What little he regained came slowly and disappeared quickly. It was as though his brain was a shattered glass, and there was only so much he could hold in it before it spilled out once again.
Ouch.
So they’d patiently worked with him, helping him to hobble between the bedroom, living room and bathroom. They’d worked with him until he could mostly feed himself, say what needed to be said, and they didn’t push him to do more.
Yes, good. Patience and support is key here.
Victoria was in costume as Glory Girl, but she was unclipping a bib from around his neck, something to ensure he didn’t stain his clothes while he ate.
I wonder what it’s like from within. By the sound of it, he retains his memories of knowledge and events, so he’s probably consciously aware of the change, of the infantile state he’s ended up in on the skills front, of the burden this turn of events puts on those he loves.
Of Amy’s power.
Amy’s adoptive father turned and smiled gently as he saw the other two members of his family. It was all Amy could do to maintain eye contact, smile back.
And of course Amy is guiltridden over it.
I know the story is written by the seat of the pants, but I wonder how long ahead Wildbow was thinking that something like this should happen. The dilemma Amy is in right now, between her unwillingness to mess with the brain and someone close to her ending up with a form of brain damage, seems quite solidly built up to through establishment and reinforcement of the former where there wasn’t really much narrative need to go into that at the time, going back all the way to Interlude 2.
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