for blood and whiskey.
#8
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He had been around, long enough that in fact she knew she should have known him. Or at least known of him. Syemv wasn’t out of her memory, though she knew that they had been well acquainted with Chimera. Inferni too, though she knew that things had gone into disrepair eventually. Any agreements that had ever been between the two were long time, not that it mattered much anyway since Syemv was long gone. She thought to comment on all of it, thought almost to bring up what was surely a sordid history of life on the other side of the mountains, but her tongue held. If anything, some things were just better left unsaid.

“I spent some time in France with family,” she started out saying, “and then on another stint, I visited what was left of London. Or what maintained, anyway. As much of a port city as it is now, I’ve seen and heard my fair share of dialects.” Dialects were of course, not the only thing. But she long lost interest in languages outside of what she knew. “I never went very far east into the rest of the continent, after that. The last time I was on a boat, it was to come back here from much warmer climates.” And that had only been because of Marlowe; otherwise Corona imagined that she would have still been there in the remnants of Brazil.

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