what brings you here?

[small_magics]

Isibel lives in her enchanted village, in a hollowed and conveniently-shifting great tree. She travels from it frequently, when she has a new enchantment or elfspell designed that will help someone, or when she meets with the leaders of this or that culture to learn more about their needs, or when someone accepts her offer of torching. The population of Thilanushinyel is not as large as that of Origin, and it may even contain fewer political units, but certainly there are more species; she has a steep learning curve and she throws herself into it.

Today, she is at home. She is not in deep meditation, but she might look like it, eyes closed, floating crosslegged in the air, not paying attention to the weight of the clothes on her body or the wreath of sunny yellow-berried blue-leafed holly resting on her hair, just thinking about hurricanes and the most efficient way to prevent them from forming over the sea. (She can channel immense spells. She is not sure how immense, and it would be very dangerous to lose hold of one. She retains some concern for limiting the size of her enchantments.)

When she is busy with something she cannot interrupt, her door is locked. Today it is not. There were no hurricanes when she last checked, and if any form in the next few hours, she will be able to address them on the spot, she knows; this spell is not urgent on that scale.

If anyone needs her they may come in.

Comments

[small_magics]

"Yes. Only thirteen - and the one some of us were looking into - have Bells in them, though. Bells is what those of my template call ourselves."

[pythbox]

"Template?"

[small_magics]

"I mentioned that they are versions of myself; we are all versions of each other. Sewn in the same pattern, as it were. The recurring sort-of-person that we are is our template."

[pythbox]

"Oh," says Lycaelon. "Does everyone have one?"

[small_magics]

"No. At least, we don't think so. Certainly some templates are much more common than others - Bells most so, thus far, closely followed by my beloved."

[pythbox]

"Really? How many of your Bondmate are there? It must get crowded if you put them all together. Dragons are big."

[small_magics]

"There are eleven of my beloved, or fourteen, depending on how you count - one world does some peculiar things to personal identity. Only the one of them is a dragon. I am also the only Bell who is an elf, so far. Most worlds don't have either species, although humans appear everywhere we've looked."

[pythbox]

"...Where do the three extras of him come from? Or go to? What other species are there besides humans, everywhere else? Or is it just humans? You'd think it would be just elves if it was going to be just anybody; you were here first, weren't you?"

[small_magics]

"The histories of worlds don't match in that way - well, many do, but ours is off-type," says Isibel. "There are all manner of species, although some worlds have only humans among those who think and speak, and others blur the question of whether their inhabitants are the same species or not. The world that does peculiar things to personal identity has its inhabitants' souls exist outside of them, in the form of animals generally speaking, called daemons. There is one of me and one of my beloved from there - depending on how you count, because their souls have their own bodies and names. And visitors to this world, if they go unprotected by magic, will acquire the same. My beloved and another of that template have visited the world and obtained daemons of their own. As have two of me, not including myself."

[pythbox]

"Talking animal souls," he says. "Wow."

[small_magics]

"Yes. If I had one, it would be a raccoon, but I do not particularly want my soul to be a raccoon."

[pythbox]

"I don't think I'd want my soul to be a raccoon, either," he says, blinking. "How did you know what it was going to be?"

[small_magics]

"A square suffices to show it. Do you want to know yours?"

[pythbox]

He shrugs. "Okay!"

[small_magics]

Square.

[pythbox]

Skunk.

Lycaelon laughs.

[small_magics]

Isibel giggles. "They are supposed to mean things about oneself, but I do not know how accurate these suppositions may be, particularly outside the world where they are commonplace."

[pythbox]

"I like my skunk," says Lycaelon, looking at it approvingly. "I mean, I don't want my skunk, but skunks are all right."

[small_magics]

"I have similar feelings about raccoons." She dismisses the illusion. "Those of me who have instantiated daemons have birds. An owl, a hawk, a duck."

[pythbox]

"Is there some reason for that?"

[small_magics]

"It is not clear. The accuracy of anything natives of Alethia have learned about what daemon species mean is in question. It is probably not a coincidence that those with birds were more interested in acquiring them than me, although there were more possible birds among us and two of us would have received tiny dragons -" She holds her hands three feet apart. "And had not chosen to do so last I heard."

[pythbox]

"...Tiny dragons," he giggles. "That's adorable."

[small_magics]

"It is!"

[pythbox]

"Why is the accuracy in question...?"

[small_magics]

"Because there are so many kinds of animal a daemon could be," says Isibel. "If one is very common, of course the people who have it will be different from each other - any large group of people are different from each other. If one is less common, there is no way to know whether commonalities between those people are related to their daemon or sheer coincidence. They have drawn some conclusions anyway - but then daemons normally choose forms around puberty. Acquiring them as an adult might be different in some way; we do not know."