prime

[dark_light]

Aya names her adopted world Pantheon, and nicknames herself Spring (in the sense of springs of water, like those her goddess is of). Isabella and Adarin stay long enough to make her a mirror set (the other half accompanies them, in space in Isabella's portal bag made by the used-up resurrection herbs), make a portal in a nook of the chosen mountaintop between Pantheon and Chamomile, and leave a marker for another so there will be an easy chain from Chamomile to Pantheon to the home of the elderly and apparently lonesome Adarin.

And when they have done all of this, they stay long enough for not-lonesome Adarin to recover enough mana, and -

they go visit his alt.

Comments

[prodigal_miser]

The plane is exactly the same. The moonlight and starlight feels the same, the sky looks the same, there's even recognizable landmarks in the rocks and landscape. They're on the night side of the planet, near to Adarin's home. Some of the buildings are vaguely recognizable - but most of them are utterly foreign. Utterly foreign and like they've been there a while. Hundreds of years, a while.

But the house they're aiming for is mostly unchanged. It's recognizably Adarin's - with a few key differences. There are tweaks, here and there. The windows shimmer, it's impossible to see through them - and the lights brighten automatically at their approach. There is a button that looks like the magical equivalent of a doorbell.

Of course, when they ring it, there's no answer.

"... Well. he's probably around somewhere, if not in his house? I suppose I could scry?"

[dark_light]

"I suppose." Isabella tries knocking, just in case.

[darkest_evening]

No answer.

And then a tired looking older gentleman with white hair comes walking down the street. He looks like he is about to drop where he stands, like he wants to curl up somewhere quiet and sleep for the next century.

He stops, when he sees them. He raises an eyebrow.

[dark_light]

Isabella smiles and waves at him.

[darkest_evening]

Immediately after, there is a shield-bubble around the two of them.

"Okay," says the man, walking up to it. "If you manage to beat my day with whatever this is you get a prize."

[prodigal_miser]

"Um," says Adarin, peering at the shield. "That was a bit uncalled for, hello to you, too."

[dark_light]

"Seconded on the uncalled-for. We're friendly."

[darkest_evening]

"That remains to be seen!"

He plops into a nearby bench and looks at them expectantly. "So, I'm sure there is an explanation for this. If there isn't I will be disappointed in you."

[dark_light]

"Um, he's an alternate-universe version of you and I'm his wife, there's one more of you guys and two more of me that we've found so far, and we have come to visit and - be friendly."

[darkest_evening]

Sloooooow blink.

"Well I commend your creativity, that's a new one."

[prodigal_miser]

"Uh, that's - actually what's going on here. Hi, my name's Adarin? We are traveling to other planes to help them and add them to a - sort of... collective. Of Isabellas and Adarins."

[darkest_evening]

"Hi, Adarin," says the elderly version of him. "I'm Adarin. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He takes out a little shimmery bauble from a pocket in his jacket, and holds it up to look through it. Another eyebrow raise, at whatever the results of this are.

"Well that's interesting," he says, pocketing it. "You're a mage. And I have no idea who you are."

[dark_light]

"He's just told you," says Isabella. "He's a you. You two seem more similar - in respects other than age, anyway - than either of you is to the other one, Edarial, based on our current surroundings," she gestures. "Same magic system, same sort of planet."

[darkest_evening]

"Uh huh. Because that is the most reasonable explanation here. Obviously."

[dark_light]

"What else would be going on?"

[darkest_evening]

[prodigal_miser]

"Oh," says her husband. "He thinks I'm a bastard."

[darkest_evening]

"Except! That doesn't make sense without magic. Unethical, terrible, nonconsensual magic."

[dark_light]

"Oh, come on, that would be a preposterous quantity of family resemblance, and why would an unethically-sourced bastard child who looked exactly like you show up on your doorstep only in his early twenties anyway instead of earlier with a relevantly unethical somebody in tow or not at all, and how do you propose to explain me -?" She has her cloud-pine, and gestures at it. "Look, can your doohickey tell if this is mage magic or not? Because it isn't." She turns it sideways, lets it go. It floats placidly.

[darkest_evening]

Head-tilt.

"Huh," he says. "Now that's interesting."

[dark_light]

Isabella crosses her arms and leans them on the floating branch. "Look, when you were his age did you ever go plane-hopping looking for chamomile?"

[darkest_evening]

"Among other things, yes."

[prodigal_miser]

"Well, when I went looking for chamomile, I found a planet with its own type of magic. And there I met Isabella -" He motions to her. "- fast forward two years and we were married and taking over the world with portal economics and an objective truth teller that helped her crack resurrection. And immortality, that too."

[darkest_evening]

"Well that's very interesting."

[dark_light]

"Yup. I came with resurrection supplies in case you want your Veron back if you have one - actually I brought three resurrections' worth but I used two on the way, we had to make a stop before we came here because it was too far for a single hop and while we were there we found a me dead of old age and retrieved her and a friend of hers."