"Maybe," Sal hesitantly agrees. She's never really sure of her own actions, but if anyone is wise enough to determine such things then obviously it should be Anathema. Trusting in that, she holds those words close to her heart.
"But enough about how I've screwed things up back home," she says. "What about you?"
She's not really used to asking these kinds of delicate questions; or, well, she was starting to figure it out once. At least before being hurled back into the giant pile of birdshit back home. Now—it's like Anathema said before, months ago. All of these memories of other worlds clashing into one another, lives diverging in different directions.
It's both complicated and annoying, so her need to fiddle around finally wins out. She reaches over the table for the first aid kit, digging around until she grabs hold of a bandaid. Peeling back the paper wrapping, she continues, "I guess not as much time has gone by, but if experience teaches us any fucking thing, it's that you can pack a hell of a lot of disasters in just a few weeks."
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"But enough about how I've screwed things up back home," she says. "What about you?"
She's not really used to asking these kinds of delicate questions; or, well, she was starting to figure it out once. At least before being hurled back into the giant pile of birdshit back home. Now—it's like Anathema said before, months ago. All of these memories of other worlds clashing into one another, lives diverging in different directions.
It's both complicated and annoying, so her need to fiddle around finally wins out. She reaches over the table for the first aid kit, digging around until she grabs hold of a bandaid. Peeling back the paper wrapping, she continues, "I guess not as much time has gone by, but if experience teaches us any fucking thing, it's that you can pack a hell of a lot of disasters in just a few weeks."