Ivans are playing cards.
Mileses, including Solvei, are debating the wisdom of borrowing another strategy game from Bar; Mark, a voice of caution, does not know what will happen if all of them (Solvei, Mial, Miles, Milo, Stalas) all start screaming at each other in twenty directions.
And -
"And it's reasonably tidy that instances of Miles and Mark are named after their Nexus incarnations. You have an opportunity to continue this pattern and no especially good reason not to, as far as I can see," says Solvei.
"If there was a Nexus version of me, I wouldn't mind ceding the collective to him," says Elarron. "...There isn't, right?"
Inlaith looks curiously at him.
"In," Mark glances at Milan, "some Science Fantasy Lands, it's possible to produce an identical twin of someone if you have a little piece of them to copy from. Someone stole a little piece of Miles and made me, intending that I would kill and impersonate him and then murder his family. I decided I would rather not do that."
"Neither do I," says Inlaith.
"I hardly think this is a very logical situation," says Inlaith.
"Solvei and I both had creators who for various reasons desired that we undergo horrible suffering," says Mark. "If you were just—born—then I don't see where the torture might be meant to come into it."
"I do sort of feel like I'm missing something now, though," Inlaith admits.
"Something you're better off without."
"How sure are you of that?"
"...Maybe if I had a Mark I would already know the answer to this question," says Milan, "but why is 'perhaps I would be better off if I had been tortured more in my childhood' even something that occurs to you?"
"Can't argue," says Inlaith.
"Oh, and now you too have been inexplicably charmed by an Ivan," says Mark. "It's a pattern."
"Happened with the half-alt fellow too. Him and his Bell are gone now, leaving only a magic blood sample in Miles as evidence."
"Fragile bones," says Milo, pointing at himself, "also fragile bones," at Miles.
"I don't know what to call it, it doesn't break bones or leave scars, it just hurts," says Ashras. "And my brothers have it too."
"And I'm a shren," says Mial, "which is complicated to explain, but the relevant parts are that I age ten times slower than a human and for the first twenty years of my life I was in a steadily increasing amount of pain, on a scale such that adult shrens can fail to notice a broken bone because it doesn't hurt enough to get our attention."
"My bones belong to Sis and are therefore fine, but it would be them if they weren't," says Solvei.