"No?" She arcs a brow slightly and then gives a shake of her head.
Her small shoulders roll into a shrug and she continues toying with that tattered skirt, not really having anything better to do with her hands. "Do you know for certain?" She asks softly. "Some things.. some things are not meant to be remembered."
Her head dips faintly, hair falling over her face. "I have a friend who was.. killed, torn apart, and his head set adrift on the sea. He is here now, with his head. I think.. we are living in a time.. after our end.. "