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someone needs to tell first age exalted ellie and fate that you're not supposed to select the same person for all of "bed, wed, behead"
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"Yeah." Lean. 

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"Sorry."

"I should've checked."

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Smile. And poke! 

"It's not a problem. I know exactly how silly you can be."

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Pout. 

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"What reflection thing? If I am permitted to know."

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"You are, though - it's a thing of the wyld, so my explanation might be slightly off."

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"Better than mine. I've given up trying to even word it in my head... Just kind of is."

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She laughs. "That's because you have to know yourself fully before you can explain yourself, dear heart. It'll come with time."

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Over dramatic sigh. 

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Pat pat.

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She smiles at them. "You're both very cute."

"The reflection thing, as Gleam calls it... You know the metaphor of wyld shaping as telling a story, right?"

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"In passing."

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"Well..."

"So the best metaphor all around is that the state that existed before Creation was one of possibility. Storytellers and their infinite, ever changing stories. Ephemeral things - subject to the whims of another. Your story was always dissipating into those of others, and nothing truly lasted. There were no rules except those agreed on in any given meeting of storytellers."

"The Primordials hated this, by and large, and they worked together to make a supreme story - one stronger than any other, by its nature unmutable. They pretty much succeeded - and met instant troubles, because the rest of existence, the chaotic swirl of stories, was still out there, and it challenged and chipped away at the edges of Creation."

"They had to make a threshold, a place neither here nor there to protect their works from what's outside. It inevitably made the true mechanics of Creation more apparent, the guts of the world exposed and rendered mutable. But - it wasn't what came before. It was something new, and none of the Primordials could control it, and their Incarnate servants couldn't function within it - and they tried, crafting thousands of gods of the moon to maybe, just maybe, get solid control of the wyld. They failed, and they left behind a pile of glittering shells."

"And so - one of them realized they needed something new. A neither here nor there being. But they wouldn't trust one of us - one of the fey who liked to flit in and out playfully, fascinated by their new work - with guiding the wyld as they wished."

"So they set a trap - and I walked into it."

She's quiet for a long moment, but, before Elathea can comment, she continues: "I loathed them all at first, but - they'd wrapped me up in the shells of their dead moon gods, and I couldn't define myself fast enough to break free. I could have eventually, but... I fell in love, and my darling Gaia was one of the architects of Creation - and she was proud of her work, and how could I then stand to destroy it?"

"I learned how to cooperate - and helped overthrow the Primordials when my chance came, of course, and secured Gaia into the weave of Creation so tightly that none of the Incarnae could threaten her at the end of the war. And that, my ability to change the story of Creation whenever I'm at the height of my power, makes the Incarnae... Well, nervous."

She closes her eyes. 

"I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"But - the story does communicate something important to this. That I was the only one of my kind, and I was isolated, and lonely, and I missed my dear Gaia more than anything - and I can weave new tales into Creation, sometimes."

"So I told a new story, one meant to cure my loneliness. The moon might cross the sky alone - but it's followed ever by its reflection, made anew each night." She turns towards Gleam, expression soft. "And so I made Gleam. She isn't a fey creature, not in the same way I am, but - she's the same image as me, created from a different substance. My reflection in the water, and her story spins back up every time it ends - and it will, so long as story lasts."

"And her story reflects mine, every time it repeats. Including in ways I hadn't intended - being enslaved is an annoyingly constant part of it. But - there's been good reflections, too."

"Including - you. Everything we're made to love, beautiful and strange and entirely unlike us, in the same guise as our most hated enemy - but wonderful. Proof of the good in your world."

She looks away. 

"You're a reflection of my Gaia, as Gleam is a reflection of me. It's - silly, maybe, but I'd feel... Unfaithful to her, if I let myself love you."

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"Oh."

"I see."

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Gleam hugs Luna, curling into her.

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"I think I can understand your preference to be... faithful, at least."

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"Thanks."

"It feels much different with Gleam, but..."

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"Masturbation doesn't count."

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She snorts.

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"That would be more or less my own reasoning."

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"You can hook up with alternate versions of yourself any time, darling."

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"I'd invite you to watch, of course, if you were available."

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"All I ask."

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Laugh.

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Kiss!

Chaste kiss. For Luna's sake .

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