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Tor was afraid she might bring the conversation around to the subject of his father, and really wasn't fond of the subject. He let out a sigh and motioned towards a table, "Cora, its best if we sit down. This might take some time to explain, and I'll try to avoid any terms that one would have to have an in deaoth knowledge of magic to understand properly." He started around the bar towards the table he had indicated.

As Torment took a seat he pulled forth his knife, setting it on the table with the blade out. The tip was facing Cora, and the handle was facing Torment, "I'm sure you're familiar with the idea of a metaphor. This object, my knife, will be our centerpiece for an extended metaphor. Each person goes about their lives with several string attached to them. These strings can, for the most part, never be seen. Tacitus has more strings than most people. One string connects to Aetas, for whom he is an avatar. Another connects to myself, for I am his son. Further strings connect to reality, time, and even life itself. If this knife were to cut any of those strings, someone could be lost. If the knife is brought against the string connecting Tac and Aetas, Tacitus would cease to exist. The knife did not go for that string. If the string connecting Tacitus to life was cut, however, he would die. The knife pressed here, and the string was severed. Tacitus is a unique man. He has many strings that connect him to life. Ten of them have been cut. I don't know how many more there are. He is still hanging on though, by a string."

He picked up the knife and put it away, "The knife presses no longer. Another knife had been pressing against the string that connects him to Time, and it was intersected many times by this place, but that knife has been removed as well. Tacitus has no more knives pressing on his strings except knives of his own. His heart is one of those knives, Cora."

He closed his eyes for a moment, reciting a song, "You take the blade, you make the change, you rearrange me till I'm sane. Pink Floyd, an interesting group from just before my time. Tacitus may look different after his string was cut, but he is still the same person. I haven't met the new string he's attached himself to, but I can feel him. Obviously not here, but I felt the knife come away from his strings. He's back in my world, somewhere. Changed, but still very much the same."

Tor blinked, "Remind me never to use metaphors again." He nodded slowly though, "Yes, he is alive. I know for a fact my father comes here from the same time that I do. I haven't seen him, but I have my sources that tell me things about a man recently returned to the slums of Barton, miraculously aged ten years. Last I heard it had gotten back to someone I was expressing interest in this man and someone named Diamond was looking for me. People say she needs to know about some guy named James or Joshua or Gordon or something, who people say is the man who has recently returned. People seem to think a great Archmagi like myself can know all these things. I know my father is somewhere in Barton by his au...I know he's there, just not where exactly. I'm thinking this guy might be my father. If it is, then I'll have to find him and have a talk with him, not so much as yourself, but I will."

Tor stood up and moved around the table to get down beside her somewhat and give her a hug of sorts from one side, "Cora, I''m here for you. You need to cry, you just go ahead. You need to talk, hell, I can shut up and listen. There are some things in my world that are hard for even myself to understand, and I''ve experienced my world three times over. I''m here to help anyway I can."

Tor sat listening, still in the half-hug as he listened, silently repeating the name Jordan, the man he was trying to find a name for only moments ago. Tor tried to calm her down, "Cora, you need to stop and take a deep breath. We can work through these things one by one, if you calm down. We'll start at the beginning after you take a breath, the not leaving thing."

Tor notes her hair, backing away slightly and leaving the embrace, though he was still on a lower level to be somewhat equal with her, less the space of a table being in the way. He drew a chair over and decided sitting would be easier, "Cora, I've never heard of someone being in the Brink for that long, ever. My father and I have been coming here from near the very begining of when people started to, of the current group anyway, if there were any before. Maybe you've hit a bit of luck and won't be going back? I think the Brink likes you too much. Either way, even if you don't to go back, do you think you should maybe cut your hair?"

Torment shrugged, "I've never been able to understand this place very well. It gets difficult to wrap your mind around at times." He leans forward a bit, as if inspecting her hair, "You know, if you want to track the length of time you've been here, why not trying growing plants? Flowers and stuff like that. It would be much better than hair, that way you can cut it and keep it short in case you ever suddenly go home. Although I think longer hair suits you." He leaned back in the chair, "You mentioned not having seen Tavin in a while?"