Vincent paused to consider that. "Yes... I suppose it does."
He finished his glass of mead and poured himself another one, warming it this time. "There was a much worse facet than what I had become though. It was why I made a certain sacrifice. Andrea had been nearly lost... and it occurred to me that I can't save her as easily as I could my brother or Cassandra."
Vincent stared out across the lake. "I could pursue lines of magic to create new bodies, move souls about like so much clay, but..." He looked over to Moira. "All of that is meaningless when the girl I care for most doesn't have a soul. She's more than simply a robot... but is what makes her 'her' something that could survive being copied?"
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