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"That sounds likely faster than waiting for Ice and Cypress to come back."

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"Probably," agrees Prime. "Though maybe it'll take an afternoon and they'll be back before - I don't know, dinner or something."

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"I got the impression her spells took more development time than that."

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"As did I, but I try and nurse the tender half-dead thorny bush that is my optimism where I can."

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"You do not seem particularly similar to Cypress. Maybe Rae can confirm for sure when he gets here for board games."

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"I doubt it's a mistake, five hundred years is just a very long time. He's - what I would be if I were twenty and in love instead of five hundred and not."

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"Well, Rae can check anyhow. That's how they found me, actually, he heard Isabella talking and thought she was me."

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"Useful. How can he tell, is it magical sparkly god powers?"

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"Magic sparkly god powers, yeah." Idania retrieves her vial of sand. "Psssst. Hey. Rae. Remember magic nap guy? He's got another him that's up for playing board games with us, and also he's like - super sarcastic." Pause. "Okay, see you then!"

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Prime blinks, slowly, at this apparent bout of crazy, but he then decides that it's a magic thing so he'll roll with it.

"Super sarcastic," he repeats.
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"It's accurate!" defends Idania.

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"It is," confirms Aya.

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"I suppose so," shrugs Prime, with a sigh.

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"By the way, do not let Rae win just because he's a deity."

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"It annoys him!"

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"Then by all means, I will do my best to win on my own merits."

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"You'll still lose. Just don't do it on purpose."

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"Thank you, ray of sunshine, you're helping the optimism bush immensely."

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"Do you want help with your emotional shrubbery?"

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"No," he snorts.

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"Awww, but we could get emotionally healing watering pails and everything! Little shears of brutal honesty to snip away the bad parts!"

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"Don't needle him, Idania."

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"Awwww. Heartbreak, I might have actually been able to not have a gardening attempt backfire terribly for once! I was excited!"

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"Those sentences do not make me want to hand over the metaphorical emotional gardening tools to you." He sniffs. "I'll have you know that I am a grown man and can garden my own emotional shrubbery, thank you. Occasionally with swear words, pyromania, and copious applications of math, but I manage."

He is joking.
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"Well, restrain the pyromania around here and we'll get along, I imagine."

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