[Give her a fiver, she needs time to digest that.]
It just kills them? [Sounds like the Hollywood dream factory. Never grow old, die young and beautiful and tragic. Marketable. Camille shakes her head.] I don't get it, what kind of curse is that? What's the point?
W-we don't know. Sometimes it happens earlier, but... everyone develops symptoms by the time they're around twenty-two at the latest... a-and no kind of treatment will stop it. Medicines won't... prolong anyone's life past that age.
[Christ, what kind of world must that be? She can't imagine what state the economy is in. The government. A country ruled by hormonal waifs with a death sentence.
What a nightmare.]
How did it become a curse? You guys piss off a wizard?
I-it's been like that as long as we're aware of... um, we were able to develop ways to get around it, but even a cloned body will only live for twenty-three years.
So no record of what went wrong. But you all know that it's not natural — either you have history to tell you that or people from other places.
[Something pauses in her. Is this really productive? She's not going to solve his mystery from a hundred lightyears away, and they don't know shit about each other.
Camille grimaces, then puts on a smile.]
Hey, for what it's worth? We old folks aren't so scary. Just people with extra dings and scrapes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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finally, he manages to emerge from his spot, hands fidgeting with the cloth of his coat.]
S-sorry... I didn't mean to stare, Madame...
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[Here, she'll meet him halfway, taking a soft step or two closer. Her hands tuck into her back pockets and the smile stays congenial.]
Not a big people person?
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[he's peak levels of shut-in, is the problem.]
Um, and I don't usually... see people who look like you.
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[Even if she only qualifies by a slim margin. Wild guess here.]
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[which is unfortunate, because his actual answer is-]
I... I meant your age.
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Boarding school?
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[what is that. arpechele doesn't have those, i'm pretty sure.]
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[But that's not it.]
You're telling me you've never seen a woman over thirty?
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[it's worse, actually.]
I've never seen anyone over twenty-three...
1/2
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[Or is it Children of the Corn? He may not have that backwater twang but maybe they made a euro-twink spin-off.]
Why not? Do they shoot you on your birthday or something?
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[he's too french for children of the corn, for sure.]
N-nobody shoots anyone-! [you mean with arrows right? arrows, right-] We just don't... live past then...
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Maybe that's just his disposition though.]
Why not?
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[so, you know, probably still supremely sus. sorry camille.]
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It just kills them? [Sounds like the Hollywood dream factory. Never grow old, die young and beautiful and tragic. Marketable. Camille shakes her head.] I don't get it, what kind of curse is that? What's the point?
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[there's no cure for it, just inevitable death.]
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[Christ, what kind of world must that be? She can't imagine what state the economy is in. The government. A country ruled by hormonal waifs with a death sentence.
What a nightmare.]
How did it become a curse? You guys piss off a wizard?
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[what government! this is a monarchy, ma'am.]
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[Something pauses in her. Is this really productive? She's not going to solve his mystery from a hundred lightyears away, and they don't know shit about each other.
Camille grimaces, then puts on a smile.]
Hey, for what it's worth? We old folks aren't so scary. Just people with extra dings and scrapes.