“That is true, I’m not the real Hythlodaeus, but I also don’t know who else to be. And I wouldn’t want to be anyone else anyway. I’m not precisely a “who” besides... But I do have free will and mind of my own. That was a circumstance of my creation after all.”
"So when they take us," Steven says quietly, "they take a sliver of our soul and wrap some junk around it and make... copies of us. Fake versions. And they stick them into our lives and they live our lives for us." He doesn't say anything for a long moment. Then, "Mine really fucked up my life when I was away. That's why I couldn't just... tell the government it was me, I was captive, but I'm not anymore, so you can un-declare me dead. Because the fake with my name and face was there."
"They say we get that part of us back if we kill them," Steven says quietly. "I think about killing mine a lot. I hadn't when I was brought here. If I went home, I think I would."
“Well... it does sound as if it would be within your rights to do so. This creature was made to harm you, made of you even. It seems... rather clear cut, morally.”
Steven finds himself nodding, despite everything, and then yawns.
"Yeah. Sorry. I only went to bed a couple hours ago. We're both inclined to stay up late and I don't work until noon these days. Call you back later tonight?"
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“What is a fetch?” he asks, voice soft.
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“I am surprised that you would not be able to rejoin that sliver of your soul back to yourself, but... I’m not sure if you would want that either?”
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"Yeah. Sorry. I only went to bed a couple hours ago. We're both inclined to stay up late and I don't work until noon these days. Call you back later tonight?"
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