Demeter's thoughts were running parallel to her brother's - there could be no talk of Persephone, at least not yet. They would have to start far from that. It seemed like silence was going to eat away at them if one didn't speak soon and so, after taking a sip of her drink, Demeter began.
"My first memory of this country is of Greek immigrants," she said, turning the glass in her hand and watching the liquor slide against it. "Cold and mistreated and hungry they all were, and it pained me that I could do so little for them, especially in the beginning. They whispered stories of all of us to their children and I listened at night while the ship rocked itself upon the angry sea. They had all lost so much and come so far in hopes of a new beginning that would be better than what they had left. They had crossed the seas with such hope and courage in their hearts and I admired that in them. I wanted so much in those early days to care for them like my very own children, but I was almost as powerless as they were."