Somehow, Niniel had known that that question would come. After all, it was only natural to be interested in the history of the person with whom you held conversation, but...it was not an easy question to answer. Sometimes, when she answered truthfully, she was called liar; other times, she was called cursed. Both types of people shunned her for it. Dynaviir seemed to be pleasant, she didn't want to alienate him, but she owed him a truthful answer.
"I--I don't re-remember," she said. "I--I honestly d-d-don't. I--I'm so gl-gla-glad that you c-c-can re-remem-remember your father. I can't re-remember if I even had a f-f-father. I c-c-can't re-remember anything. I--I don't kn-n-now where I--I come from, I don't even know my right name. I-i-it's not Niniel, that much I--I do know."
She mentally cursed the stutter that made her sound so foolish. She hated sounding like some sort of halfwit, but what could she do? She'd had it for nine years, since she was sixteen. And as long as she could remember. She hated the way that it made her sound afraid all the time.
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