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leareth, king of cheliax, searches for his alt in a velgarth 1000 years earlier
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"Yes, I agree." 

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"How do I actually talk to him?" Tadesse says blankly after a moment. "Since he is - not a person anymore...?" 

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"You can pray to him. I do not think he will have difficulty hearing you." 

:- at least, normally I would think that: he says to Khemet, suddenly uncertain. :He is still so - out of it, though. I think probably he is nonetheless recognizable to Aroden as another of us, just...: 

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:Yeah. It's - very concerning...:

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:You are worried too, then? I - it is not even that he is in pain, I have experienced that plenty of times - or that he is overwhelmed, that makes sense to me too - just, it also feel as though he is...not accessing most of himself? Like the words are there, for what we care about, but - not the real thing, not the driving motivation about it...:

Leareth clamps his hands together, behind his back where Tadesse can't see, not that Tadesse is really looking at him anyway. :I do not remember this! He left no records. ...I suppose it is possible this Velgarth diverged from mine at some point before I found him, but I doubt it. Everything else matches. I just - did not realize I took it this hard, at the time. Realizing that the best option still on the table involved murdering ten million people: 

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:I guess it's upsetting but I'd have really expected you to be more the type to cope by researching all kinds of far-fetched things that might work instead. And - if it were just that, I'd have expected it to end once that was obviated.:

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:No, I agree, at this point it is about more than just the situation. Probably he will snap out of it eventually on his own? I find it hard to imagine a me just...stuck in that state forever. But I hate seeing him miserable, and - also we do need him, to help Ma'ar, it is not an emergency but I would prefer it not wait a decade. And it would be good for him, I think, if he were starting out - slightly less broken than this...: 

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:Well, maybe Aroden will have ideas: Sigh. :Thank you for coming out to talk to him: 

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:Of course. I hope he's all right.:

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Tadesse is quiet, eyes closed. Trying to pray. He...doesn't know how to tell whether he's doing it right. It's been lifetimes since he attempted prayer to the Velgarth gods, and - well, they seem like fairly different sorts of entities than Golarion's gods anyway. And apparently this god is him

Leareth thought that Aroden wouldn't have difficulty hearing him. Because they're the same person in some abstract bizarre sense, he assumes.

Which might be more reassuring if Tadesse, right now, felt more like he could definitely recognize himself

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Ekunde notices his uncertainty. 

I would recognize you anywhere, Ekunde thinks to him. You're my immortal ancestor who decided you never wanted to die. You know more magic than anyone in the world. You're not afraid of the gods. You want to see everywhere and understand everything - you have entire bunkers full of books that you wrote... 

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None of those are...quite it, Tadesse thinks. But it helps, sort of, to triangulate what 'it' is. 

A tower under the stars. Lights, everywhere. The memory - not quite a memory, it's that but also more than that - is flavoured and textured with hope, which feels...disconcertingly foreign, right now, but he can't deny that it's him. 

- never to die never to give up never to walk away - 

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- And suddenly he's falling, into something vast and incomprehensible and fast-moving, like a whirlpool in the depths of the sea - 

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Cooooooooooool, Ekunde is thinking. 

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And something catches him, plucks him out of the currents before they can scour him away to nothing, and suddenly he's - somewhere else. 

A glimpse of a shining city of towers and bustling streets and trolleys soaring on rails through the air - 

Shift. "No, I think not that," a voice or something like a voice says, and then - 

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- a flicker of a man at the head of an army - shift - 

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And suddenly everything stops and it's very quiet, save for the sound of rain. 

He's in a cottage. The roof is leaking. It's dark, and cold, and a young, tired-looking man with eyes too haunted for his face is looking at him. 

"Tadesse," the man says. "Or Ma'ar - I am not sure what name you feel is yours, right now..."

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"Aroden," Tadesse says. He's - not sure how to answer that question. Lately he's not sure that any name really feels like his. 

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"You are very tired." 

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"Yes." 

 

 

 

 

"- Leareth thought that - talking to you, might help." 

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"I know. I - am not sure, though, if what you need just yet is help."

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"I am not sure what you mean." 

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"Well. If no one helped you, ever again, what would happen - what would you do?" 

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"I am not sure."

That's not true, though. He can feel the jarring not-truth of it, floating to the surface. 

"...I - would keep going, I guess." 

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