have heard it before.

"Um... Well, ok. Let's get started." The young girl hummed to herself, clapping her hands and rubbing them together, warming herself up.
"So... Hi! I'm Lucia Mad-ri-gal..." The child paused, after slowly pronouncing her last name she began thinking upon the next words she should say as her fingers, harshly, squeeze into the backs of her hands.
"I'm... Uh- I- I can be..." She started, before looking away, somewhere the others couldn't see.

The others couldn't see who she was looking at but when they heard a small whisper encouraging her to continue, they almost, instantly knew who It was.
"Who's talking to her?" Camilo asked, looking away from the projected image and to his female family members that surrounded him.
"That... that's Tío Bruno!" Dolores clarified, eyes wide she stared at the moments shown before her, not taking her eyes off of the scene. The memory of the famed villainess, Lucia Madrigal. The person who left this family with spite and hate turned her down the path of evil was once a young and innocent child? Really? Revenge can change a person so much over the space of a couple of years?

"Hehe... Yep! Got it, papá Bruno." The tiny girl giggled, nervously fiddling with a strand of puffy, barely curly hair as she turned her attention back to them or the audience who she wanted to watch this.
"I'm Lucia Madrigal and I can reconnect with the past. Which means... I-i uh-" she paused, unsure of herself before glancing up again to Bruno as he nodded his head vigorously, trying to encourage his, technical, adoptive daughter.
"So that means... that- that I can physically and mentally project memories and watch over them from within this book." Lucia chirped, leaning forward, pushing on her crisscrossed legs and heavily, tapping the book with two fingers. Since the others couldn't reach without her tumbling off of the bed.

"I can also show memories without the book!" She exclaimed, waving her hands around nervously.
"The book just, um-keeps them on an object everyone can see?" She upturned her voice, looking over to Bruno again, her eyes glancing over to him and the book, pleadingly. She began to fidget with her skirt and the frills and seems, mumbling to herself random words and sentences.