[ She huffs out a breath at the comment about language. She's fluent in four, including English, and while she'd used most of them for blending in (with the French countryside during the occupation) or codebreaking (German, Russian) for work, it's still a loss she feels keenly. And Peggy nods at the rest; makes sense, holding on to the vestiges of home when you're so far from it. Societies have done that for centuries as the world grew larger. And now it's grown beyond the borders of Earth β both here and in Cain's world.
Strange, to think that the cities she called home no longer exist in 2511. Does that mean they need to keep those memories alive now too? Art, music, literature, film. Ancient history. Anachronistic, just like her style.
Peggy glances from Cain to the city beyond at his question. It's a hard thing to answer because he has no memory of a place his family called home and hers... isn't a pleasant one. But she wouldn't lie to him, either, so: ]
Cold. [ Stalingrad, 1945. She can still feel the bite of winter through her clothes, hear the gunfire echoing through a snowy forest (maybe because the memory had been dug back up in the dreams). ] A blizzard had trapped half our battalion in enemy territory and a blockade stood between us and them. We fought our way to our boys, in the end. Got them out. But it had been a harrowing few weeks.
[ She takes a sip of her drink, then sets it back down on the inner edge of the railing, perfectly balanced. Her lips press together in an apologetic smile and she looks back to Cain. ]
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Strange, to think that the cities she called home no longer exist in 2511. Does that mean they need to keep those memories alive now too? Art, music, literature, film. Ancient history. Anachronistic, just like her style.
Peggy glances from Cain to the city beyond at his question. It's a hard thing to answer because he has no memory of a place his family called home and hers... isn't a pleasant one. But she wouldn't lie to him, either, so: ]
Cold. [ Stalingrad, 1945. She can still feel the bite of winter through her clothes, hear the gunfire echoing through a snowy forest (maybe because the memory had been dug back up in the dreams). ] A blizzard had trapped half our battalion in enemy territory and a blockade stood between us and them. We fought our way to our boys, in the end. Got them out. But it had been a harrowing few weeks.
[ She takes a sip of her drink, then sets it back down on the inner edge of the railing, perfectly balanced. Her lips press together in an apologetic smile and she looks back to Cain. ]
Probably not the story you wanted to hear.