This is not Idaia's closet.
It's something weird.
That could be either a really good thing or a really bad thing.
She probably wasn't going to succeed at what she needed to succeed at anyway; worth the gamble.
She steps inside.
This is not Idaia's closet.
It's something weird.
That could be either a really good thing or a really bad thing.
She probably wasn't going to succeed at what she needed to succeed at anyway; worth the gamble.
She steps inside.
"...I calmed down after I realized nothing was going to eat me immediately - and I wasn't worried about you - was worried about Fëanáro, had a bunch of language books around to distract him if he showed up and couldn't leave right away -"
"If he didn't get insta-eaten. I don't have a way to distinguish between 'the Valar successfully protected me' and 'turns out Materia only cares about science done on its turf'."
"The latter makes some sense to me? If it's being experimented on that Materia objects to - not that we should ever find out -"
"I am not mentioned in even the long versions of their history but I think I can piece together what I would have done. I think after the harbor massacre I would have been unwilling to keep following Fëanáro absent any reason to think I could calm him down, which it does not seem like anyone was able to do."
"But perhaps I should have gone anyway. Not being complicit in things is not a very good thing to prioritize."
"Yeah."
Here is Bella's place. She shows him in and collects her nonredundant belongings.
He compliments her magic and will carry things that require any carrying and generally is relieved she is okay.
And Idaia and Tyelcormo are collapsed on the bed clinging and sobbing and Fëanáro is peppering anyone within earshot with questions as he learns to read English.
Eventually he will pull himself together and cling to her in a more upright fashion and say do we all have a language in common? Quenya?
Okay! We're driving to our family's home, in Canada, about twenty-six hours of driving from here, and I think we should leave now.
"Twenty-six hours at your speed, or the speed of a sane person, who is me, since I'm driving, because no one else is both capable of driving and not emotionally incapacitated."
"Might be more at your pace, dunno. I don't usually drive at the car's maximum speed, I don't usually get my dead wife back."
"True. Hi, by the way, nice to see you again, I am also back, I recognize that you have plenty of reason to be less excited about this."
"Oh, I'm sure you realize it's important that I'm alive, but that's not the same thing as exciting."