"It's... fuzzy," she says. "It's hard to explain. I<em>know</em>things, but I don't know why I know them, or even what most of them mean. I know that an M-16 holds twenty or thirty rounds in most clips, but I haven't the faintest idea what any of that means, until I think about it, and each word makes sense, but tying them together is... difficult. Though I have a feeling I could disassemble one in a very short amount of time. I also know the common mating rituals of at least fifty different species, from bugbears, to manticores to seventeen different subspecies of goblin. But, yes, I have no memories of any existence prior to landing on the rooftop, last night."<br/><br/>She takes the drink from the waitress, and downs half the mug in a single swallow. "Unfortunately, as the only witnesses to the spell are yourself, and the now-dead mortal who was riding on the bones that make up my frame, I can't answer that. I don't know what you did, because you don't know what you did; all I feel when I think of it is a panicked, rushing surge of energy coming from at least three different directions at the same time. I suspect it'd be like having three different people shouting pieces of a sentence in your ear at the same time, and trying to understand the single message.