[A small shrug] You could ask me whatever, I'd answer. I don't have much to hide.

[He pause's as he lifts a hand to look at, then shakes some of the lingering lightning sparks off of it] There's a science on Auldrant. Fomicry. It creates replicas, copies of things. Generally inanimate things; supplies, weapons, and the like.

And while it's forbidden to do so on people, that hasn't stopped some people. [His teeth grit] I never brought up there being two of you, because I know I've always hated being compared to him.