[Miriam listened almost as intently as the painter seemed to be; the names of the places were unfamiliar to her, but the history itself less so. Industry might have just started luring people to cities in her time, but military service had been uprooting people for ages before that.

She appreciated how honest he was, though. Perhaps she should have been more upfront, herself.

But the painter's next question made that a...more difficult prospect than Miriam anticipated. She didn't want to just drop the gloomy thoughts lurking in her mind in the middle of this room and leave, but she didn't want to be shallow and cagey. The Shardbinder had a feeling the painter could see far more than it seemed, if her comment about the Shards was any indication.]

For me, it's...complicated.

I am grateful the Guild took me in off the streets, gave me a place to live. [But a rare bit of anger floats to the surface, making it to Miriam's voice as her fingers tense.] I'll never forgive what they've done to me. To others like me.

[And then it drifted away, wrangled back under control. The Shardbinder's tensed hand relaxed, and she sighed quietly through her nose.]

But that's not my judgment to give any longer. The Guild was destroyed long ago, and the alchemists... [her voice momentarily goes a bit quieter, sadder, as she drops the s. There was just one now.] That remain, I bear no ill will to.