arkitect | (noct) ic inbox

...wasting no time with the truly difficult ones, I see.

[That's exhaled on a sigh, with a little shake of his head. He admitted to being dead easily enough, to nearly finding his rest, but putting this into words...

When he answers, it's quieter.]

It has been several thousand years since our star was sundered. Thirteen, perhaps fourteen all told.

[Thousands of years since he last truly saw Hythlodaeus-- his true self, not his shade. It still almost doesn't seem like a reality.]

( Fourteen thousand.

Fourteen thousand years.

Hythlodaeus had some inkling that it had been a long time — Azem's shard had revealed at least that much that day in Elpis — but fourteen thousand? It takes a moment longer before the horror of it all truly sinks in to Hythlodaeus's breast: Emet-Selch tried for so long, strained for so long to put their world back together, with only an empty shadow of their home at the bottom of an ocean to go to for comfort.

Only a shade of himself to hold him when he needed to let go. )

That day in Elpis, Azem's shard told us something of that future. It seems you're yet to have your memories restored to you in full, but— we knew, if only for a moment. You refused it outright and left in a rage; I had to run after you, even—

( But then they'd had their memories wiped and Hythlodaeus had made the decision to give himself to Zodiark, unknowing of the solitude to which it would confine his dearest friend. )

I am sorry, Hades. That I wasn't there with you.

( Hades. The man he knew before the Convocation, before the Sundering.

The man he's finally found again. )

-no. No, you needn't be. You made your choice, and I would not begrudge you it.

[Despite everything, despite being left without him and Azem both-- it was a choice he respected then and still does, now. He doesn't remember telling them in Elpis that he would hold in high regard those who chose to sacrifice themselves, but it remains the truth, regardless; he missed Hythlodaeus dearly, but he cannot hold trying to help save their people against him.]

But what do you mean, we knew-- we knew what was to come, and still it was our only recourse?

( Hythlodaeus takes another sip of his coffee before shaking his head. )

Not ... exactly. The incident in Ktisis Hyperborea — you recall how we lost some time there, yes? It was those memories that were erased.

( He explains, careful not to implicate Hermes as the architect of it all just yet. The fact that Hermes himself has no momeory of what he did — that he's confused and hurting — is enough for Hythlodaeus to treat this revelation with caution. )

We learned what was going to happen, learned what would come of us—

( Of you, he doesn't say. )

And then it was taken away. We— you acted as best you could on the information you had at the time, not knowing that we'd seen the truth of it already.

...of course their shard was involved, somehow.

[They always are. He reaches up to rub at his face, frustrated.]

Then that incident-- we could have known. We could have kept any of it from ever coming to pass, and some... chance accident brought us to our ruin regardless.

( A silence falls between them that stretches too long to be natural. Emet-Selch seems to have take that little crumb of information as well as could be expected: no flying off the handle, no unplanned transformations, no crackling of ancient, arcane magicks at his fingertips.

Alright. )

... Not entirely.

( Fourteen thousand years. Hythlodaeus can't keep it from him — not when he's waited this long for his answers to questions he doesn't know to ask. )

Hermes's familiars, the Meteia ... he sent them on a mission to find what made life worth living. He was hurting, Emet-Selch, but none of us could see how much— and when their report returned that the best course of action would simply be to put all life out of its misery ...

( Hythlodaeus bows his head ever so slightly, his hair slipping forwards to veil part of his face. )

Something broke within him. He used Kairos to alter all our memories, including his own, and our challenge would be to prove that we could survive Meteion's ruin-song. To prove that we were worthy of life.

( Hythlodaeus looks up again, his smile a bleak, tired thing. He's spent so long affecting his easy, upbeat demeanor that he'd almost tricked himself into believing himself to be fine, but here, with Hades, Hythlodaeus is finally being made to feel the true weight of their past. )

He's here. ( Said simply. ) He doesn't know.

He did what?!

[There's equal disbelief and anger in his voice, once he finds it again after weighing the enormity of the information. Hermes-- the future Fandaniel, the one who identified the stagnation in the aetherial currents, who led them to their solution to avert the Final Days-- allowed it all to happen to begin with. Used the potential loss of everything they knew, of their lives, as a challenge.]

Whether he remembers or not-- if it was by his choice that we were prevented from stopping it, that such knowledge was taken from us, then he is still the person who chose to do so.

[Just as he won't deny that he is still the person who went to such great lengths to undo what Hermes allowed to happen.]

I know.

( Hythlodaeus says simply, setting his coffee down again. )

I know. I'm not— this isn't a defense of him or his actions, Emet-Selch. Just a warning that the man you may meet here is already broken, and that he has no idea what it will lead him to do.

( He shakes his head just the once. )

I feel—

( There's a pause, followed by a sigh. )

Well. I knew him, after all. I feel some responsibilty for the fact that I never noticed the pain as it festered within him.

You could not possibly have expected he would go so far, even if you had seen aught amiss. And why would anyone expect it of him? He was the very chief of Elpis. He had every reason to be satisfied with his work and position.

[It's still somewhat unthinkable, now, that he could have been so malcontent with their world that he was willing to see it break.]

Perhaps not. That doesn't mean I couldn't have been a better friend.

( Hythlodaeus replies, evidently unmoving in feeling as though he could have done more for Hermes. Perhaps, he thinks, that's why he wants to find him and talk to him — to tell him what happened, to hear more of his thoughts, and to try and understand what it was that opened that void within him.

He can't forgive him, but at the very least he can try to see him. )

... What will you do?

( Wanting to mete out some kind of punishment would be understandable, he supposes, but that doesn't sound much like the Hades he once knew. )

A better-- his actions killed you, and you're concerned with whether you were a good enough friend of his?

[A harsh interpretation, maybe, but-]

And do not try to soften it now. I know very well it was your choice, but that choice would not have had to be made had he not kept us from stopping it all in the first place.

[As for what he'll do, though... he says nothing of it yet. He's still working through it, still thinking of the shard Fandaniel he knew more recently. He'd thought Hermes' shard ended up quite different from the original soul, but-

Mayhap not.]

Yes.

( He says simply, closing his eyes for a long moment before turning to Emet-Selch again. )

My death was part of my past— part of a world that no longer exists, and a life that is no longer mine.

( His breath catches in the back of his throat, and for a moment the raw emotion of finally saying the words aloud threatens to overwhelm him. )

I don't forgive him. I can't. But to hold on to that pain would destroy me, and now that my soul has found yours again— Stars, I want to live. I want a future. I need to take responsibility for what I did wrong, that I might never allow such a thing to happen to us again.

( A smile touches the corners of his lips, soft and sad. )

I need to do this.

Edited 2022-09-16 18:37 (UTC)

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