( the carmen who giovanni loved, and who netzach retains those distant memories of. the carmen who gained the trust and admiration of everyone, from those in the nest to fixers from hopeless backstreets. the carmen who had whispered to her just how she could become free, how she could get her revenge, if only she collected the light again— if only she made that perfect book, filled it with all sorts of information and pages about the city and its inhabitants...
she isn't stupid. she knows, in her heart of hearts, it was carmen gently guiding her along. if only the seeds sewn in the inhabitants of that city weren't so pitiful and weak, perhaps they wouldn't be at risk of distorting—maybe they, too, would be able to summon e.g.o.s instead.
they'd probably just end up another tool for the city to capitalize on though. the disease carmen and the others had wanted to cure—angela had always wondered what it was. not that she cared, but as a point of curiosity, she...
well. she knows now, or she thinks she might. angela sighs, smacking aside a plant that reaches to bite her hand. )
Rather, the probability of it being a different person is slim.
( ...and, for obvious reasons, that's all she says. )
no subject
( the carmen who giovanni loved, and who netzach retains those distant memories of. the carmen who gained the trust and admiration of everyone, from those in the nest to fixers from hopeless backstreets. the carmen who had whispered to her just how she could become free, how she could get her revenge, if only she collected the light again— if only she made that perfect book, filled it with all sorts of information and pages about the city and its inhabitants...
she isn't stupid. she knows, in her heart of hearts, it was carmen gently guiding her along. if only the seeds sewn in the inhabitants of that city weren't so pitiful and weak, perhaps they wouldn't be at risk of distorting—maybe they, too, would be able to summon e.g.o.s instead.
they'd probably just end up another tool for the city to capitalize on though. the disease carmen and the others had wanted to cure—angela had always wondered what it was. not that she cared, but as a point of curiosity, she...
well. she knows now, or she thinks she might. angela sighs, smacking aside a plant that reaches to bite her hand. )
Rather, the probability of it being a different person is slim.
( ...and, for obvious reasons, that's all she says. )