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"Anthea! All that stuff," Gil cuts in, "and you didn't mention the generator one time! Or where you found it, or built it, or— do you have special expertise in the topic? Why don't you tell us?"
"..." Anthea snatches the sachet from Ellery's hand and inhales deeply. The smoke pales again. "Yes. Thanks for asking. Um, I originally got into spelunking from a psychoarcheological standpoint, thus the focus on ruined and abandoned manses, but this also involved a lot of research on subspace— um, there's a mode of thought that—"
"Charlotte," Ellery hisses, and jerks his head.
"—all unreal spaces, including manses, but also pocket dimensions, aux spaces, rifts, even the Edges, are in some metaphysical, semi-spatial sense interconnected, so that—"
Anthea is distracted. Gil is riveted. Ellery is maintaining the eye contact. You could stay and listen to a metaphysical lecture, or you could talk to Ellery. Rock and a hard place. But Ellery might have <span class="mu-i">something</span> interesting to say.
You sidle away. Gil sees you leave, but doesn't seem to register it. And what does it matter if you talk to Ellery? It's not illegal. It's not like he can blow himself up <span class="mu-i">now.</span>
Anyways, you're well away from everybody now. Ellery scans around, to make extra sure of this, then returns his attention to you. "So. Herald."
"Don't call me that," you say, and fiddle with your neckline.
"Why? It's you. Right from their mouths. They're not really dead, right?"
"Uh..." Management, right? "...I think the ones you killed are really dead. The others... I don't know. I don't think they're coming back soon, since they— they were all routed through the BrainWyrm. And I imploded it."
"You imploded it. You sure did." Ellery toys with one of the holes in his neck. "Heroic of you. I lived, by the way."
"Um... I figured."
"I lived because you decreed it. <span class="mu-i">Herald.</span> I am at your command. I'm not <span class="mu-i">important</span> enough not to be."
He's doing the evil leading question thing. You keep your mouth shut.
"That's why I can't kill myself any other way, see? You wouldn't like it. And if you don't like it, it can't happen. Your rules. Your story. Your <span class="mu-i">script.</span> I can't tell you what to do, and I can't do what I want to do. All I can do is beg like a fucking dog. Are we on the same page?"
You're not even in the same book. "Uh..."
"Okay. So here goes. <span class="mu-i">When</span> you wield your ultimate destined power, when you decide my fucking eternal fate, don't make me live. Kill me. If you can't do that, don't make me live like <span class="mu-i">this.</span> You can't possibly hate me enough to make me live like this, Charlotte. I don't want a body. I don't want a life. I want to be something <span class="mu-i">else.</span> I am begging. Do you understand me?"
You understand the words. You're not sure about the rest of it.
(Choices next.)