"That's the idea, just...gimmie a moment to get my head together on it. It's hard to think about." And one is not oneself when one is hungry; River goes at her food for a bit, but her ears never really go back to normal, not even when she's making happy food sounds.

It's hard to think about, is the thing.

"...I haven't...talked much about what I was doing to get killed, have I? Bits and pieces, pretty sure the 'got an axe in the spine from a pirate' story has gone around, but..."

"...Someone's got shackles on death. Capital D Death, the big one, First Singer of the Death Choir, Creation's Shadow, whom elves call Aphrael, the Rebel. Highest and lowest of the angels. She's in chains, and she's suffering, and we're...trying to fix that. Getting pretty close too, and then I died. And I don't regret it? I died the kinda death old warriors pretend they wanted, weapon in hand, boots on, fighting a skilled opponent, really couldn't ask for more. Maybe, maybe if I get up I can still help. Maybe it's so important that I shouldn't even think about not doing that."

"But y'know, sometimes, here? I wake up happy. And I don't do that at home."