[ It's not fair to say she does not remember the dead. She knows what death looks like, if she tries she can even remember their faces or their names, but... There is no emotion attached to it. She has seen so much of it that it is all one long chain of thought, bodies upon bodies, the familiar smell of spoiling meet, the sounds of tearing flesh. ]
I tried not to dwell on what came before. Nor think on what was to come.
[ It was a precarious game of survival, simply trying to keep herself from fracturing, to make it to the next day with her life and her mind intact.
Rather than focus on that concept, in fact, Ilde's attention drifts through the garden, watching the way in which others interact with the memory banks. Some sit perfectly still, watching something on their interface privately, others interact with tiny little holograms which they speak to, cry with. She looks around at the nodes nearest to herself, choosing one to activate... ]
My name is Callendre Vasantize, loving mother of four...
[ A voice speaks from the interface, and visions of said loving mother playing with her four beautiful daughters begins jitter across the visual. Ilde is, quiet honestly, transfixed by it. A pang in her heart, sad jealousy for what it might have been like to have been one of those daughters, to have something sweet to remember. ]
no subject
I tried not to dwell on what came before. Nor think on what was to come.
[ It was a precarious game of survival, simply trying to keep herself from fracturing, to make it to the next day with her life and her mind intact.
Rather than focus on that concept, in fact, Ilde's attention drifts through the garden, watching the way in which others interact with the memory banks. Some sit perfectly still, watching something on their interface privately, others interact with tiny little holograms which they speak to, cry with. She looks around at the nodes nearest to herself, choosing one to activate... ]
My name is Callendre Vasantize, loving mother of four...
[ A voice speaks from the interface, and visions of said loving mother playing with her four beautiful daughters begins jitter across the visual. Ilde is, quiet honestly, transfixed by it. A pang in her heart, sad jealousy for what it might have been like to have been one of those daughters, to have something sweet to remember. ]