(Untitled)

[byweavinglives]

Quiet week, isn't it?

[Saya will never be the first to say no curses but she's thinking it]

I remember something, from long ago. An invasion. Around this time of year. I remember locking the Warehouse.

It was a long time ago, but I was only twenty-six.

I'm sorry the warm weather didn't last longer.

[That's how one uses I'm sorry, right?]

Comments

video;

[dignity_misery]

Only twenty-six?

[No, she doesn't fixate on people's ages at all.]

[byweavinglives]

[Saya is sitting over her desk, a motor in her lap.]

I was, four years ago. But I'm twenty-seven, now.

[dignity_misery]

That's a strange memory to have.

[But Carla has some strange memories of her own, and she accepts it.]

[byweavinglives]

It's from when I lived here the first time. As opposed to now.

[dignity_misery]

[Quiet.]

So you went back, to whatever was before citizenship?

[Walking. Sisters.]

[byweavinglives]

New York.

[dignity_misery]

Hm.

[Carla was aware that she had grown up in New York, but those memories were a haze most days. She puts them aside.]

Had you missed anything?

[byweavinglives]

Here or there?

[dignity_misery]

Both, maybe.

[Although Carla's mind was most closely concerned with what Barbet would say to her, if she came back from this place.]

[byweavinglives]

I didn't miss here.

I didn't miss home, either. Not until Socrates left.

[dignity_misery]

Anyone miss you?

[Carla keeps the bad joke about being too young to know Socrates to herself.]

[byweavinglives]

My family, I would imagine. Here, no one.

[dignity_misery]

[This is a little too much inter-dimensional nonsense for her.]

And it's too quiet here this week?

[byweavinglives]

No curses.

[dignity_misery]

You're that used to them then.

[She's only been through one herself. She can't even imagine.]

[byweavinglives]

Of course. Everyone can get used to something designed to create misery.