[Hythlodaeus cannot help but startle at the sudden display of affection--a rarity among their people, to put it lightly. And yet...
And yet it is a welcome one, a steadying presence in the swirling seas of his mind. As he had done with the whole of them when they all were yet one. The blessing and the curse that only they two know.]
Dearest friend... And here I thought that might be Ericthonios.
[A little levity, a gift, and a hand on his shoulder to know that he is appreciated.]
I've heard my share from the man, though 'tis not wholly his words that have given me pause.
[He glances down at Elidibus--Themis--and then to Hades in the kitchen, and... hesitates. Hades knows his worries well, for they had spoken of them some time ago. But Themis... Would this serve only to bring up old wounds?
The waters should be tested first, he decides, and he turns his gaze back to Themis, ever gauging his reactions.]
I'm still attempting to grow used to all of this, I suppose. While I've never been one to shy away from new experiences, this talk of dragons and other worlds and other selves still comes a greater shock than I expected.
And here I thought I was your dearest friend, Themis.
[He interjects from the kitchen, though there's the barest hint of amusement in his cadence as he continues his work with far more measured motions than he employed earlier. A little extra levity, and perhaps silent acknowledgment that though he will not interrupt them unnecessarily, he's still paying keen attention.]
[When Themis pulls from Hythlodaeus's reach the look he shoots at Emet-Selch is almost a perfect replica of one that may be found on the other's face. So, too, is the exaggerated sigh he heaves, fully put-upon as he slides back into the chair he'd vacated. The way his eyes practically glitter show his true feelings - the mirth that he's holding within his breast, the affection and amusement that run thick.
Then he quirks a brow up, looking between the two of them.]
Though if we are to question the titles of 'dearest friend,' I must point out the glaring hypocrisy of maintaining it between the two of you as well as our own mutual friend of Azem. If, of course, we are to consider that an individual may only be possessed of one such friend - which is a belief I do not aspire to hold.
[He winks.]
If we are to be exact, Erichthonios would be my dearest fiancé amongst other things.
[While he does not sober, Themis's features settle in to an easy smile. This feels good. Feels right. But he did catch on to Hythlodaeus's testing of the waters.
Though not entirely sure of the exact nature of the man's thoughts he knows how to cast his net wide. He had far more time than the two of them to come to terms with the idea of choices made and not, of separate existences.]
I suspect that it would be shock indeed. It was partially due to the nature of my previous location - the one Byleth speaks of - that allowed me an easier time of it. Though I must admit living in a physical form and being free from emotional and mental manipulation is far preferable.
[Hythlodaeus hides his amusement behind his hand, shoulders shaking.]
A judgment only fitting of the esteemed Elidibus himself. I shall endeavor to be more specific in the future. My dearest, adventurous friend and my dearest, dourest friend, mayhap?
I will need some time for yourself, of course. My dearest, most engaged friend will only be fitting for so long.
[His smile comes easier, yet falters by the end of Themis's short explanation of his previous circumstances.]
...Aye, I imagine it would be.
['Tis little wonder he's adjusted to all this so much easier than Hythlodaeus has.]
[A dismayed exclamation can be heard from the kitchen as Emet-Selch is fixed with that look that so mirrors his own, all bluster and mock offense. For an old man, Elidibus, you certainly are a cheeky devil! But he will let this one slide, seeing as it has managed to set his first friend to giggling openly.]
[He grumbles audibly, making sure the both of them can make out what he says next, even if it's a blatant misrepresentation of how he truly feels.]
The entire lot of you are utterly and unendingly incorrigible! If only I could determine which of you is more so and whom among you is the most tolerable thorn in my side.
[Dourest friend, indeed!]
[It's as Hythlodaeus falls quiet again that Emet-Selch returns, placing a freshly steaming mug upon the table nearest him and seating himself at another edge of the table between the two. This time he has also returned with a pot of the remaining coffee. Any cream or milk will simply have to be requested.]
Indeed. Despite the general unpleasantness of our draconic transformations, what we have remains our own. Now is the time to determine what role it is we wish to play within the grand scheme of things and to discover what we can - so that we are all prepared for whatever lies ahead.
[While he had respected Emet-Selch's need for him to not make physical contact, it is clear that Hythlodaeus is nothing of that same sort. Themis pours himself more coffee and slides the pot over towards the other two. A long sip does much to warm him physically to match the way his friends have done so emotionally, taking it black this time. The bitterness is bracing, and does him good.
Then, he reaches his free hand out to rest it upon Hythlodaeus's arm. His fingers curl gently, to support and ground.]
I could perhaps be your dearest, shortest friend?
[He grins as he says it, taking the easy joke at his own expense for what it is. Slight pressure with his fingertips follow.]
Emet-Selch is correct in his statements. But it is important to recognize that none of us are alone in this. You are yourselves, none other, and you are not alone. Whatever it is you may need, I am here for you. I will be here for you. However you decide that support may be, whatever you need, I will see it through.
Edited (forgot an entire sentence) 2024-11-23 07:28 (UTC)
[Both Hades and Themis's quips bring another laugh to his lips. It warms him, chases away that pit in his stomach for a time. And even when it returns, it is lighter than it was before. Something that seems surmountable, if still terribly daunting.]
You are not wrong. And I truly am blessed for your presence--for both your presence. And the presence of still more. Though...
[He summons a small carafe of cream and a bowl of sugar with the wave of his hand and sets about to pouring himself a cup of coffee.]
Emet-Selch is somewhat closer to the mark with my worries, I confess--mayhap because 'tis a subject we have already discussed. Or... "touched on," I suppose would be more accurate. Byleth's account was a shocking one, yes, but 'twas the man's reaction to it all that left more a mark.
[He finishes stirring in the sugar and sets the spoon to the side, then takes the cup in hand, clinging to it like a lifeline.]
"I don't know where I end and the other Byleth begins," the man said. A... familiar feeling for Themis and myself both, I imagine.
[Emet-Selch, for his part, has settled into a comfortable but attentive silence, content to listen and watch as the other two speak. While he still has much to think about, yes, any lingering uncertainties he harbors with regard to the Byleth situation are trivial at best. Yet as for this new direction... Emet-Selch pauses as he lowers his mug. He'll put a pin in this for later, for the next time he and the professor come face-to-face, but-]
[Something the two of them can relate to, hmn?]
[He frowns, feeling the hollow chill of an old, unrelenting ache that threatens to creep back into his heart despite the fortifying warmth of strong coffee and familiar company.]
This isn't solely about the dragons, is it? You refer to your time within Zodiark, or so I assume.
Aye. Though given that this may be somewhat of a diversion to the topic at hand--and that I am an intruder to your conversation, purposefully or no--I would be more than understanding should you prefer to avoid such concerns. 'Tis hardly any trouble.
Did you require a written invitation? I'd have thought the tender embrace would have served to alleviate any doubts you had about whether you are welcome in our kitchen.
[Emet-Selch sighs heavily.]
Besides, what is a conversation if not a series of diversions strung together and debated between friends?
Your concerns are just as valid as mine are, if not more so. And I will be the first to assure you that Themis here is not about to take his leave now that you have presented them. That's why he has let himself in, after all.
[He glances across the table at Themis. Clearly he's far more equipped to address Hythlodaeus's concerns than he is.]
Though if you would prefer that I grant the two of you some privacy...
[He doesn't intend to leave, but the offer is there if Hythlodaeus will feel more comfortable discussing such things in private with another who has experienced them. Rare is it for Hythlodaeus to admit that he is troubled, and Emet-Selch would prefer that he have the opportunity to air his concerns one way or another, even if he doesn't get to be a part of that process.]
[The floor comes to him, as it so often has in the past. He finds himself brought back to golden walls and a circle of chairs adorned with friends. Though the name used is different, how often has Emet-Selch passed discussion to him in that warm, welcoming place? It's far too easy to draw the parallels now.
Warm coffee. Good friends. A home shared.
That cold time where he was both alone and made many is easier to stave off, now, when he is so close to those he loves. He knows that of which Hythlodaeus speaks all too well. Their situations and experiences were markedly different but ultimately came to the same conclusion.
The loss of the self.
When he speaks it's with a laugh in his voice and fondness in his eyes.]
You both are so alike, offering to leave so readily in order to spare the other. I, for one, would speak with you both here. It will bring no further harm to my psyche to speak on my experience with friends - my dreams do that well enough.
[Memories mixed with dreams. A foreign face where his should be in the mirror - but when he attempts to remember his own, it slips through his fingers. People whose identity catches in his throat, leaving him only with the idea that he loves them enough to keep going. One foot after the other, shedding himself piece by piece. For love.
He shakes his head and turns towards Hythlodaeus.]
The path I walked is no doubt different from your own, thrust to the fore as I was. My awareness was ceaseless in that I lacked any capacity to lose sight of what we had given of ourselves to achieve. But in that clarity, I was ever aware of each and every voice that had joined with mine, a choir made of the initial sacrifice as well as the subsequent joining. It was...
[He trails off, looking over now towards Emet-Selch.]
[Elidibus is not wrong, but truth be told, Hythlodaeus had wondered if he need spare Elidibus as well. He had slept those 12,000 years away, but Themis... Both time and the Many had taken much from him leading up to his death.
He would have understood completely if Elidibus had preferred to leave such things behind, to open those wounds up another day, if ever again.
But still he speaks, and Hythlodaeus inclines his head as he listens, the edge of his cup hovering near his lips, the heat and scent grounding him to this world even as Elidibus's world brings him back to their own.]
...Indeed. Though nowhere near the extent that you must have felt, I... I too remember the edges of my "self" fraying. Wholly myself at one moment, and one amongst the mourning many the next. My hope, their grief, and a thousand, thousand wishes besides...
That you managed to cling to aught of yourself for any period of time after is nothing short of astounding.
['Alike...?? he wonders to himself. 'Spare the other?']
[Well, perhaps.]
[Emet-Selch meets that steady blue gaze, but for the moment, he says nothing. After all, his experiences, too, are markedly different. Where they had feared losing themselves, he instead had been left to watch as those around him began to wane, piece by piece chipping away until naught but duty remained.]
[His had been the burden of remembering. Family, friends, loved ones, names and faces all... as they began to slip from Lahabrea and Elidibus's grasp, Emet-Selch had taken the burden upon his own shoulders. His nightmare had been the heavy, ceaseless plod of time, the fear of failure, cracking beneath the weight of such precious cargo; losing them. Losing everything where those he held dear already had. And oh he had mourned each minute detail as it sifted through his fingers, his vision a final bastion for them all. He had held the hopes and the dreams, and the despairs of many, empowered by the fallen souls of their people.]
[Like them, he too had felt a pull urging him ever forward, bound by duty and cognizant of Zodiark's will. But not quite in the way they describe. This choir of which they speak he will never know as intimately as they do. To him, that song is synonymous with the voice of their Dark Lord.]
It wore thin, after a time, the walls between ourselves and those that clamored beside us. So long of hearing their voices it is no wonder that it was difficult to discern my own. Had it been but a few, I believe I would have been able to hold fast to the rest of me, but with so many? The outcome was certain from the start. But my ability to last as long as I did is not so strange, when one considers who I am. Who I have always been.
[The intensity some had teased him for. That eagerness and sincerity in everything he did. The way he loved so thoroughly and deeply that he never knew what to do with himself, turbulent oceans beneath a placid surface. It had saved him, in the end.
His fingers press gently into Hythlodaeus's arm, a comfort for the both of them.]
Some part of me is glad that I may share in the experience with another. That we may draw strength and support from that which we both understand - though in the same breath I wish you be free of it.
[Never would he wish for his own comfort at the detriment to another. If he could take the memories and pain from his friend and suffer alone, he would do it in an instant. Better that he can't.
His free hand slides across the table towards Emet-Selch in a familiar motion, leaving it there. He sees you, Hades. He refuses to let you suffer in silence.]
But we remain. Our experiences have changed us, yes, but I believe that down to your core you remain yourself. Think back to the man you were when you stumbled upon me at the Capital, daydreaming about the events of Pandaemonium. The man you were whilst you adventured in Elpis. Would you, now, make any choices different to those he would have made?
[He holds tight to the sensation, grounding as it is, and takes a moment to mull the question over. It isn't an easy one to answer--far from it. With every recollection comes every regret, the steps he could have taken if he knew this or that, and the possible futures that could have come up as a result of those choices besides.]
...Nay. I don't believe I would.
[He isn't wholly certain of that fact, but neither does he believe it possible to be certain.]
Regardless of what occurred, all that I did, I did in the belief that I might provide the path to a brighter future for those that I love. And while it may not have happened the way I intended, in the end, that did come to pass.
[A beautiful star brimming with possibility for those who came after.]
[Again Emet-Selch acknowledges the offering with a glance, yet he does not move to take it. Perhaps he can do one better after this discussion comes to an end, but for now he simply crosses his arms. He doesn't seem angry exactly, nor does he seem particularly upset. Merely thinking, considering their words.]
[Well. Perhaps it is better that such a question was not posed of him. Unlike Hythlodaeus, his answer is not so charitable. He is the same man, yes, but in many ways he is forever changed. Oh, his convictions remain ever true, but the eons have afforded him much to ponder, much to weep over and regret, challenged his sense of morality and what is good and just and necessary in such a way that even he was surprised at the results. The Emet-Selch who had implored Hythlodaeus journey with him to Elpis in search of Hermes and the Emet-Selch who dutifully stood outside the counsel hall an hour early each and every morning could not have fathomed what had come to pass nor the many things he had wrought with his own hands. How can he say that his choices would be the very same with the knowledge he now wields?]
[But that is his own burden to bear. The question of whether he would do it all again in exactly the same manner one for himself to uncover. At least, he thinks, there is now one choice he cannot make the mistake of wresting from another's grasp.]
I expected as much, coming from you.
[Back then, even as he had pleaded, he knew. Whilst skirting around doing the unconscionable thing and disregarding the Convocation's own directive, Emet-Selch had sought to appeal to his friend; to change his mind. But Hythlodaeus's answer would remained been the same irregardless. Selfless to the very end and so full of faith.]
In the end, we each followed the path we deemed necessary. Who can truly say what may have occurred had our choices erred? Whether the resulting world would have been better or worse for it, whether the day would have been won or lost, or if we might have ended up exactly as we are now. Our choices are our own, yet the course of our star is a complex weave.
At least we have arrived at a conclusion we can live with - such as it is. One in which you are yourselves and no one else, with a whole new procession of choices to make on your own behalves.
[It is a conclusion Themis had needed to make on his own. Had done so, during those last events of Pandaemonium, spurred on though he was by Athena's meddling. But he meant what he had said to their friend, their Hero - he was not burdened by regrets. How could he? When their goal had been realized. In a way that was not, perhaps, their original aim.
Hythlodaeus was correct. And so was Emet-Selch.]
Exactly, my dearest Emet-Selch. No matter the choices of others in differing realities, of experiences that blended the line between us and another, we are yet ourselves. Changed, yes. But change is not a thing to necessarily fear.
[He smiles, warm and bright. The air around him seems lighter, somehow, despite the sharing of burdens. As if a weight has lifted off. Arms pulling back, he takes his coffee with both hands and takes a long sip of the still-warm drink. The warmth that he feels within has nothing to do with the beverage he's drinking.
It's written all over his face. In his eyes.]
Thank you, both of you, for allowing me to be here and speak with you. To accept what I may give. It is all too tempting to withdraw and deal with one's troubles alone, to not burden others with the weight of what you have endured. A singular failing, I admit, that I myself am not immune to.
[A shrug is given at the admission. Themis has been better lately at it, but he will recognize his own faults.]
It is my hope that your troubles have been eased, if only by the smallest of fractions.
While I cannot speak for Emet-Selch, for myself they have indeed--and by more than a fraction at that.
[Not wholly, for some sense of unease will always remain until he grows used to that unfamiliar hue attached to his own, but it does not seem nearly so daunting now.
If Elidibus, he who was nearly swallowed by His and Their expectations can remain steadfast and even positive in a time like this, he himself cannot help but feel positive towards their futures as well.]
Though for all the thanks you give to us, I feel as though I should be the one extending them to you. As ever, you have proven yourself to be nothing short of an exemplary Emissary.
[And with the slightest twitch of the corners of his lips...]
Why, I would go so far as to say that Emet-Selch's brow may go uncreased for a full bell even after your departure.
There you go, giving him unrealistic expectations.
[Emet-Selch's eyes narrow in Hythlodaeus's direction before he takes another sip from his own mug, his attention returning to Themis once more.]
We all know that this brow of mine is not like to go uncreased for any duration in future, especially now when they've two extra appendages to hold aloft. Alas, my gratitude will have to suffice, as well as a reminder that I am here should either of your burdens begin to pile up again.
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And yet it is a welcome one, a steadying presence in the swirling seas of his mind. As he had done with the whole of them when they all were yet one. The blessing and the curse that only they two know.]
Dearest friend... And here I thought that might be Ericthonios.
[A little levity, a gift, and a hand on his shoulder to know that he is appreciated.]
I've heard my share from the man, though 'tis not wholly his words that have given me pause.
[He glances down at Elidibus--Themis--and then to Hades in the kitchen, and... hesitates. Hades knows his worries well, for they had spoken of them some time ago. But Themis... Would this serve only to bring up old wounds?
The waters should be tested first, he decides, and he turns his gaze back to Themis, ever gauging his reactions.]
I'm still attempting to grow used to all of this, I suppose. While I've never been one to shy away from new experiences, this talk of dragons and other worlds and other selves still comes a greater shock than I expected.
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[He interjects from the kitchen, though there's the barest hint of amusement in his cadence as he continues his work with far more measured motions than he employed earlier. A little extra levity, and perhaps silent acknowledgment that though he will not interrupt them unnecessarily, he's still paying keen attention.]
At least that's what he told me some time ago.
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Then he quirks a brow up, looking between the two of them.]
Though if we are to question the titles of 'dearest friend,' I must point out the glaring hypocrisy of maintaining it between the two of you as well as our own mutual friend of Azem. If, of course, we are to consider that an individual may only be possessed of one such friend - which is a belief I do not aspire to hold.
[He winks.]
If we are to be exact, Erichthonios would be my dearest fiancé amongst other things.
[While he does not sober, Themis's features settle in to an easy smile. This feels good. Feels right. But he did catch on to Hythlodaeus's testing of the waters.
Though not entirely sure of the exact nature of the man's thoughts he knows how to cast his net wide. He had far more time than the two of them to come to terms with the idea of choices made and not, of separate existences.]
I suspect that it would be shock indeed. It was partially due to the nature of my previous location - the one Byleth speaks of - that allowed me an easier time of it. Though I must admit living in a physical form and being free from emotional and mental manipulation is far preferable.
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A judgment only fitting of the esteemed Elidibus himself. I shall endeavor to be more specific in the future. My dearest, adventurous friend and my dearest, dourest friend, mayhap?
I will need some time for yourself, of course. My dearest, most engaged friend will only be fitting for so long.
[His smile comes easier, yet falters by the end of Themis's short explanation of his previous circumstances.]
...Aye, I imagine it would be.
['Tis little wonder he's adjusted to all this so much easier than Hythlodaeus has.]
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[He grumbles audibly, making sure the both of them can make out what he says next, even if it's a blatant misrepresentation of how he truly feels.]
The entire lot of you are utterly and unendingly incorrigible! If only I could determine which of you is more so and whom among you is the most tolerable thorn in my side.
[Dourest friend, indeed!]
[It's as Hythlodaeus falls quiet again that Emet-Selch returns, placing a freshly steaming mug upon the table nearest him and seating himself at another edge of the table between the two. This time he has also returned with a pot of the remaining coffee. Any cream or milk will simply have to be requested.]
Indeed. Despite the general unpleasantness of our draconic transformations, what we have remains our own. Now is the time to determine what role it is we wish to play within the grand scheme of things and to discover what we can - so that we are all prepared for whatever lies ahead.
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Then, he reaches his free hand out to rest it upon Hythlodaeus's arm. His fingers curl gently, to support and ground.]
I could perhaps be your dearest, shortest friend?
[He grins as he says it, taking the easy joke at his own expense for what it is. Slight pressure with his fingertips follow.]
Emet-Selch is correct in his statements. But it is important to recognize that none of us are alone in this. You are yourselves, none other, and you are not alone. Whatever it is you may need, I am here for you. I will be here for you. However you decide that support may be, whatever you need, I will see it through.
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You are not wrong. And I truly am blessed for your presence--for both your presence. And the presence of still more. Though...
[He summons a small carafe of cream and a bowl of sugar with the wave of his hand and sets about to pouring himself a cup of coffee.]
Emet-Selch is somewhat closer to the mark with my worries, I confess--mayhap because 'tis a subject we have already discussed. Or... "touched on," I suppose would be more accurate. Byleth's account was a shocking one, yes, but 'twas the man's reaction to it all that left more a mark.
[He finishes stirring in the sugar and sets the spoon to the side, then takes the cup in hand, clinging to it like a lifeline.]
"I don't know where I end and the other Byleth begins," the man said. A... familiar feeling for Themis and myself both, I imagine.
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[Something the two of them can relate to, hmn?]
[He frowns, feeling the hollow chill of an old, unrelenting ache that threatens to creep back into his heart despite the fortifying warmth of strong coffee and familiar company.]
This isn't solely about the dragons, is it? You refer to your time within Zodiark, or so I assume.
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Aye. Though given that this may be somewhat of a diversion to the topic at hand--and that I am an intruder to your conversation, purposefully or no--I would be more than understanding should you prefer to avoid such concerns. 'Tis hardly any trouble.
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[Emet-Selch sighs heavily.]
Besides, what is a conversation if not a series of diversions strung together and debated between friends?
Your concerns are just as valid as mine are, if not more so. And I will be the first to assure you that Themis here is not about to take his leave now that you have presented them. That's why he has let himself in, after all.
[He glances across the table at Themis. Clearly he's far more equipped to address Hythlodaeus's concerns than he is.]
Though if you would prefer that I grant the two of you some privacy...
[He doesn't intend to leave, but the offer is there if Hythlodaeus will feel more comfortable discussing such things in private with another who has experienced them. Rare is it for Hythlodaeus to admit that he is troubled, and Emet-Selch would prefer that he have the opportunity to air his concerns one way or another, even if he doesn't get to be a part of that process.]
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Warm coffee. Good friends. A home shared.
That cold time where he was both alone and made many is easier to stave off, now, when he is so close to those he loves. He knows that of which Hythlodaeus speaks all too well. Their situations and experiences were markedly different but ultimately came to the same conclusion.
The loss of the self.
When he speaks it's with a laugh in his voice and fondness in his eyes.]
You both are so alike, offering to leave so readily in order to spare the other. I, for one, would speak with you both here. It will bring no further harm to my psyche to speak on my experience with friends - my dreams do that well enough.
[Memories mixed with dreams. A foreign face where his should be in the mirror - but when he attempts to remember his own, it slips through his fingers. People whose identity catches in his throat, leaving him only with the idea that he loves them enough to keep going. One foot after the other, shedding himself piece by piece. For love.
He shakes his head and turns towards Hythlodaeus.]
The path I walked is no doubt different from your own, thrust to the fore as I was. My awareness was ceaseless in that I lacked any capacity to lose sight of what we had given of ourselves to achieve. But in that clarity, I was ever aware of each and every voice that had joined with mine, a choir made of the initial sacrifice as well as the subsequent joining. It was...
[He trails off, looking over now towards Emet-Selch.]
Overwhelming.
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He would have understood completely if Elidibus had preferred to leave such things behind, to open those wounds up another day, if ever again.
But still he speaks, and Hythlodaeus inclines his head as he listens, the edge of his cup hovering near his lips, the heat and scent grounding him to this world even as Elidibus's world brings him back to their own.]
...Indeed. Though nowhere near the extent that you must have felt, I... I too remember the edges of my "self" fraying. Wholly myself at one moment, and one amongst the mourning many the next. My hope, their grief, and a thousand, thousand wishes besides...
That you managed to cling to aught of yourself for any period of time after is nothing short of astounding.
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[Well, perhaps.]
[Emet-Selch meets that steady blue gaze, but for the moment, he says nothing. After all, his experiences, too, are markedly different. Where they had feared losing themselves, he instead had been left to watch as those around him began to wane, piece by piece chipping away until naught but duty remained.]
[His had been the burden of remembering. Family, friends, loved ones, names and faces all... as they began to slip from Lahabrea and Elidibus's grasp, Emet-Selch had taken the burden upon his own shoulders. His nightmare had been the heavy, ceaseless plod of time, the fear of failure, cracking beneath the weight of such precious cargo; losing them. Losing everything where those he held dear already had. And oh he had mourned each minute detail as it sifted through his fingers, his vision a final bastion for them all. He had held the hopes and the dreams, and the despairs of many, empowered by the fallen souls of their people.]
[Like them, he too had felt a pull urging him ever forward, bound by duty and cognizant of Zodiark's will. But not quite in the way they describe. This choir of which they speak he will never know as intimately as they do. To him, that song is synonymous with the voice of their Dark Lord.]
....
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[The intensity some had teased him for. That eagerness and sincerity in everything he did. The way he loved so thoroughly and deeply that he never knew what to do with himself, turbulent oceans beneath a placid surface. It had saved him, in the end.
His fingers press gently into Hythlodaeus's arm, a comfort for the both of them.]
Some part of me is glad that I may share in the experience with another. That we may draw strength and support from that which we both understand - though in the same breath I wish you be free of it.
[Never would he wish for his own comfort at the detriment to another. If he could take the memories and pain from his friend and suffer alone, he would do it in an instant. Better that he can't.
His free hand slides across the table towards Emet-Selch in a familiar motion, leaving it there. He sees you, Hades. He refuses to let you suffer in silence.]
But we remain. Our experiences have changed us, yes, but I believe that down to your core you remain yourself. Think back to the man you were when you stumbled upon me at the Capital, daydreaming about the events of Pandaemonium. The man you were whilst you adventured in Elpis. Would you, now, make any choices different to those he would have made?
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...Nay. I don't believe I would.
[He isn't wholly certain of that fact, but neither does he believe it possible to be certain.]
Regardless of what occurred, all that I did, I did in the belief that I might provide the path to a brighter future for those that I love. And while it may not have happened the way I intended, in the end, that did come to pass.
[A beautiful star brimming with possibility for those who came after.]
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[Well. Perhaps it is better that such a question was not posed of him. Unlike Hythlodaeus, his answer is not so charitable. He is the same man, yes, but in many ways he is forever changed. Oh, his convictions remain ever true, but the eons have afforded him much to ponder, much to weep over and regret, challenged his sense of morality and what is good and just and necessary in such a way that even he was surprised at the results. The Emet-Selch who had implored Hythlodaeus journey with him to Elpis in search of Hermes and the Emet-Selch who dutifully stood outside the counsel hall an hour early each and every morning could not have fathomed what had come to pass nor the many things he had wrought with his own hands. How can he say that his choices would be the very same with the knowledge he now wields?]
[But that is his own burden to bear. The question of whether he would do it all again in exactly the same manner one for himself to uncover. At least, he thinks, there is now one choice he cannot make the mistake of wresting from another's grasp.]
I expected as much, coming from you.
[Back then, even as he had pleaded, he knew. Whilst skirting around doing the unconscionable thing and disregarding the Convocation's own directive, Emet-Selch had sought to appeal to his friend; to change his mind. But Hythlodaeus's answer would remained been the same irregardless. Selfless to the very end and so full of faith.]
In the end, we each followed the path we deemed necessary. Who can truly say what may have occurred had our choices erred? Whether the resulting world would have been better or worse for it, whether the day would have been won or lost, or if we might have ended up exactly as we are now. Our choices are our own, yet the course of our star is a complex weave.
At least we have arrived at a conclusion we can live with - such as it is. One in which you are yourselves and no one else, with a whole new procession of choices to make on your own behalves.
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Hythlodaeus was correct. And so was Emet-Selch.]
Exactly, my dearest Emet-Selch. No matter the choices of others in differing realities, of experiences that blended the line between us and another, we are yet ourselves. Changed, yes. But change is not a thing to necessarily fear.
[He smiles, warm and bright. The air around him seems lighter, somehow, despite the sharing of burdens. As if a weight has lifted off. Arms pulling back, he takes his coffee with both hands and takes a long sip of the still-warm drink. The warmth that he feels within has nothing to do with the beverage he's drinking.
It's written all over his face. In his eyes.]
Thank you, both of you, for allowing me to be here and speak with you. To accept what I may give. It is all too tempting to withdraw and deal with one's troubles alone, to not burden others with the weight of what you have endured. A singular failing, I admit, that I myself am not immune to.
[A shrug is given at the admission. Themis has been better lately at it, but he will recognize his own faults.]
It is my hope that your troubles have been eased, if only by the smallest of fractions.
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[Not wholly, for some sense of unease will always remain until he grows used to that unfamiliar hue attached to his own, but it does not seem nearly so daunting now.
If Elidibus, he who was nearly swallowed by His and Their expectations can remain steadfast and even positive in a time like this, he himself cannot help but feel positive towards their futures as well.]
Though for all the thanks you give to us, I feel as though I should be the one extending them to you. As ever, you have proven yourself to be nothing short of an exemplary Emissary.
[And with the slightest twitch of the corners of his lips...]
Why, I would go so far as to say that Emet-Selch's brow may go uncreased for a full bell even after your departure.
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There you go, giving him unrealistic expectations.
[Emet-Selch's eyes narrow in Hythlodaeus's direction before he takes another sip from his own mug, his attention returning to Themis once more.]
We all know that this brow of mine is not like to go uncreased for any duration in future, especially now when they've two extra appendages to hold aloft. Alas, my gratitude will have to suffice, as well as a reminder that I am here should either of your burdens begin to pile up again.