[The Big Sister thinks it back to the woman. Kerrigan. It is not a name she has ever heard before. There’s a sound then – not the Big Sister’s trademark screech, but a strange liquid warble with a high, sharp edge. It doesn’t sound like speech. And yet, it’s three syllables and if the woman listens closely, she can almost hear them: Kerr-i-gan, distorted past comprehension by anyone without access to the Big Sister's mind.
It seems, to the Big Sister, like a name worth remembering.
no subject
It seems, to the Big Sister, like a name worth remembering.
She nods once, and leaves the woman in peace.]