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Oct 18, 2021 7:51 AM
a bunch of Jamies walk into a bar
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Just a bit more to the left... 

He tilts the pick just the slightest amount, and then turns the lock, giving it a satisfied smile when it opens smoothly. Carefully, he pushes the door open and peers inside. 

 

"...You know," he muses to no one in particular, "If I were going to accuse anyone of replacing the inside of their house with a tavern, I definitely wouldn't have picked Carlotta Valentia." 

He slips through the door, rising from his crouch to look around. 

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It's an empty tavern. There are some tables and booths here and there, and nearby is a window, through which he can see blackness interspersed by distant explosions. 

Farther in, there is a bar. There is no bartender, however. 

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Well, this is a little outside his experience. It's not really Sanguine's aesthetic. If it were him Gaemir expects there'd be at least a few other patrons around. Still, he doesn't have any other likely theories.

He wanders up to the bar, "Is this you, Sam?" He asks of the air. 

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If it is, he isn't answering. Unless this napkin is his doing, that is. 

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Huh. He picks up the napkin, peering down at the writing on it. 

 

"...Alright, sure, I'll have a drink." 

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Thirty minutes later, he is sat on one of the barstools, chatting idly with Bar in between sips of his third drink. 

"-and all the ingredients can be found in Skyrim?" He asks, savouring the flavour. 

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Before she can answer the question, the door opens up behind him, admitting someone new. 

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It's been a stressful day. The ambush, the rush to reinforce the remains of Ilek's patrol, the battle with the Storm mage, his injuries - Jaim is beyond exhausted. He just wants to rinse off and take a long soak, or as long as he can manage before Istaim comes back to herd him to the Infirmary again.

He opens the door, stepping inside without looking, and then stops just inside the threshold, holding the door open while he stares. 

"What," he asks flatly. 

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Gaemir twists around, face lighting up at the appearance of a new person, and then filling with curiosity. 

"Oh, hello!" He peers at the newcomer's face, and then smiles at him, "Well aren't you gorgeous." 

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"I-" he stops. Stares at the other person. His hair is lighter, and his eyes are brown, but. Other than that, they look exactly alike.

 

"What is this." He is really not in any condition for a mystery right now. 

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"Welcome to Milliways, the inter-dimensional bar! I'm told the door can replace any door anywhere, letting in people from all over the 'multiverse'. If you come inside and close the door, time is paused in your own world. If you leave and close the door behind you, the door it replaced will return! So you're probably not stuck here, at least." Given the door is still open. 

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"...That is ridiculous. I hope you realise." 

He does have doubts that someone would choose to do some unheard-of Space magic to his bathroom door, though.

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"Yep! Well, I mean, it could also be some unknown plane of Oblivion. Can't fully rule that out, really, and I don't have any way to tell one way or another. Either way it's interesting!" He pats the bar, "Bar here is a person," he adds, "She sells all the food and drinks. First drink is free," he shakes his glass temptingly.

 

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"I don't drink," Jaim says absently, taking all this in. After a moment, he steps inside, shutting the door. 

"Plane of Oblivion? And why do we look alike?"

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"No idea! Any comments, Bar?" 

He gets a napkin. He reads it. 

"Huh, apparently we're what's called 'alts'. Same people, different circumstances," he summarises.

"Oblivion is where the Daedra live, in my world. The Princes - Daedric gods - and lesser Daedra. They're afterlives, too, for people who served the Princes in life. This could be part of the Realms of Revelry - it's a little too tame, though, supposedly they fashion themselves to match whoever enters them. This is not what I would have expected to find in my own personal paradise." He smirks. 

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He hums after the other finishes speaking, eyebrow raising at the last comment. Yes, he can see it. This person does remind him of his younger self. But, more... care-free. 

He steps up to the bar next to his 'alt'. A napkin appears, and he reads it, nodding. 

"Yes, I suppose a drink would be appreciated. A cup of Kiyanyi eyebloom tea?" He gets it. He takes a sip. "Perfectly steeped, my compliments," he tells her, before smiling at the napkin he gets in return. 

He settles on a barstool, turning to look at the other. "I am Jaim of Cialin," he tells him, pronouncing the name in two separate syllables - Ja-eem - and the country in three - Kee-a-lin

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"Camoran Gaemir, lately of Skyrim, more broadly of nowhere in particular except maybe Valenwood, if they'd acknowledge a bastard raised on the run away from the Green." And also if his family hadn't been overthrown by the Aldmeri Dominion's puppets. 

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"A bastard raised on the run?" The entire concept of bastardry continues to bewilder him. Who cares if a child's parents were married? One's child is one's child. 

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"The Aldmeri killed the last Camoran king of Valenwood and most of his family. My mother escaped. She had me and raised me - until she died - while running from the Dominion's agents." He shrugs, "Valenwood doesn't look very fondly on Bosmer who don't follow the Green Pact, and it's not really possible to do that outside of Valenwood. I'm also only half-elf, which probably complicates things even more." 

"Not that I want to be royalty. This suits me just fine, really."

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He is too tired to try to parse most of that, but- "I know the feeling," he comments. "I'm generally pleased to have been disinherited, if not with the rest of the circumstances around it." 

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"Story time?" 

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He huffs a laugh, "Sure." 

"I was the crown prince of Cialin, heir to my father's throne, until six years ago. When I was twenty I did a foolish thing which enraged the king to the point of causing him to disown me and exile me from the capitol. I am now the General of the Southern Border Forces." 

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"Not much of a story," he comments. "And - a General. Why would you want to be a General?" 

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"It's not what I wanted to be. It's what I needed to be, for my brothers' sake, and for the people of Cialin." 

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"Are you sure we're the same person?" Gaemir directs at Bar. The napkin confirms it. 

"Well, I can't imagine ever doing something like that for a bunch of people I don't know. Maybe I might, if I had siblings. Is your kingdom in a war or something?" 

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"The entire world is embroiled in a war," Jaim corrects, "The Arming Empire controls everywhere but Cialin, the City-State of Sanctuary, and some of the Southern Islands. They are working very hard to remedy that." 

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