"That's--that's good."

Hug?

Yes please.

Hug.

She is not quite actively crying but her breathing is noticeably hitched.

That's okay.

Yeah.

"I don't--quite know what to do, here."

"You could probably bother the flat Macalaurë about artifact magic, I'm sure he knows at least enough you could test it. But - if I were you I'd want some time off -"

"I--I don't quite--know how. I've--had to be on, constantly, every waking moment and some of the sleeping ones--for years--and when I try to just do nothing all my hard-won survival instincts start screaming at me--"

"For a while Tyelcormo was organizing endless sailing regattas, that's an option."

"I--maybe? I don't know how to sail, I guess I could learn."

"Your alt picked it up pretty fast."

"Okay."

"We should've grabbed some therapists or something."

"Was that an option?"

"We briefly opened the door into Abaddon and grabbed a bunch of people with relevant expertise, I didn't think of therapists."

"Oh well."

"My alt probably couldn't use it anyway."

"Hm?"

"He's got issues of the sort therapy conventionally handles but his might be awfully intractable."

"If I shouldn't ask any more about it then I won't."

"No, no, it's all in the files, but - the war was awful and he doesn't have any reasons to keep existing now that he's got alts."

"Um."

"You can ask him if you want, I don't think he minds talking about it."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"