( she actually takes a moment to consider that in depth. she did learn to speak from her parents and from charles, but everything past a certain point, she knows only from books or teachers handing books over to her to be read. like it stopped being a family effort.

a hard swallow and she looks down. in some ways, of course, it did. stop.

she doesn't look up as she replies, )

Sometimes there are no generations or parents. Sometimes, ink on paper is all there's left of them. ( she thinks about her father's library. then, she thinks about charles. slowly, she looks back up. ) Were they good teachers, those who passed those things on to you?