[Open to Fellow Investigators]

[remembrances]

[Gilbert has really gotten to the point where he's had enough. He's confused, and he knows he should have paid better attention when people were talking about things before, but he's still just, well, a mess.

Those who know him might not be that surprised by this.]

If someone is... if someone is an infiltrator [That's the word, right? He thinks so. Terminology.] Is there any way to snap them out of it? How long does it last?

[He doesn't like it. Any of it. So he adds, in a mental mutter.] What if you shake them really hard?

[Right okay back to being an adult. A sulking adult.] My brother doesn't remember me. Once this is over, he will again, right? Are there lasting effects? Is it dangerous to him now if I talk to him? I mean, if I'm a reminder of his actual life or anything, it won't break anything in him, right?

[Someday he will not have this many newbie questions. Maybe.] Is there anyone this has happened to before, where you forgot who you were and became someone else because of these Trumps? Were you all right? When it ended... were you really all right?

Comments

[remembrances]

So all questions and no real answers. [That's infuriating, but at least Gilbert knows he's not the only one in the dark.] There has to be some way to find out, but... I don't have time for this. My master is...

[Oz is back home. Without him. Undoubtedly getting himself into trouble. But Elliot is here and alive and. Gilbert's thoughts are a mess right now.

But he's quick to turn to that question.] Ah... no. Not those sorts of chains. Where I'm from Chains are beings from another realm.

[tireur]

The Trumps have no respect for duty, I'm afraid. I would tell you that your master may find his way into our fellowship as well, but that's hardly a consolation.

[He has, himself, come to be relieved that there's been no sign of his monarchs in Liminal Space.

His friends, however, he misses dearly.]

Beings from another realm? Like some breed of spirit?

[Or demon, but that is a loaded question to ask.]

[remembrances]

If he did... mm. This place seems safer, so far. But it's not where we belong either way.

[Having Oz here, at least he could keep an eye on him, keep him safe. At least he'd know that Oz wasn't running off to Salbier without him, facing down all those things without Gilbert at his side.]

Something like that. Corporeal though, sometimes. I have one with me. Raven.

[tireur]

This one does, but there's never any promise of where we might be dispatched to on the next Jaunt. Even the ones that seem safe can have hidden dangers.

[The warning carries an edge of something that is not quite grief, but not so far from it, either.]

What sorts of trouble do these Chains of yours cause? Is it anything the rest of us ought to keep an eye open for?

[remembrances]

That's true. It's not a natural way to exist either, between worlds and times. It isn't the way any of us should have to live.

[His own words are spoken from experience, one not all that different at its most simple, being ripped from the world he knew and transplanted elsewhere. But that move, well, he can't regret that one. It brought him to Oz, after all.

As for the Chains, he takes a moment to figure out the best way to put it.]

It depends on the Chains. Ones that are contracted legally are under the control of their contractor. They only cause the trouble that person sets them to. Others are more dangerous. They devour people. Others are... different. Not dangerous, not intentionally.