"New York City," Abigail breathes, the name feeling and sounding alien in her Tortallan accent. "United States of America."
When she was young, her father told her to repeat things until she made a memory and could recall them: the fair price of grain, how many tankards are in a barrel, the recipe for brown bread.
She doesn't think she'll forget this, but she repeats the names anyway.
"Is it like here?" she asks after a while. "Older, I suppose. Goddess knows we're a long ways from... 1999."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-05-02 10:38 pm (UTC)When she was young, her father told her to repeat things until she made a memory and could recall them: the fair price of grain, how many tankards are in a barrel, the recipe for brown bread.
She doesn't think she'll forget this, but she repeats the names anyway.
"Is it like here?" she asks after a while. "Older, I suppose. Goddess knows we're a long ways from... 1999."