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Dec 16, 2018 1:01 PM
Experimental Theologian Ford Pines and Deseretian Rebecca in Milliways
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"Yes, thank you."

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A clock appears, ticking.

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"Thank you!" He carefully takes the clock, then goes to sit at a table facing away from the non-witch to add the new information about time dilation and notes about his encounter with the woman and baby to his notebook, assuming that he can do so without waking her up if he uses his other hand.

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He can do this, though she does stir and make a noise before settling back down to drool on another part of his shirt.

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(Zombi-baby saliva doesn't seem to be particularly dangerous, and he's lost shirts to monster fluids for worse reasons even if it is. What a cozy, sleepy injured baby.)

He adds speculation about what might have happened to them and how and why in the margins of his notes in a simple Julian cipher, on the grounds that one shouldn't have plaintext speculation about brainwashing via intercision or reversing the effects thereof, even in a temporary set of notes.

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Rebecca sits up after a bit. "Uh," she says, sounding much better, "mister armadillo-wearing dude?"

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He turns, relieved. "Ma'am?"

It might be rude to correct the witch-or-zombi about his soul being a pangolin, so he doesn't, although she climbs to stare at the woman over his head.

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"Thanks for watching Catherine, that must have been forever, I feel so much better, did she not wake up?"

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"Good! It was no trouble. She didn't, but time sometimes passes at different rates here, for people who can't see each other. Do you want to take her back?"

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"Yes please." Scoop.

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Deposit!

"Now that you're better rested, and I'm sorry if this is rude, but did something happen to your souls?"

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"I think our souls are fine? I mean, she hasn't been baptized yet, but I think our souls are fine."

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"No, I mean, your souls aren't with you? Regardless of their state of salvation?" He looks baffled.

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"Where... else would... they be?"

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"I don't know! Mine is right here," the pangolin waves, "but if yours are missing and you don't know where they are, that's probably bad?"

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"Your soul is an armadillo?"

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"She's a pangolin, actually, but yes?"

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"Um... why? Is your spirit a mandolin?"

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"Because she settled as one when I was thirteen, and it was the most appropriate shape for her? What species is yours?"

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"I'm a human? You mostly look like a human but with a mandolin."

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"I am a human! All humans have souls shaped like other animals? I thought you might be a witch instead of a human, because witches can go places without their souls, but you said you said you weren't allowed to be one? And I don't think even witch babies are supposed to be away from their souls?"

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"Somehow you are managing not to make sense even now that I'm not so sleep deprived."

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"I'm sorry. I'm worried because it looks like your souls, where by 'soul' I mean the part of you that takes the form of a talking animal and helps you have feelings and make decisions and interact with people, are not here. Are any parts of that wrong or confusing?"

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"Yyyyes, the part where you expect us to have animals that do those things. That's confusing."

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"You don't have them at all?"

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