[ There's a voice not to be recognized. And wouldn't she know--after years and years and a century more? There's a voice she doesn't recognize, and it's calling her name.
Her eyes drag up to meet his, violet touching green. No. She doesn't know him. ]
...That's one of my names.
[ There's a slur in the words, and she pretends not to hear it. Furude Rika, and Frederica Bernkastel, and here, apparently, Jeanne Isabelle.
None of them, she thinks; none of them are really hers. ]
no subject
Her eyes drag up to meet his, violet touching green. No. She doesn't know him. ]
...That's one of my names.
[ There's a slur in the words, and she pretends not to hear it. Furude Rika, and Frederica Bernkastel, and here, apparently, Jeanne Isabelle.
None of them, she thinks; none of them are really hers. ]