"You don't need to apologise!" chirps Tahir. "That was an interesting experience."

    Theboros shoots him a look then looks at Vetmera again. "I have a suggestion, but it would require rather a lot more trust in me than you extended even Dhama."

"Mmnnh okay, let's hear it?"

"I can split you from yourself. More specifically, I could cut you off from your emotions and instincts, keep them contained and at bay in a partitioned area of your mind. This would hopefully cut off your automatic flinches... but it would also sap you of motivation to do anything and ability to make choices. You would need to trust Tahir also, as it would take all of my attention to keep this partition up from within your mindscape."

"Oh. Hm."

She looks at the device, then nibbles at her lip.

"I'm not sure we're going to get much of anywhere poking at a representation of a thing, in a mindscape that's not even complete. We know we're missing," she waves to the ghostly woman, "ghost women collectibles. Possibly I'm making excuses because I'm, well, emotionally freaked out and upset??" Then she furrows her brow and gets a stubborn look in her eye. "... However, if you can do the same thing in the real world, to actually turn this damn thing off, then yeah, that sounds great."

WE ARE SO RIGHT perhaps we should apologise to you YES YOU SHOULD ...nah

    "I can—it will if anything be easier to do in the real world, within here I am in your proverbial power and your mind is exerting a lot of pressure that I'd need to fight."

She nods. "Okay. So we investigate more until we have a better idea of what to do with the machine, and then we strike. In the real world, where this actually matters. If you're still willing to help, that is. Thank you, by the way, for keeping me from horribly blasting Tahir and company right in the brain."

"You're welcome. Though I'm not going to follow you on your adventures, I'm retired, come back to the bar when you're done with whatever it is you need to do."

"That's very reasonable, we can spare you the annoying footwork part of the adventure," she agrees, easily. "Off to go poke the mysterious stranger hiding in my head, or does anyone else have any good ideas related to the shitty mess my sire left?" She looks at the ghostly woman. "... no offense."

The ghostly woman just shrugs, clearly not offended.

    "Let's get it over with."

"We're ready."

HE SAID WE is this character growth IT'S RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT

"Right then. Let's see if I can find them."

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and starts looking. It's not, actually, very difficult to find. And then the labyrinth shifts and twists, and they're somewhere else, in front of someone else.

"Hey there," she says, pleasantly. "What'cha doing?"

This person is dreamlike, less solid than that transdimensional clock and the castoffs that were absorbed into Vetmera's mind. Less solid even than the ghostly woman, who at least had defined characteristics. This person, though, is more the idea of a person, a hazy blue silhouette made of memories of smoke, piercing eyes set into a face that is... both familiar and not. Both familiar and not, in a similar way to how various memories of Vetmera's have been, people and places and things her sire's run into that are now etched into her mind despite not being hers.

"Oh," they breathe, their voice a whispering echo. "Hello."

And the place they're in is not really that different from everywhere else in Vetmera's mind: another floating platform in the void, this one a glossy black reflecting the unearthly light coming from an imaginary galaxy in the distance.

"Hello," she says, even though she technically already greeted him. "Do you have a name?"

"I... probably did, at one point," they say, projecting an impression of thoughtfulness and dismay through their lack of a face or body language. "But I don't remember it. Or... much of anything. I've been calling myself a Spectre, for, well, obvious reasons." A mental impression of gesturing down at their non-body. "I'm sorry, this can't be what you were expecting. ...or can it? Who... are you? And where are we?"

"I don't trust them," Theboros says, mostly just to be thorough.

She doesn't either, but that's no reason not to be polite.

"We're in a mindscape for castoffs, and castoff related... stuff. Uh, what do you remember?"

"Oh! That word! I know that word! That's... the Changing God, right? Or the, the... I think I'm one of those. ...maybe. A mindscape? What are you doing here? What am I doing here?"

"Work harder on the act, buddy, you're not fooling anyone."

"...fooling? I'm not..." They look down at their not-feet and give off the impression of, again, thoughtful dismay. "I don't think I am? But it's strange, I... can't tell."

(Tahir over here is actually for the first time having genuine trouble with this interaction. He's noticing that actually apparently he runs a lot of his ability to talk to people on being able to see them? This not-a-body is really throwing him for a loop.)

"Uh... huh," says Vetmera, deciding to conjure some chairs so they can have this conversation sitting down. She includes chairs for everyone else, because she's polite. Even though this spectre is avoiding answering her questions. "Well, this is... sort of a web that catches errant minds. You're the fifth mind it's caught, and unlike the others I'm not sure how you got here. Which is why I ask if you remember anything that might explain that."

"No, I... I understand, I'm just... Sorry, I know it must seem so strange that I'm not answering, it's not that I'm, I don't, I don't really remember... much. And I'm trying to. Being a castoff, though, I think I do. This is... your mind?" They give the impression of sitting down but all that does is make the chair also look really strange and indistinct. "I don't know. I'm sorry. ...I could leave? It must be uncomfortable, having someone living in your mind who acts so suspiciously. I wouldn't want to impose. I've nothing to offer." They fidget a bit with an imaginary hem of a shirt, then grimace. "I'm pretty sure I did, at some point, but I don't know what or when."

See the most suspicious thing here is that he can't see what the game is and games you can't see are the ones you lose.

"I'm all right, it's not particularly uncomfortable to house you." Also she's not really sure she should let this person... out. But then, she's not sure if they should be in here, either. "Uh, slight problem with leaving, that might kill you if you don't have... something else to house your mind in. So. Uh. My going theory is that you're a recently deceased castoff of some kind, and you ended up here instead of dissipating." Or some kind of something or other from her sire, but she will avoid accusing them of that to see what kind of game they want to play with this... whatever this is.

"Oh. I'm dead? ...that makes the name even more appropriate, heh," they say with a slight self-deprecating smile. "...but then, I... I am thankful. I don't know anything else but I know that I don't want to die." They look up, then, suddenly fierce. "What can I do to prove myself? That I can be trusted? I'll do it!"

"'S not how trust works."