The face that greeted her reminded her of a past long buried. It did each time she saw Ishmael. It reminded her of a night in New York over a century ago. It reminded her of a court she had once known. There were subtle differences of course, small quirks and edges of the bones, but it didn’t quell the lurking memories that pushed at the edges of her thoughts whenever she ran into the younger vampire. Ishmael had never mentioned that he had known her before the forest and Galina had never mentioned it to him, but she wondered… Wondered if he knew. If he had ever guessed or remembered what had happened that night in New York’s Holy Grounds.

“Ishmael.” Galina greeted the man before her with a polite tilt of her head and a small smile on her lips. With the mention of civilization Galina couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled over her lips. She’d never given up on civilization, never hated the idea. Indeed, she rather preferred cities and towns to the forests and fields that Mari rather liked. But that was just the thing, Mari had never really known the glamor and thrall of a town the way Galina had. She’d known a small village that had been massacred and then the wilderness of a land not yet discovered. It was for Mari’s sake that Galina called a cavern and forest a home. That she made do with moss beds instead of feather beds and rocks for seats instead of the chaise longues she had once known. But her love for Mari had not embittered her to this fact. She longed for civilization and hoped to sway Mari, to sway those around her to one day to form a civilization of their own. But until that time, yes, she supposed Ishmael was right. “You could say that.” Galina replied with the merry twinkle of amusement in her eye at the private joke.

How long had it been since she and Mari had last settled in a city? Several decades, Galina felt sure of that and never long at once. Mari had always managed to unsettle the people around them - even if they hadn’t known it had been her. They were lucky if they made it through a year before the talk of a killer in the city got too dangerously close. Then Galina would pack their bags and they’d set off again. Sometimes Galina wondered if Mari had done it purposely, to try and drive Galina from their surroundings before she could get too entrenched, too attached. It had been at the back of her mind when they found their current home that Mari would be content with such a compromise, that she might see what Galina saw, and understand the desire to stay and build something. Yet now Mari wasn’t there, the worry gnawed at Galina, the reason clear. It hadn’t been compromise enough. Not this time.

Standing on the doorstep Galina began to wonder if Ishamel might invite her in. He had seemed genuine in his offer only a few years ago, but one never did know. Especially not when it came to their kind. But then he offered her a crooked smile and she chuckled as he gestured her in. “Thank you.” Galina demured as she passed by him into the ramshackle house.

“Much like every city.” Galina admitted as she drew the hood from her braided bronze hair, letting it fall to her shoulders as she drew the cloak from around herself, the dark midnight fabric rippling silently into well known folds. How many cities had Galina been in during her long life? Surely too many to count. But an amused smile played at her lips. “The people all seem to think their city different then the rest, but really how different are they? They all have the same patterns, the same bustle of movement. What changes are the languages, the buildings, the faces.” Galina shrugged, as if she didn’t miss cities. “Don’t you find them much the same?” She asked, after all, Ishmael was only a few decades younger than her and she was quite certain he had seen his own fill of cities during his travels. For they were very far from where she had first found him.