Nalia furrowed her brows at the woman’s mentioning of the year and an apocalypse. “That’s....weird. My sister and I passed away long after 2018. There was no apocalypse or remotely apocalyptic event. Well, there was a pandemic that started in late 2019, but that was just a shitshow. Hardly an Earth-destroying event.” She was still frustrated by the way it was handled, but hey, at least they survived it. Too bad they couldn’t survive the car crash. With a sigh she shook her head, knocking the memory away. That was not how she pictured her death.<br/><br/>“oh my god, Freddie. We need to work on those insecurities of yours.” Nalia placed her hands on the man’s shoulders and forced him to look her in the eye. “You are a legend. You will always be a legend. Yes, people were still listening to your music in 2018. At least in our version of earth. I can’t say the same about the world of our apocalyptic Californian-Floridian friend here, but I can guarantee you, you made your mark, and it was strong. So strong. You not only rocked hard, you kicked total ass doing it. I. Promise. You. Nearly 30 years after your passing you were still a hot topic and an inspiration for so many in so many ways. And, say, 100 years from then the kids finally do stop listening to your music, I can guarantee whatever they’re listening to, whatever freedoms and life choices and truths they are living, would not exist if it hadn’t been for you. You made your mark on history. You, sir, will always be relevant. Do you understand me? Now. Please. For the love all that is good, stop worrying so damn much. You’re dead! Leave the worrying for the living!” She then turned and grabbed a glass and poured him some ale, to which she also poured herself a glass and then raising it to the two of them. “A toast, to leaving behind our lives, as good or as bad as they may have been, to finding ourselves anew, and being proud of who we’d been in life, and proud of who we will become in death.”