[York is out in the graveyard today, somewhat predictably given recent circumstances. Three graves have fresh flowers on them today: his own, with a single yellow rose, Sister's, with a yellow-and-blue chrysanthemum arrangement, and Kat's, with pale blue winter roses. He speaks aloud to the grave, though the journal also picks it up.Shitty that
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[Guess they were wrong.]
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... I'm sure she went down fighting, no matter what. I'd talked to her a couple times, and got that vibe.
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[And he nods.] That's part of who she is. Maybe it's just propaganda that Spartans never die, but I know they never give up.
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Plus I let her play around with all the cool shit I have here.
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Still, this world ever changes to anything like home, the last thing I want is to be rusty.
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Might want to find some wood to knock on.
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