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Milliways was, for the most part, a place of simple pleasures for Lyrae Addam. She would sit and read by the fire, often with tea, sometimes with wine. Today was one of the latter, while she continued reading her book of biographies. She was most of the way through it.

It was a pleasant on the whole.

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Well, mostly.

Until Lyrae Dent shows up, stepping cautiously in through Antar's door, one foot in front of the other, slow and steady, she's here to see her father and stepmother, don't stop and talk, don't stop, don't --

She stops.

And stares.

Not a sound.

A glance up from her book.

She blinks.

And stares.

The resemblance was truly uncanny. No wonder even her family had made confused them. After a brief moment, she regained her composure and spoke quietly to her.

"Greetings, Lady Lyrae."

And the Dent girl winks with one eye, bluegreenbrown like her mother's, and half-smiles.

Ditto.

She's learning phrases, clearly, from Andrew Largeman.

A blink in surprise as she hears the girl's voice in her mind. How very odd, and as to what ditto meant... A curious look as she tilts her head to the side. A habit that had been picked up by her son.

Pardon, my lady?

It's -- it means 'the same to you.' I learned it in another world.

Which may have been, in a way, her own.

Maybe.

I cannot speak with my voice. You may. I have never minded.

A firm nod from Lyrae as a small, almost sad look on her face.It was a shame to lose one's voice.

If you are more comfortable this way, then I do not mind.

A gentle gesture to the seat across from her.

Please. Sit. I am sure that we have much to discuss.

It must look odd, she laughs mentally, to anyone walking by. Identical faces at a table looking and yet not speaking a word.

Though some of her family can hear.

But she can speak, so this can't be her, unless something went wrong somewhere -- nevertheless, she does.

A light laugh from Lyrae as she smiled.

I am sure it does.

A pause. The girl had a touch of a V'Saine accent to her speech. How very curious, indeed.

Would you like a cup of tea, V'Saine-brewed perhaps?

Of course.

It's kinder than just diplomatic.

She's either talking to herself, or someone who may prove to be very, very important.

How, she wouldn't be inclined to know, but she knows something about having lookalikes.

That she learned from her mother.

Where did you come from?

Lyrae turned and ordered a cup of tea for the other Lyrae from a passing waitrat. In the meantime, she sipped her wine and commented idly.

A little village called Shorelle in the Second Age.

Oh --

That little smile lingers.

I've very much wanted to go there myself.

A blink of curiosity from Lyrae. Why would anyone want to visit that small village? It was a beautiful place to be sure but nothing to make it stand out.

If I may ask, why? It is a very beautiful village, but it has little to offer.

It does.

RandomLyraeAnnabel spins her hair around her index finger.

Solitude. I need it to write. Music comes from the air, not from social bustling. So much noise makes it so hard.

A small smile from Lyrae as she recalls her son having such an attitude before he....

Yes, my son had a similar attitude. He would wander the beaches and caves nearby endlessly searching for inspiration to write his music.

Your son.

Blink.

Blink.

Hairspin.

... my father?

Lyrae frowns.

Why would you-

But then, Ford Prefect had said that there had been a man, close to a father, a man who called himself Jasin Natael, but had been one of the Forsaken.

Very carefully, and very quietly,

My son's name was Joar Addam, before he... He changed.

Slowly, she nods.

I -- know the story. My mother. And some of my books --

She reaches for her bag, to display her (Joar's) (Jasin's) (gleeman teacher of Rand's) harp.

A harp. One that would be much like her son would use. Was this girl really her... granddaughter? The family resemblance was certainly quite keen if she were. It made sense in a certain light.

Oh.

She seemed so very sure that they were related. This was... shocking.

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