"They think they can take magic god Valar."

"Well, that'd be fantastic. Also means we now have a Macalaurë, yes?"

"We do."

"I don't have the faintest idea how to schedule a concert with Milliways being Milliways but we should schedule a concert - Cam, can I have complete works of my alt in that world, mostly out of idle curiosity -"

Cam hands him a soft copy.

"Thanks." And he pockets it and heads upstairs with his tray of drinks.

And he rests his head on Cam's shoulder and sighs.

Snuggles. Oatmeal.

And this is the point at which he asks magic-Idaia-who-can-make-stuff for clothes!

Meanwhile, Edie is finally contacted by Ozymandias Tyelcormo.

Yes?

Uh, we should go get food or something, and neither of us have any clothes.

Oh, so the literally destroying each other's clothing getting each other out of them thing isn't deterred by neither of you being a demon? I'll come up, pull a blanket over yourselves.

"I'm heading in for a bit, your alt needs me to provide material objects," she tells her boyfriend.

"Okay."  

He is intermittently eating popsicles and hugging everyone and crying and trying to explain chips and stuff to them.

She hugs him and makes a cooler full of enough popsicles to tide them over for a while in case Milliways time subjectivity decides to fuck with them and goes inside.

He is still clinging to Idaia and murmuring her name.

"I should probably have a conversation with my boyfriend about all this at some point," she muses. "Anyway. Food and clothes. Preferences?"

"Not really." Idaia-squeeze.

"Can you think of any preferences she's likely to have?"

He sends some things Idaia used to like wearing and eating. This makes him sad so he cuddles her more.

So Edie makes a nice pretty wooden wardrobe containing a mix of replicas of Idaia's favorite outfits from Valinor and things Edie guesses she'll like based on their altlyness and a differently-carved wardrobe containing mostly replicas of things she's put her Tyelcormo in without him objecting, because there was something vaguely depressing about his work uniform, and a fridge full of assorted appropriate foods and a box full of nonperishables.

"Thank you very much."

"You're welcome." She sits down carefully on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad you two are alright."

"She's alive."

"Maybe at some point we can even figure out how."

"Yeah, maybe. Did you get the whole story?"