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Golden Knife
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When he'd first managed to snag a touch of the scholar's artifact, he had thought of it as a means to an end. A thing that would get him what he wanted. But now, with the soft sound of chimes in his ears, Aldaras is pretty sure he's starting to like being a tracker. It's not an obvious thing, it doesn't scream his attention, but ever since his knuckles brushed the hunting horn, it's been there. Soothing, gentle chimes, just on the edge of hearing.

He's listening to them now. They're not there just for decoration or listening pleasure - he needs to follow them, to the nearest artifact. For the past few weeks, it's been coming from back where he started - the scholar's city. But now - now he's far enough away that the artifacts collected there aren't interfering. And he's found a new chime, obviously different from the others by its direction and tone. After several days of frenzied travel instead of the more leisurely pace from before, they're close. Agonizingly close.

Zevaia is less excited than he is, but that's to be expected. She's not the one who gave up the right to keeping secrets just to himself. A side-effect of his tracking; he knew what he was getting into from the start. His father's at home, all of Aldaras's secrets in his possession. Even the embarrassing ones. Especially the embarrassing ones. Besides, he would be his sister's keeper if she'd been the one to touch the horn, and both twins are quite sure that would end badly for everyone involved. There are certain things Aldaras never wants to know about his sister. Ever.

They've been keeping nearly silent, to avoid interference with his tracking. So it's a surprise when she gets his attention with her voice.

"Hey. I'm scouting ahead. Don't like the look of this place," she says. Aldaras doesn't, either, the forest has gotten too unnaturally quiet, now. It wasn't like this, miles back - it makes Aldaras worry about what sorts of things lie this way. "And I'm the one with the pistol."

He nods. "It's in that direction," he says, pointing. "Scream if you see any of the cut."

"Nah. They'll be the ones screaming," shrugs Zevaia. "But I might if I see the knife." She winks.

Aldaras sighs. "Okay. Be careful."

"You too, dork."

Then Aldaras is alone. He keeps following the chimes. They're so tantalizingly close, he can't help it. For a few minutes, he wonders with a growing paranoia if he's accidentally tracking the knife. But no, the trackers have all recorded what it sounds like. It varies, from person to person, but it's never beautiful. It's been described as a screeching sound, or a screaming, or the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Aldaras isn't sure how that would translate to what he hears, but all trackers who escaped it have said it is the most wretched sound they've ever hear. This lovely chime isn't anything so horrific.

(He tries not to think about how ones who might have heard it as something pleasant, and how they would have never been able to tell their tales. He's scared enough, no need to add fuel to that fire.)

It turns out that the artifact is closer than he thought. He's surprised, at first, that he found it so easily, but - the chimes don't lie. Aldaras shifts the log muffling the sound, and then he sees it. Definitely not a knife. A necklace of blue stones, flat and shining and lovely. If it weren't an artifact, it wouldn't be particularly expensive, just unusual and unique. But it is, so it's more precious than gold.

Aldaras doesn't touch it. He doesn't know what it does, or what its side-effects are. As much as he wants - all magic ever, if it's the sort of magic whose price is sleeping for twenty hours a day, he does not want it. Carefully, ever aware of what one stray touch to its surface would do, he nestles it into his backpack, wrapped twice in cloth and tied three times with sturdy twine, to keep it from jostling loose. To be safe. He'll let the scholars at it when he's home.

Once it's safely away, Aldaras can't help but laugh. He did it. He actually did it, he found an artifact. The backpack goes back on, and he heads off to find his sister.

"Hey!" he calls. "Zevaia! I found it! Some kind of necklace, time to head back and celebrate!"

It's a pity, that he can't track people. Otherwise, this would be a lot easier. But artifacts don't do what you want them to do, or even go anywhere close to it, not without hard work and lots of patience.

He's in the middle of wondering what the necklace does when he notices that his feet are acting strangely. He'd meant to be walking straight ahead, back towards where he last saw his sister, but - now he's not. He's walking to what was his left, earlier. Aldaras frowns. This is not normal behavior, but there's no reason to panic just yet. Very, very carefully, he tries to turn around.

It doesn't work.

Okay, now it's time to panic.

Aldaras tries to open his mouth to scream, to cry for help - that's the thing that he swore to himself he'd do, first thing. But he can't manage it. All that comes out is a little pathetic whimpery sound. He can't bring himself to do any more - somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows he's being silenced by the knife. His feet keep walking. Step. Step. Step.

It's too late for him now, he knows. Aldaras tries very hard to come to terms with - with death. Worse than death, actually, every step he involuntarily takes is one step closer to being one of the cut. The idea makes him feel sick, makes him want to throw up. But he can't, because he's walking. The knife doesn't want him to throw up, it wants him to walk. So he walks. Step. Step. Step.

Desperately, Aldaras wonders if there's a way to kill himself before he gets there. Or - or some way to stop the knife from getting another useful - whatever the cut are. Slave, thrall, soldier, convoy. Any of the above. All of the above. He has the necklace. He doesn't know what it does, but - literally anything he can imagine would be better than this. Anything the necklace could do to him, anyway.

It's a struggle, but the knife doesn't care about his hands, it cares about his legs, it cares about his mouth. Later, later is when it will want his arms, when he's close enough to reach out and touch it. Because that's what it'll make him do. That's when he'll just - stop being his own. He'll belong to the knife. So his hands are free to fumble into his backpack and scrabble desperately at the cloth around it. Why did he have to be so thorough with wrapping it, he's a fool, he should have - should have anticipated this. He should have known.

He sees a person, up ahead. With growing horror only barely muted by the knife's pull, he recognizes her as his sister. Her black hair's a mess, but that's not the only thing wrong with her. She has the blank, vacant expression of one of the cut. Her movements are unnatural, puppet-like. She steps towards him, slowly, staring into nothing. She's flanked by other cut, with the same blank stares.

Zevaia is holding a knife. Not one of her own, of course not. This one is more decorative and ceremonial than the utilitarian ones his sister carries. It's some sort of alloyed gold, twisted beautifully to make an ornate handle. The blade is the same alloyed gold - glittering in the sunlight. Sharp and deadly, not due to its materials, but due to what kind of artifact it is.

Aldaras is horrified to find that it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

More fumbling. The first two knots of the twine are already undone, and he's given up trying to undo the third. He just needs to touch it. After that - after that he can die, and hopefully the side effect will be debilitating to the knife's purposes. By some miracle, it can't force people to use magic. So there's no potential loss, for him. Not anymore.

He wishes he could close his eyes, stop staring at the golden instrument of his - lobotomy. He can't. It's started to seize his arms, he's so close. His right goes as instructed, the left he manages to hold on to, for just a few scant seconds more.

Those turn out to be all he needs. His fingertip brushes the necklace.

All at once, his feet fall out from under him, and he's crumpled on the ground in a heap. He wonders, manically, if he was lucky enough for the necklace to convey paralysis. A twitch from his arms says no. No it hasn't. Shortly after, his legs agree. In fact, all of him agrees. His first instinct with this new information is to crawl away. Away from the knife. Away from the - thing that used to be his sister.

To his astonishment, this time his body obeys him.

He scrambles to his feet, breathing heavily and shaking. The pull is gone. His legs, his arms - everything is his own again. He looks at the knife, backing away. Just - an ordinary knife made of gold. How had it seemed lovely before? It was gaudy, if anything. Ugly and impractical and from how his - how the cut woman's carrying it, far too heavy.

His mind is his own.

Can he - can he throw the necklace at his sister, free her from the curse? Obviously the necklace is some kind of - of antithesis to the knife, that's the only way, maybe he can get her back, maybe she can be saved -

- Except she lurches away, growling that guttural inhuman thing that the cut do. Her - fellow cut move in front of her, only protecting her from harm by mere coincidence. It's the knife, that they're keeping safe. She's far enough that he doesn't trust his aim, not with something so precious, not with others in the way. If he loses it, if he doesn't get it back to the scholars... Then the knife will just continue running rampant.

"Wait, wait, no," he mutters, fumbling to get the necklace out properly. Maybe, says a small voice in his head, he can still save her. Maybe.

But then there are the others. The other cut, those the knife don't care about - emaciated as they are from lack of care, they outnumber him. And surround him. Maybe if he were his sister, he could fight past them, force them all to touch the necklace that so obviously saved him.

He manages to retrieve it, and weighs his odds.

There's no way he can manage it. No reasonable way. He can't do it. There's too many of them, he's too - scrawny and unarmed and if he dies then the necklace will take ages to get to the scholars. Possibly never, if another tracker never comes by here, which is entirely possible. And - that would delay the obvious immunity to the knife getting to people that could destroy it. That would cause more fathers and mothers and brothers and - and sisters to fall under its spell. He can't - he can't do that. Not even for her.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. "I'll come back, I'll - try to find a way to save you."

He turns and runs.
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In the city of Drofnfjord, Annie is sitting on a low stone wall on the college campus, re-reading the admissions policies for the artifact studies department. There has to be some accommodation for people who don't want to do a tracking errand. Who cannot stand to do a tracking errand. Who require their privacy, yes, even from their favorite person in the world. Can't she just organize their filing cabinets and cook for the Dean of Analysis and...? Damn it.

A wind kicks up and the hood of her coat flops back from her face.
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Aldaras is exiting the main building, trying to figure out something constructive to do after his frenzied return to Drofnfjord. The Dean of Analysis has the necklace. Well, his attendants do, anyway. He'll take much longer to be able to see it. There's nothing anyone can do about that.

He resists the urge to pace. He resists it very much. It'll help no one, especially not his sister, not right now. The attendants he gave the necklace to solemnly said that even with the necklace's abilities - saving the cut is probably impossible. Damn it all, he should have - asked that they not split up. They should have stuck together, and then he could have gotten her with the necklace too and they could have just run and she'd be fine.

But then she'd be subject to - whatever side effect he's going to have to put up with, too. It's been days, and he hasn't figured it out. No strange quirk, no crushing, unbearable guilt from an untold secret, no sleeping twenty hours a day. Just - nothing. Aldaras doesn't believe he could be that lucky, it has to be someth-

A woman is sitting by where he's trying desperately not to pace. He's jostled by the wind, and glances up in annoyance to see if there's a place he can try not to freak out in peace. Briefly, out of the corner of his eye, he sees her face.

And then he blinks, surprised, and he turns and looks at her, properly.
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She turns a page in what she's reading, and then lifts a hand to tuck her hair behind her ears.

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Aldaras understands immediately upon seeing her why people write love poems. He didn't, before, it seemed fanciful and silly and not at all helpful to an actual relationship. Now, now it seems correct and right and appropriate, because there's no words he could hope to speak that could possibly match her. None at all. He might have the barest flicker of chance if he tried in a poem, but with no practice in the writing form, he doubts he has even that pathetic chance.

Everything about her is - perfection. If there is a single flaw in her face (which he seriously doubts) then it serves only to highlight her other features' greater beauty. Her eyes - gods, her eyes, soft and warm and brown. He'd compare them to chocolate, or some other favorable material that's brown, but he's absolutely certain that the only material that could even hope to match them is her hair. Soft and smooth and healthy and the loveliest shade of understated brown. Aldaras wonders, faintly, if her skin is competing for points with her hair, vying with its impeccable, unblemished and wonderfully understated splendor. If Aldaras were asked to be a judge for the winner, he couldn't possibly hope to say. Perhaps he'd expire from the effort on the spot.

It's obvious that there's more to her than mere beauty, though. That's the admissions policy for the artifact studies department. She was obviously brilliant, the way she's reading is with a practiced air. Not boredom, frustration, he can tell it, now. Frustration at what, he wonders? Surely someone like her has no reason to be frustrated, she is the type of woman to be worshiped, not face hardship.

Unless she's worried about the knife? The cut? Trying desperately to find a solution, like he is - he needs to tell her, there's a solution, there's a cure, this gorgeous angel is safe from the likes of the knife. She just needs to -

Touch... the... necklace.

Oh, fuck. Aldaras just figured out what the side effect was.

(He doesn't know how long he's been staring at her. A while, by now, he thinks.)
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Is that guy staring at her?

Why is that guy staring at her?

If she has to be stared at by some guy, she supposes this guy is doing it pretty non-creepily. He doesn't look like he wants to drag her into an alley, he looks like he wants to peel grapes for her or something.

Still. What the hell, dude?
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She's looking at him, the most gorgeous and perfect woman of all time in the history of forever is looking at him. Aldaras's mind draws a complete blank. What does he do, how does he explain himself, how can he even begin to explain himse-

Why isn't he telling her everything right this second?!

Aldaras makes a little whimpery sound and clutches a hand uselessly at his heart as crushing, all-consuming guilt slams into him. She is obviously brilliant, why is he keeping secrets from her? She needs all of the information she can get, he is keeping it from her, what kind of monster is he? How can he do that to her, how can he do that to the most perfect woman in the world? In the universe.

If he doesn't, if he doesn't how will she know how to be safe? How will she be able to make smart decisions with excellent foresight if she doesn't get all of the information he has to offer? She needs to know about - about everything, absolutely everything, he needs to give her as much information as he possibly can.

Abruptly, he sits next to her.

"I need to tell you every secret I know, right now."
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"You seem to have mistaken me for your keeper. I don't know you."
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"No, you don't understand," he says, obviously under the effects of some crushing guilt. "I really need to tell you every secret I know, I - I know you have absolutely no idea who I am and I am genuinely sorry, I don't know what's going on but I feel like I'm about to die I need to fix it I'm sorry!"

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"I - okay. Go ahead, don't hurt yourself."

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"Thank you," whimpers Aldaras, and then he gets to talking about every single one of his secrets. As quickly as he possibly can.

"My mom's in an asylum. I'm a bastard - a literal one, I have no idea who my birth father is. The magic department's given me basic access to all of its safe artifacts, there's a passcode to get in, it's -" He winces, and closes his eyes. "-846B29. Damn, that was a bad one - when I was little I used to dress up in bedsheets and run around the house and pretend to be a wizard." He continues in this vein for a while, on embarrassing things he did during childhood, before: "- I recently found an artifact that grants immunity to the knife. The knife. I found out when I touched it in desperation because it was about to cut me, but it got my sister and I didn't manage to save her - oh fuck, really, I have to-? - oh god damn it, its side effect has made me fall hopelessly in love with you. I've never felt this way about anyone in my life, I've never even kissed someone. My first crush was on a man, the celebrity Keijo Abdon -" more continuations in this vein of harmless and stupid secrets, and then, with a final shuddery sigh, "- and also your hair is gorgeous and smooth and shiny and I kind of want to pet it."

The guilt is gone. He buries his head in his hands.
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Annie listens. She considers writing down the passcode, but - well, that would be kind of a jerk move, and also she's pretty sure that if she decides to ask him later while he's still under this bizarrely-aimed thrall he will not be able to resist repeating it, so. If she ever decides to misuse her unlooked-for ability to induce crippling guilt.

"I - don't know how this works, the keeper thing, not in detail - if I ask you questions does it flare up, how do I not - hurt you?"
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"If I think that you don't know what the secrets are, then it flares up, so - so please ask questions. Or do a good job at pretending that you know what they are, I suppose."

He sounds vaguely sort of miserable.
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"But for ordinary probably non-secret information, like - what's your name?"

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"Aldaras. Hi."

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"But I mean if I ask you a question is there a grace period before you do the heartclutch-feeling-like-you're-dying thing?"

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He nods. "A brief one. If I am not immediately doing all I can to enlighten you as quickly as I possibly can - guilt trip. The worst of all time."

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"And I'm your keeper all of a sudden because of a different artifact, and now it's interacting funny with the tracker one. Why me?"

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"Yes. I have," says Aldaras, "no idea. I walked past - hundreds of people, at least. I saw lots of their faces, it didn't - nothing happened at all until I saw you."

He doesn't sound like he's mad at her for it, just - sort of frustrated by an unexplained answer.
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"And the Dean hasn't gotten around to explaining the thing yet?"

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"Asleep. I handed it to his assistants - three hours ago? Or so?"

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"I'm Annabelline, by the way. Annie's fine."
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"Nice to - um. Meet you."

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"Please give me a summary of how the artifact that has made you fall in love with me seems to work."

Especially if, say, he's going to drag her off to his basement or something.
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"It's - done a thing where I think you are the most perfect woman in the world. Actually, I think my thoughts were 'in the universe, of all time.' I - want to make sure you are happy and safe and that no one would ever hurt you. You've neatly become my favorite person ever, I - my head doesn't normally work like that." Pause. "It's also seem to have made me want to make out with you a little. That's bewildering."

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"That's bewildering even with the rest of it? Are you usually not attracted to girls?"

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"No, I am, just not so -" He waves a hand. "I don't get this way with people, I don't see someone and want to make out with them because they're - pretty. This is confusing, my head doesn't make sense anymore..."

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"Who used to be your keeper and are they going to be jealous?"

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"My dad. My - adopted dad. He's not likely to be jealous, he'll just - be really, really confused. Also worried."

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"I don't want to hurt you," she says gently. "But it's sounding like I cannot accomplish that by, say, leaving you alone..."

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"I know you'd never hurt me," he says, sounding lovestruck. Then he pauses, and looks confused. "... Because of weird head rewiring instead of evidence. That's creepy. Er. If you're - I'm not going to stalk you or anything, I genuinely do not want to do anything to make you unhappy."

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"That's - good, but the fact that you are politely making it possible for me to abandon you does not mean that I ought to do that. Unless that is a convenient loophole in the odd juxtaposition of your artifacts and you'd be able to lead a normal life if only we didn't cross paths ever again?"

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He shakes his head. "No." Wince. "I'd still need to tell you any secrets I get later. I'm - I'm genuinely sorry, I... we can keep it to a minimum and just - only talk for me to fling secrets at you and then flee?"

Aldaras looks kind of miserable about this method of solving the problem.
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Okay, time to abuse her power. Sort of.

"Please tell me what would have to happen for you not to be miserable."
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"... The necklace would need to fix the cut. Instead of just a defense against them. I - when it comes to you I don't know, I don't know specifics, I just -" He winces again. "I think I want to stay around you if you're okay with it."
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"How much of the time?"

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"I - don't know. I - have things to worry about, too, I need to go try and save my sister. If it's possible. So not - all of the time, certainly."

Even if he wants to.
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"Did the Dean's assistants tell you how long it would take to get information about the - you should go tell them what you've found out just now, actually, so he doesn't waste his time, when he wakes up looking for your side effect first."

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"I - really should, yeah. They said it'd be at least - seven more hours, at least."

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"The department is also probably going to want to know that you have a new keeper, especially if they give you passcodes."

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He coughs. "Yeah. That, too. I, um - they might want to meet you, do you want to come with me, or for me to leave you alone as much as possible?"

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"Being left alone is not currently a priority of mine. I was actually -" She gestures with the department literature she was reading. "I was looking for a loophole to work with the Department without having to be a tracker. My privacy is non-negotiably important but I wanted to work on magic."

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"... Hi, my name is Aldaras, and I'll be your loophole for the day."

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"Exactly. We can go leave a message for the Dean now, if you don't have anywhere else you need to be at this moment."

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"I don't have anywhere else I need to be, I'm - waiting on the Dean."

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"Okay. We can go make sure he doesn't duplicate any work when he wakes up, and see if they want to change that passcode," it seems like it would be unhelpful of her to remark that she's already forgotten it, "and - generally be responsible with your twice-touchedness and its exciting side effects."

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"Thank you," he says, genuinely. "Really. It's - very nice of you."

Is he looking at her with a lovey-dovey look on his face? Yes. Yes he is. Annie can Do No Wrong.
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Annie puts her departmental literature in her bag and puts her hood up again against the wind and heads back whence Aldaras came. "I hope the necklace can help your sister. The side effect is - not great, but not worse than death, and probably a lot easier to deal with if one isn't a tracker. Is she a tracker?"

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"She's not. Neither of us were thrilled about the idea of her constantly spouting out her secrets to me. And I'm the one who's a terrible liar, anyway, this is just a - step further."

Back they go!
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The receptionist at the department is surprised to see him again so soon. "Yes?"

"Do you want to explain or should I?" Annie asks him.
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"I should. Hello, I just found out what the side effect of the necklace is." He motions to Annie. "I have fallen hopelessly in love with her at first sight." Pause. "That's - not me being flirty with her, that is literally what happened, it was incredibly confusing and also she's now my keeper."

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"Okay," says the receptionist. "You, are you a student?"

"Yeah. Undeclared, first year. Annabelline Swan."

"In that case we have to change the passcodes... Aldaras, if this happens again and you wind up with a collection, you'll let us know right away, yes?"
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The very thought of - winding up with a collection makes him wince. "Yes. Of course."

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"Are you okay?" asks Annie.

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"Mostly. The idea of randomly falling in love with enough people to start a collection is - sickening, but I vastly prefer it to - the obvious alternative of if I didn't touch the necklace."

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"Sickening because you just generally don't want to be in love with a bunch of people or sickening because at the moment being in love with me is doing Extreme Monogamy to your brain?"

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"... Second thing."

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"I should probably give you the flyer on proper keeper behavior," says the receptionist.

"There's a - oh, that's probably good, unless it just gives people ideas. Learning that there is a handout just gave me ideas. I will not enact them, but - yeah, give me the flyer."

The receptionist gives Annie a flyer.
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Aldaras smiles a little.

He's gone back to looking at Annie like she is the center of his universe. Nothing strange going on here, carry on.
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"Does giving this thing out usually help? I wasn't likely to think of half of this unethical abuse of the guilt trips on my own."

"I don't make the policy," shrugs the receptionist. "Or write the flyer."

"Okay. Well. Thanks."
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"Usually it's enforced reasonably well because if you abuse the guilt trips enough, you will stop being the tracker's favorite person."

He does not mention the one exception. She's a smart woman, she can figure it out on her own.
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"Fair enough, the necklace is new." Annie folds up the flyer and bags it. "Anything else we need to do while we're here?"

"Is there a good daytime phone number for you? When the Dean has results?"

"Yeah, sure -" Annie writes it down. "That's my mother's landline, I won't be home all the time but she can take messages."
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"And you already have mine," says Aldaras.

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"Yes. The first priority for him to look into is whether it will be able to cure the cut, and I or someone else from the office will call when we have that in a few hours," says the receptionist.

"Okay, great," says Annie. "Uh - Aldaras - I don't have any more classes today. We are probably going to be hanging around a lot, you and me, where's a good place for us to go and - talk?"
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"I... have an apartment, or we could go some place less freakily mine."

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"I live with my mom. I haven't decided how to describe you to her, so your apartment works."

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He nods.

"It's within walking distance," he says, as they exit the building. "Um - it's not going to bother you being in my apartment?"
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"...should it? I mean, realistically, if you were going to club me over the head and drag me off for nefarious purposes you should have done it before letting the receptionist get my name and telling her that you're touched about me."

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"No, no," he says assuredly. "I'm - you're the last person I'd ever hurt or do - terrible things to. Of any kind. I'd just be freaked out in your position."

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"It turns out that if somebody wants me to trust them the shortcut is handing me large amounts of unchecked power."

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Aldaras quirks an eyebrow. "... Huh. Okay."

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"I mean, pretty obviously you didn't do it on purpose, but regardless. Anyway, I should be fine in your apartment unless it is squalid, floored with bear traps, or inhabited by ravening hordes of barbarians who you keep around to help with the rent."

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That one actually causes him to laugh.

"No. To - all of those, actually."
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"Good. That's definitely a case where it can't be even one of the listed things."

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"Ah, darn. I'll have to tell the ravening horde of barbarians to find some other place to go."

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"Barbarians are not meant to live in apartments anyway, it's really the kindest thing."

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"But they made such a sad face! Collectively."

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"With crayons?" wonders Annie innocently.

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"And fingerpaint."

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"I'm glad you have a sense of humor, this would probably be tedious otherwise."

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"Thanks. I'm - glad it's not tedious to be around me." Pause. "... That sounded better in my head. I swear."

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"Have you been a tracker long?" wonders Annie.

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"About a year and a half. It's - not for everyone. It was never this dramatic until it combined with the necklace's side effect."

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"Have you found things before the necklace, then?"

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"No, there's a grace period that I used for a while before heading out to - find things. I was worried about the cut." He winces. "... Proven to be absolutely correct, there."

He sighs.
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"You could have gone somewhere far away where the knife wasn't likely to be. I don't think they'd have kicked you out for bringing home an artifact from Chung-koet. I suppose the Chung-koet government might have objected, though..."

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"I'd rather not cause a diplomatic incident. But - yes. I should have done that."

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"But if the necklace really works - well. That'll be - that'll be really good. Especially if it turns out there are ways to control or aim the side effect for informed users."

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"Agreed. I'm not - going to put the necklace back. I'm glad I found it, it was a high priority for me to get it to the scholars safely." Pause. "But I also want my sister back."

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"How did -" She thinks better of asking this question partway through, and then realizes that she can't really take it back. Not finishing a question is a no-no on her flyer and she doesn't want to torture him. "- she get caught without you?"

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"She went scouting ahead. I'm - not really the fighting type. She wa- is. So."

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Annie nods.

"I'm sorry."
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"Definitely not your fault."

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"Yes, I know. I mean I am sympathetic."

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"Thanks. I'm - trying not to be a useless bundle of 'freaking out.'"

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"It would be pretty hard to figure out what to do with you if you were a useless bundle of freaking out. My flyer doesn't even give me instructions on that."

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"Far be it for me to put you in a situation the flyer gives no instructions for."

They have arrive at the apartment complex! Up the stairs they go.
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Annie keeps a firm hold on the banister.

"Are you studying anything besides magic?"
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"Economics. It surprises people, it's occasionally rather funny."

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"Why would that be surprising? People major in economics all the time."

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"Something about - mixing magic with math and money. It's a strange combination, apparently."

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"Why'd you pick Econ, then?"

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"Good for scaling, if I can get a good enough grasp of economics I can make - large scale changes. Like - making it more viable for people to do volunteer work, by throwing money at them."

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"...I think you might be missing a step, in there."

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"Oh, I know, I have to actually make the money. I just had to skip to the end because if I say, 'I want to be rich' people roll their eyes at me, but if I say, 'I want to be rich so I can do 'X'' then it's less ridiculous. I don't actually care about the money, I care about what I can do with it."

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"That makes sense. I don't think economists are known for getting rich, though."

Gosh, lot of stairs in this apartment building.
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"Not really, no."

They've thankfully gotten past all of them! Aldaras produces a key, and he unlocks and opens the door. He holds it open for Annie.

"But that's what the magic's for."
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In goes Annie.

"Track down things, do magic for people?" she guesses.
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"Basically. I'll need to be very careful about the artifacts I touch, I've - already seen how two side effects can combine strangely."

In goes Aldaras, too. The apartment is small and cute and reasonably neat, and well taken care of. It looks rather empty, which makes sense, if Aldaras was just out tracking something. Regardless, it's still comfy looking.
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Annie plops herself on a chair. "Are there any the university has that you have in mind?"

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Aldaras finds his own chair, politely giving Annie space. Even if he kind of still wants to snuggle her. Or make out, one of the two. "I was still weighing the costs and benefits of each. Some of the side-effects are very... Life changing, let's say."

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"Yeah, no kidding."

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"I might have been tempted by astral projection if it were, say, a hundred years ago. But now we have phones and it doesn't really seem worth it anymore. Teleportation is a - forever maybe, because it's so useful, but uh. I like being able to take showers without screaming in agony."

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"And going out when it's raining or snowing and, you know, drinking water, eating food, not being stuck full of needles to get your nutrition."

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"That, too. I think if you want you don't need to have the needles for nutrition. People certainly managed it from before IV's were invented. I really, really pity them."

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"Yeah, no kidding. The past-watching would be almost tempting for me, if I didn't rely so thoroughly on writing for - everything. I could probably make a switch to audio records but..."

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"I wouldn't be able to manage it, I like reading. Astral projection's still got Braille, but past-watching's more thorough. I'd be worried that people wouldn't be honest about what things said, and there's no way I could even know."

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"Maybe in the future everything will be like mediocre science fiction where computers talk, and then it'll barely be a problem to be illiterate."

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"Maybe. And then everyone would just be able to past-watch, because there's no loss to getting it."

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"If everyone past-watched there'd be a huge discontinuity in being able to read things from history."

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"You get the computers to read them for you. I thought this was mediocre science fiction, are you shooting for the more high end stuff? The ones that make more sense?"

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"Well, I suppose you could load up all the documents you could find into the computer first, but the computers can't do pastwatching by themselves. I don't actually know, can pastwatchers 'draw' words they see...?"

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Aldaras shakes his head. "No. Otherwise we'd know what the treaty of six emperors said. We just know it was written and signed."

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"Yeah, didn't think so. Artifacts: inconvenient."

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"... The necklace was pretty convenient. I mean, saved me from being cut, and as far as side effects go, this really isn't the worst one ever."

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"You have no idea how it picked me, right? I could have been anybody."

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"I have no idea how it picked you, yeah. But - my best-case scenario was that it would paralyze me from the waist down and I'd be incapable of helping the knife. On that scale - immunity to the knife and randomly falling in love is kind of... Better than that in every way."

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"But I mean - even if you weren't a tracker with an extra button to push it seems like some of the people you could have fallen spontaneously in love with would not have been nice about it."

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"Yes. I - don't know what would happen, then. But it's better than being cut. Not ideal, but you're - genuinely nice."

It seems like he's actually got way more to talk about for that, but he stops himself from continuing in the same vein. No need to be creepy by talking about how much he loves her.
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"Yeah, but - you'd think that even if I weren't, it sounds like. ...Speaking of which, if at any time my... unique position relative to you causes you harm, including by neglect as long as that's not due to a seriously major competing priority? I consider that information relevant. Okay?"

If she has to look after a love-touched guy at least it's one who will have to speak up if she does it wrong.
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He nods. "Yeah. Er." Aldaras looks vaguely uncomfortable, and shifts a little. "But at the same time I'm not - holding you to do anything because I happened to touch a necklace and that's sort of inconvenient for me. Okay?"

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"Yes, I understand. I will suit myself regardless, but it will almost certainly not suit me for you to be upset if I could fix it."

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He's got that 'you are the most amazing person in the world' look on him again.

"Understood," he says softly.
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"Good."

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Aldaras doesn't have any ideas for conversation starters right now, he is too busy gazing at Annie adoringly.

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"Wh-" Pause. "Crap, I'm going to have to get used to not even starting questions I'm going to change my mind about partway through, around you. Ah -" Sigh. "The question was, what's going through your head when you look at me like that."

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Blink, blink. "Mm? Oh, uh - it differs a bit, each time. It's all - nice things, admiration, mostly. I think the first time I saw you I was trying to figure out how to get an accurate description of you that did you justice, and the obvious answer was poetry. Except I'm terrible at writing it, so I'd never get it right. And that seemed like a terrible pity."

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"Aww."
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Aldaras looks down, embarrassed. "That particular time I was thinking about how - utterly frank and honest you sounded when you said that it wouldn't suit you. And that's -" He trails off. "It's a nice trait to have. I like it."

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"Do you think you would have liked it before?"
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"Yes. And just - caring about other people in general. People don't do it enough."

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"It's true, they don't. It's very frustrating."

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"So frustrating," he agrees with a laugh.

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"Well, if the necklace lets you get close enough to the knife that you can encase it in concrete and drop it into the sea, you can collect all the rewards for that and then you'll be started with a seed fund for using your economics knowledge."

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"Yeah. Though I hope you know that I wouldn't be doing it to fund my economics knowledge, I'd be doing it because it's horrific and needs to go away forever. The funding is just a bonus."

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"No, I understand. It's very efficient that way. Destroy knife and collect valuable prizes."

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"And save my sister at the same time. I like efficiency."

(He's still very worried about her, what if someone kills her as a mercy before he can get the necklace to her? What if the necklace doesn't even work? What will he do, then?)
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"What's your sister's name?"

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"Zevaia. She's also my twin, so..."

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"And you're really close."

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"Not inseparable, but - yeah. We just - sort of both assumed that once I started becoming more touched she'd be the one to steer me around to point me at things to use magic on."

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"But she wasn't your keeper?"

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"I would have been hers, but - no. My dad was. Zevaia was a bit annoyed and insulted for a while, but then she realized she didn't want my secrets anyway. So. Better for us both, this way."

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"Did you think she was going to be ahead of time? I don't know how obvious it usually is - I think if I were going to be a tracker, my keeper would be my mom, but it wouldn't stun me if it wound up being my dad instead or something."

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"I thought it would be my sister before it happened, actually. Because she's - the sort of person who would make a great keeper because you'd just have to ask her not to bring something up and she wouldn't. Like, objectively I knew she would make a good one. But -" He shrugs. "Favorite person. My dad is - was great at it, too."

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"My mom would probably be good at it too. Just - I'm too private a person." Pause. "Never read my notebooks unless I'm showing you something specific in them, please."

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"I wasn't planning to," says Aldaras. "That would be an invasion of privacy. Also terrible. There's a reason I would never ever touch the thimble responsible for mindreading, and it's not just the - obvious side effect."

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"The obvious side effect is a positive, in my view. I can just stay ten yards away from anyone who's swearing at the top of their lungs and I'm safe. Or I'd never have wanted to set foot on this campus, because eugh."

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"Yeah. I give them kind of a wide berth, too. But they required mindreading before they let me at the hunting horn, so."

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"They did? I didn't know they required that too. It's not in the literature. Shit."
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Aldaras blinks.

".... I should go over procedures for what happens when you become a tracker, I - don't know what you don't know, so nothing is - acting up, but I should make sure you know them."
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"I already knew I didn't want to be a tracker, because being a tracker comes with a side effect I can't handle by itself. I mean - I didn't know the department used mindreading as a mechanism to check up on anybody. I might as well give up and declare my major pre-med."

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"Oh. All right. But uh - so I don't curl up and want to die of guilt later -" he starts outlining exactly what happens when you become a tracker.

Obviously it's required to get access to the college's artifacts, but there are some forms to fill out and you need to have your potential keepers listed. They need to sign some waivers, and then the potential tracker gets his or her mind read. After that, they sign a contract that says anything that any artifact they find will be legally theirs, with the caveats that the school will confiscate it if it's exceptionally dangerous or if the tracker isn't at least putting in an effort to use the artifact against the knife. If that happens, the tracker's given a lucrative finder's fee. It doesn't happen very often, and requires a committee's approval, but it's happened in the past.
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Annie listens attentively.

"About how often are you going to need very badly to tell me things, from a baseline where I don't ask questions or look very much like I want to?"
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"It's - usually not too often, just when I get a new secret or it seems like you've forgotten one I've told you. This isn't in the flyer, but you can turn things into secrets if you think I am keeping them a secret from you. Or if I think I am keeping information from you that might be considered a secret. Thus, why I just said that."

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"The 'secret' terminology seems sort of arbitrary. It seems more like you can't withhold salient information from me but it's particularly urgent if there is any reason I might think you were doing so purposefully. Like, I still don't know your last name, since you haven't desperately blurted it out yet; it doesn't qualify as a secret, but I bet you have to tell me now that I've mentioned that I don't know it."

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"Yeah. Sarbror. My middle name's Evanak, too. That's - it's probably better to define it as salient information. So uh - is there anything you'd like to know about me?"

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"...I'd better be specific if there is, hadn't I."

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"I don't mind if you're not, it would just mean that I might not shut up for the next three hours."

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"And you wouldn't object to compulsively disclosing facts about yourself for three hours? I'd think you'd get thirsty."

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"I mean, I would object if I had something to do for the next three hours. But I don't. I'm just - waiting for the verdict on the necklace, before I can put out an ad for a person to touch it and help me encase the knife in concrete."

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"Does it have a lot of cut with it right now?"

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"... I saw about thirty. So, no. On the scale of how many people the knife can have, anyway."

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"Well, even if no one snipes them when they see them coming I don't think it lets them eat. I wonder what the knife's main effect even is. Maybe they're all - immune to bacterial infections, or something."

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"It - might be whatever's responsible for whatever grabs people before they even touch it. I don't know, it's not like we can throw the Dean at it."

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"Unless he likes the look of the necklace enough to touch it, I suppose."

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"I suppose, yeah. But if he does it without asking me nicely first they get to pay an absurdly large fine, it does legally belong to me."

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"Would you let him, if he wanted to?"

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"Yes."

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"I wonder if you'll have trouble finding someone else who wants to touch the necklace."

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"I hope not. I'd - like to think some people would be willing to deal with - random love at first sight in order to deal with that."

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"I'd be spooked. It could be anybody and what would I be able to do about it? I wouldn't make a good tracker-guard anyway, though."

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"... Yeah." He sighs. "I would have been spooked, too. And I'm - pretty terrible at violence in general. My sister probably would have been fine with touching it."

And now he looks sad.
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"Before you saw me, if you had known what the necklace did, what would you have wanted to happen?"
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"In comparison to what? In general? Or who I picked with the random love thing, or what?"

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"Like - if you had known you were going to fall in love with somebody and then have a really biased view of them, but first you could write them a letter, what might the letter have said?"

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"Uh. Making a comparison point to the type of person I am before weird necklace side effects get involved. Asking very nicely for them to not manipulate me after I was well and truly lovestruck. I'm not sure, I'd have to think about it. At least I have continuity with myself, I'm not - acting crazy or doing things I would have thought terrible, before. I just happen to be in love."

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"You can pet my hair if you still want to."
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Aldaras looks surprised by this statement. He blinks. "... Do you want me to, though?"

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"I didn't wake up this morning thinking if only some guy would randomly fall in love with me and pet my hair, that would be swell, but I wouldn't have brought it up if I minded."

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He snickers. "Fair enough. Tell me the instant you want me to stop?"

This seems to be a very large priority for him, actually. He looks kind of worried about her not saying so.
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"Will do."

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Aldaras smiles, and then gets up and carefully moves to stand next to Annie.

And gently, lovingly, he starts to pet her hair, smile still on his face.
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She smiles.

"So what's the first fifteen minutes or so of the three-hour unrestrained self-disclosure?"
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"Well, I'm adopted. I'm - very much not from around here, we moved here when I was eleven because this is where my dad lived and he wanted to raise us somewhere he knew. Neither of us were really upset about moving. Uh... I've been fascinated with magic since I was little. I'm... Genuinely not sure what's important for you to hear. What specific stuff do you want to hear?"

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"I was mostly fishing for conversation starters. Where did you live before?"

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"Chung-koet. Up in the mountains, actually. From a little tiny town called Ng Yen."

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"You barely have an accent."

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"Thanks, it sometimes slips out, especially when I'm upset."

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"Is there anything you want to know about me?"
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"What's your life like? What - sorts of things do you like to do?"

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"This is my first year at university, and if the magic department is really as - optimized to keep me out as it seems like, I'll probably go into medical research instead. I read a lot. I write about how the inside of my head works so I can get it to do what I want, hence the extremely private notebooks."

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"That's really amazing," says Aldaras. "But you can probably find artifacts from - places that aren't at the university, they don't actually have a monopoly on them. Just on - figuring out all of the ins and outs of them."

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"Other research institutes aren't able to do it in such a safe way - and not with tuition my mom can afford, either."

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"... True." He sighs. "Um. I'll give you access to creepy love necklace?"

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"At this time I do not wish to touch the creepy love necklace. There are probably things the Dean could tell you about how it works that would interest me, but... not right now unless I feel the knife calling."

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"Yeah, I figured. Thought I should offer, anyway."

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"Thank you."

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"Anytime."

He's still petting her hair. Pet, pet, pet.
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"I suppose once you've done as much about the knife as you can you'll mold the necklace?"

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"Yeah. And hopefully make it less... creepy."

Though he doesn't seem to be complaining about his results. Pet, pet, pet.
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"I guess you won't know exactly how until you have the Dean's assessment."

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He nods. "I could try to guess, but uh. That could make it worse."

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"Yeah. Please do not nudge the necklace to weaken the effect only to discover that, say, under the full moon you will go on a murderous rampage and only I can stop you."

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Aldaras snorts. "Yeah. That - would be bad. Please don't let me go on a murderous rampage."

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"I will do my best."

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"Thanks, I would really hate to murder people."

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"Good. I hate it when would-be murderers fall in love with me."

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"I can imagine."

Pet, pet, pet.
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It's nice.

"Should you tell your dad he's not your keeper anymore?"
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"Yeah. I'm just - not... Looking forward to telling him about Zevaia."

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"Yeah. That must - be new, being able to not tell him something."
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"Mhm. It - helped that I wasn't thinking about telling my dad, otherwise - yay, guilt trip..."

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"It looked awful."

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"Yeah. It's not fun."

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Annie reaches up to pet his hair.
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This catches him by surprise. He smiles a little, and leans into her hand.

"Thank you."
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"You're welcome."

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"I'm glad it was you."
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"Wouldn't you be no matter who I was? You're - pretty thoroughly gone."

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"Pretty thoroughly," he agrees with a snort. "But you're - being exceptionally nice. About the whole thing."

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"Well, I'm trying."

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"Thank you, for that."

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"You're welcome."

Scritch scritch.

"It would get pretty hard to evaluate myself as a nice person if I started using you for nefarious purposes."
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"A bit, I'd be - really confused about what to do if you were nefarious."

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"Probably some deeply unpleasant combination of writhing around on the floor suffering from guilt trips and carrying out my evil bidding."

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"... No? I mean, there would be some writhing on the floor from guilt trips due to tracker magic, but - if you're genuinely doing something terrible, no. I don't see why I would be carrying out your evil bidding."
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"No? The flyer implies they're bad enough for most anything to be preferable. Obviously you're the one who knows firsthand."

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"Well, yeah, they're - really bad. But if given a choice between getting tortured and doing something terrible for the person torturing me..."

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"Reasonable in principle, I can't speak to how practical it'd be. Fortunately I'm not going to torture you."

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"Thank you very much for that. I appreciate it."

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"Good, it'd be a lot less rewarding to be such a goody twoshoes if nobody were grateful."

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Aldaras smiles a bit, and goes back to petting hair.

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"I have no strong reason to expect this to happen anytime soon, but are you going to be folded-spindled-and-mutilated if I develop a romantic interest in someone who is not you? For that matter, if I develop one in you, just how - sketchy and power-imbalance-y is that, there's no precedent."
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"... I'm likely to pine, if you develop a romantic interest in someone else. But I'm not going to be - folded-spindled-and-mutilated, I think. Just - sort of sad. Which I can handle, so please don't - let that dictate your actions." He fidgets a bit. "Uh... If you develop one in me, specifically... I don't know. Sorry."

He does look like he wants to, though.
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"Okay, so you're just - infatuated, not infatuated with bonus possessiveness, good. ...If you have insights about the second thing let me know."

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"I'm - not sure what you'd want to know? About the second thing?"

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"If we'd somehow managed to just have the parts of today's interaction that didn't involve you being magically in love with me, and then you asked me out, I'd have said yes. You have not asked me out per se, and you are magically in love with me, and I am in a state of uncertainty about how that should affect this matter."

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"... Oh."

Pause.

"I'm pretty sure," he says, musingly, "that I would have liked you a lot before the - creepy love necklace. Possibly enough to ask you out, but that's a bit harder to - guess. Considering."
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"That helps but is not decisive."

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"I'm really not sure how to be decisive without knowing more about the necklace. I feel like me, my head's not - completely insane. I just - happen to be in love with you."

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"Well, the Dean's assistants should call you soon enough, I guess."

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"Yeah. I... You could probably also talk to my father, you might be worried about my head, but he knows my preferences pretty well. For - obvious reasons."

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"That's a good idea. Whenever you're ready to tell him about your sister and everything, I guess."

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"Yeah." He winces. "I... Really shouldn't procrastinate on it."

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"Are you going to call him or go visit, where does he live?"

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"Call, he doesn't live in Drofnfjord. He's in Seldalr."

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"Okay. Well, don't let me stop you."

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"Mhm." He pauses, hesitates, and then settles for patting her shoulder. And then he heads off to retrieve a phone and make a phone call.

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Annie has a book in her bag. She pulls it out, in case eavesdropping turns out to be redundant or difficult.

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"Hey, dad. - No, actually, there's - it - something happened, dad."

And he explains the something. Annie already knows what the something is.

"Yeah, I'm - I'm okay," he assures. "She's - nice. Yeah, if she wants. Annie? Do you want to talk to my dad?"
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"Sure." She collects the phone. "Hi, Aldaras's dad."

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"Hi," says Aldaras's dad. "So, uh. The love thing."

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"The love thing. It's pretty weird. I'm dealing. I'm going to do my best not to harm him."

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"Good, I'm glad. He's a good kid. What are you in college for?"

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"Undeclared at the moment, the magic department seems unfriendly to the concept of privacy so probably medicine."

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"Yeah, it's - pretty bad about that. Why medicine?"

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"Research. Cure cancer or something, I'll have to find out more to know where I'd specialize best."

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"Good for you. You - sound pretty decent."

You know. For a brief phone call that is not the interrogation he wants.
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"I try."

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"I'm glad. ... Is there - anything you need to know about him?"

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"...Is there anything that it would be best for me to find out in partial form as opposed to a complete infodump because I'm his keeper now?"

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"... Complete and utter romantic."

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"He is, you mean? I wasn't sure how much of that was the necklace."

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"He is, yeah. As far as I can tell, it hasn't screwed with him at all. Just the - love thing."

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"That's good to know, then, thank you."

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"... Don't hurt him. I'm - already missing one kid."

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"I'll try my very best. I don't - know what I'm doing, really, but I learn quick. I told him I consider it relevant information if I ever do hurt him, anyway."

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"Good. Thanks. Mind the stoicism. He'll just - ignore himself if you let him."

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"Any guidelines on efficiently wielding keeper status about that?"

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"Uh... Pay attention, he's sometimes a bit too subtle for his own good. And when you see something worrying, ask him about it."

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"Okay. I really do not want to hurt him, I promise."

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"Thanks. I figured I wouldn't be his keeper forever, but - this was not how I was expecting it to go."

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"I'm at least as surprised as you are."

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"I bet," he snorts. "Any worries I can soothe about what he's like?"

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"He's been pretty soothing on his own. Preemptively promising not to stalk me and so on. I had to tell him a couple times that I promised I'd shoo him if I got tired of him petting my hair."

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"Yeah, that's him. Hair petting?"

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"In the initial deluge of secrets he mentioned that he likes my hair, probably for magic reasons, it's nothing special, and that he would like to pet it. And a bit later on I said I wouldn't mind."

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"Aha. Strange. Cute, but strange."

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"The whole thing's strange, but I don't think that thing is strange in context."

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"Fair point."

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"What should I call you besides 'Aldaras's dad'?"

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"Vernus. Or, if you felt like being snarky, Zevaia's dad."

He sounds sort of - sad. About that one. For obvious reasons.
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"There's a chance the necklace will get her back. It's the only thing I've ever heard of that lets someone ignore the knife calling."
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"Yeah. I'm - considering myself pretty damn lucky that Aldaras got out all right."

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"I'm flattered that I fall within the parameters of 'all right' over here."

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"... He's not cut. He's not dead. He's not crazy. He's not permanently crippled. You seem all right. So - pretty damn lucky."

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"Ah, I have - fairly dismal competition. Got it."

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"Yeah. Sorry, not going to lie to you and say I'm thrilled about this, but I am taking my victories where I can get them."

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"No, no, I understand."

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"Good. Sometimes I think people don't, with magic."

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"Don't - what?"

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"Get how high the stakes can be."

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"Mm."

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"But I'm rambling. Pretty sure you and he have got some things to figure out. I'll leave you to it."

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"Okay. Thank you."

And that would seem to be that.
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Yup. Aldaras says a quick goodbye to his dad (with an 'I love you') and then hangs up.

"I have no idea if that helped or not," shrugs Aldaras. "I was - not eavesdropping."
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"He says you may attempt to be excessively stoic."

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"... Accurate, I suppose."

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"Please don't do that."

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"I'll try."

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"Thank you."