(no subject)
Imriel is not having a good day.
He hasn't been having a good week, really.
In fact, very little has been good since November.
Your mother sends her love, Canis had said. And then a loud noise, and a bright light, and a city full of strangeness and death in equal measure.
He's learned two new languages in this strange and deathly world-- well, one and a half; French is disturbingly close to D'Angeline, when it comes to it.
And now?
Now he's walking into the city of Montreal and wondering if this will be the fifteenth day without human company. Talking to himself gets old, even with a multitude of tongues to do it in.
He hasn't been having a good week, really.
In fact, very little has been good since November.
Your mother sends her love, Canis had said. And then a loud noise, and a bright light, and a city full of strangeness and death in equal measure.
He's learned two new languages in this strange and deathly world-- well, one and a half; French is disturbingly close to D'Angeline, when it comes to it.
And now?
Now he's walking into the city of Montreal and wondering if this will be the fifteenth day without human company. Talking to himself gets old, even with a multitude of tongues to do it in.