bound for flames
#11
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let the dogs bite at your ankles

“They are fascinating,” Corona remarked as she briefly looked over the label on the wine bottle before opening it. “But sometimes I wonder if history will repeat itself. Or if we'll follow in their footsteps.” She doubted such a thing would happen in their time, but it was always a possibility. They could master firearms beyond what they had. Make their own. Figure out electricity and use that to their advantage. It had always been a game of survival and as it were, the world that they were living in was still behind the times. Most of them will ran around without clothes, most of them still fought with tooth and claw.



“This place isn't so funny though, at least not to me,” she continued on after she had taken a drink. She didn't consider its taste, though it was enjoyable. “Overseas… France, that was a funny place. Everyone prattling about in their clothes and speaking in tongues. You know, I read in one of those books that man wrote that our ancestors weren't actually all that intelligent. We were supposed to be simple, yet have some sort of complex hierarchy like the rest of the world. Yet we evolved, somehow.” That to say whether or not their so-called evolution was that at all, or jus a by-product of nature playing its own little game.

let the sunshine burn your eyes
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