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TEXT ✦ AUDIO ✦ VIDEO ✦ ACTION
Emet-Selch ✦ FFXIV
RESIDENCE ✦ tbd
GEMBOND ✦ Emerald
(placeholder text while I set things up ooc) INFO ✦ PERMISSIONS ✦ KINKLIST ✦
RESIDENCE ✦ tbd
GEMBOND ✦ Emerald
(placeholder text while I set things up ooc) INFO ✦ PERMISSIONS ✦ KINKLIST ✦
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They aren't friends. He insists upon it. Her disappearance was an annoyance more than anything, an unwelcome reminder such things could happen here, and he most certainly didn't find himself lacking for her conversational company. She's tolerable at best, which is more than he'd say for most--
Which, of course, is all there is to it. She is the most tolerable of the shards, and it is an annoyance that this place seemingly decided to spirit her elsewhere, of all possible souls.
When he feels the tug of a familiar summoning, though, he traces the magic back to its source; he fixes his soulsight upon the aether he finds there, and nearly drops the book he's reading in surprise. He should have noticed this already. (But if he had, then he would have been looking more than once every couple of days, and that simply couldn't stand.)
The rush of aether is unmistakable, given how much of it composes him. For another mage, his appearance couldn't possibly be missed-- he's standing there in a comfortable black velvet houserobe when she opens her eyes, arms folded as he glowers down at her.]
So you've seen fit to return after all. Just what did you think you were doing?
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Causing trouble for you, what else?
[Twelve above, how many times had he told her to behave herself while in Elpis? If she'd taken even a half-drink for every one, she'd be deeper in her cups than Thancred on one of his most profound nights of reveling.
She wonders what it is she'd just dragged him from. Some sort of leisure, if his attire is any indication. Well, so much the better. It's good to know he does, in fact, spare a moment for himself every once in a while, these days.]
How did you know I was gone? The fact that you were finally afforded some peace and quiet?
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[He grumbles that out as he snaps his fingers and creates himself a chair, which he promptly slumps into, leaning back with one leg crossed over the other. The robe evidently comes with slippers.]
Honestly, of all the nerve-- you wish to observe creation, then disappear just before I have cause to use it on a larger scale.
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[U G H. It's not as though she makes a particularly huffy or intimidating sight, propped up on pillows and bundled up beneath blankets, but she folds her arms across her waist and sulks at him anyway, mostly just for the sake of form before going on.
She actually had a point to this, of course. But then he goes and baits her with the tantalizing prospect of creation magic, and, well.]
You didn't. Without me?! That's not fair!
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Of course I did-- what, was I meant to let it sit for an indefinite amount of time? There was no telling whether you would return at all.
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[Nearly a moon for the ones who stayed here, at least. Much longer for her. Thinking back on it all saps some of her natural desire to bicker with him, though, for all that it's tempting to accuse him of specifically waiting for her to be gone, just to spite her with his creation work in her absence.
Reflexively, her gaze drifts to the Elpis bloom at the bedside, still glowing, before returning back down to where her arms are crossed atop the comforter. He's had his chance to bait her; now it's her turn.]
It wasn't Grani, was it?
[Likely it wasn't, but it's not as though the point of the question is really to find out what he did create, after all.]
I'd be sad to have missed him.
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[He'd never, to his recollection, summoned up Grani around Azem's shard. There had been no reason to-- and perhaps there was, for the version of himself that she knows, but he doubts his other self would have called upon that particular creation either.
It's been a long time, since he has.]
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[...]
Well, all right, no, I suppose it's full fair to think I might've, but — I didn't, not this time. I wanted the chance to talk to you. Some of the things I saw while I was gone...concern you. And I brought a message back with me that I feel bound to deliver.
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[He says, dry, but it's just to avoid responding to the rest for a moment.
After a brief silence, though, he exhales a tired sigh.]
They concern me despite my death, you say? Hythlodaeus has informed me that I am... lacking in memories which involve the shard of Azem we both know, but I am only aware of the broader strokes.
[-and surely that's all that it could be. He's a dead man, after all, and that crystal was meant as a failsafe, not for extended use; if he were to be pulled back, he expects it to be to help handle Elidibus and little more.]
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[Her fingers twist in the bedding.]
Would you want to know your own future, if a condition of knowing it was that you wouldn't be able to change anything about it?
[Would you drag it out of the person who knew, she thinks idly, like you always seem to when there's a secret at hand and you don't yet know what it is?]
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[He delivers it evenly, level, with only a slightly arched brow, but-- a measure of the impact is meant to be in the lack of emotion and volume. A straighter shot, perhaps, than he usually makes, but he feels it's merited; he lets it sit, a moment, before continuing.]
But you told us of it once regardless, did you not.
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I did. I gather that's the part that Hythlodaeus told you.
[She draws a slow breath.]
But that's not what I meant. Because it wasn't you I told, was it? It was the Emet-Selch of my own star. And I'm not the Azem shard that Hythlodaeus remembers.
[She glances up, then, and meets his eyes with a gaze as steady as his tone.]
I'm asking you. Would you want to know. Would you want me to tell you a story about the Emet-Selch I remember, for whatever that might or might not mean for you?
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[He'll allow that much. It isn't him, but in a way it is-- they didn't know each other before this place, but she knows Emet-Selch, and what she knows of him still informs the way she sees this iteration.]
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[But it still comes as a sudden relief — a rush of breath that leaves her so fast she almost didn't realize she was holding it, shoulders falling and tension dissipating as she nods slowly in approval.]
It wasn't for nothing. Everything he did. Everything he endured. The legacy he left. It wasn't all for nothing.
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[He folds his arms, there, watching her expectantly.]
Go on, then. Clearly you've more to say than that.
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[Would anyone, she wonders? Tis an easy enough mistake, after all, to forget that the slightly different circumstances they all hail from mean slightly different stars and shards, and the man who sits at her bedside in his velvet robe isn't from any of the ones that any of them know. Easy enough to forget and assume that he's any of theirs. But his Azem is nowhere to be found, and may never have the chance to deliver a message like this themselves.]
The Hythlodaeus of my star told me that before the world was sundered, you sometimes used to travel with Azem. That at times they would call for you, and you would answer and help. I think they must have done it when they didn't know what else to do, but they knew that you would.
[Her fingers twist again in the blankets.]
The Emet-Selch of my star didn't take his rest with his death. He waited awhile — or was kept back, mayhap. Because when a little shard of Azem found herself confronted with the very cause of the Final Days, alone and helpless with no path left to tread, she called for his aid. And he answered, one last time.
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[He heaves out a sigh, at that, but-- well, all right. Emet-Selch knows well enough that, given the way things ended... there's a good chance he would watch. Observe, especially after regaining his lost memories.]
...Hythlodaeus would be the most likely one to say so, but I've never asked him for more details past what he told me of Hermes. We've had more to discuss than my posthumous actions.
[Which is fine, they're fine, everything is normal. Anyway.]
But it is curious to me, regardless, that you should attempt to call me to your aid when you ought to have others to whom you could reach.
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[Truthfully, she'd half-thought he might just up and portal out after being made the recipient of a remark like that, so it's — optimistic, really, that for all his huffing, he seems to be tolerating the thread of conversation well.]
I wish I could say it was all part of some terribly cunning plan of mine, getting you and Hythlodaeus involved, but I'm afraid I'm just not that clever. I didn't know what else to do, and I thought —
[She stops short, glancing away. Even has the decency to look embarrassed — or possibly a touch mortified — before clearing her throat and moving right along.]
You might be glad to know you were rather spectacular about it. A performance to the last.
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[Clearly, getting his help is the smart option?
But he waves it off, returning to the topic at hand.]
What else could I have been? If it was to be my final appearance, then it ought to at least be memorable.
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[TWO CAN PLAY AT THAT GAME, EMET-SELCH.]
...It was, though. Memorable. And in more ways than one.
[And now she ducks her head, hiding the faintest of smiles.]
You had aether enough to recreate the whole of Amaurot on the First, and have it last even beyond when you were gone. You — he — did something like that again. Built a landscape out of aether for me.
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[He says, dry. Go ahead, be offended, no skin off his nose.]
But if you were faced with the very cause of the Final Days, then you shall have to explain just what manner of landscape this was, not to mention what purpose it served.
[Surely it would have been simple enough to call upon his magical might in a more-- direct way.]
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[She hums under her breath, glad for the time spent with Nidhana — an education in aetherology that makes offering this explanation that much easier in retrospect.]
The purpose of summoning Zodiark was to shield the star in a massive surfeit of aether — creation magic at its height. You and the Convocation arrived at that conclusion because you were able to work out that the seeds of the Final Days seemed to be planted in places where the aether surrounding the star was thinnest. And you were right. Far at the end of the universe, a monster was singing a song of ruin and despair across the sea of stars, and it was only that shield of aether that was keeping it out.
[She closes her eyes.]
You asked why I didn't have anyone else to call on. The answer is...because when we went to confront her at the edge of the universe, the only way to advance toward where she was hiding was through sacrifice. One by one, they all...my friends, they all...
[Even now, it aches to think of. And she remembers, idly, something he'd said in the capitol building at Amaurot — would half of the Sundered willingly give their lives to save the other half, the way the Unsundered did without hesitation?
One after another after another. They both know what it's like to be the last one standing, now, don't they.]
With each one in turn, they were able to change the landscape. Add to it. Build something out of it. And I had to let them, because to call them back to my side would mean to undo everything they'd built, and we would all perish anyway.
You, on your own, surpassed all of them. You used your aether to sustain all the changes yourself, so that they weren't relying on my friends anymore. You made it so that I could call them back.
no subject
An answer built upon sacrifice, as was yours.
[It may not have happened over millenia, but... now, he supposes, she has some idea of what it would be like to lose everyone, one by one. To not only lose them in an instant to sacrifice but to watch it happen progressively, much as he watched the other Unsundered lose themselves.]
And in what manner were they anchored?
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[How strange an admission that is. Once she never could've imagined herself making such a concession, but she'd be lying to the both of them if she tried to deny it.]
Even bound on the moon, it was Zodiark's presence that continued to shield the star. Fandaniel's plan was to eliminate him, by some means or another, so that the last barrier would be removed, and the Final Days could be ushered in again.
[And she wonders, for a fleeting moment, about Hythlodaeus — clever, manipulative Hythlodaeus, confident in his ability to make his old friend do anything with just the right combination of words and gestures — and whether, before he went to offer himself for the summoning, he'd said something to ensure he'd get his way even in the face of Emet-Selch's potential reluctance.
She wonders if it was something like I want you to make me a promise.
Funny, how that thought leads so naturally to the answer to his question.]
With hope — creation magicks shaped by hope. My design, your power...and Hythlodaeus's approval, I suppose.
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[He should have suspected. Should have paid more attention-- but he was a mere sundered Ascian, risen from Amon's husk. Emet-Selch couldn't have anticipated the tempering would fail to stop him, that he would ever contemplate having Zodiark eliminated.
After a moment, though, suddenly:]
-Now wait just a moment. Are you truly telling me that, in His absence, you traveled to the end of the very universe to find the source of the apocalypse and face it down with some embodiment of hope? That was what you called upon me for?
[He reaches up to rub at his temples, shaking his head and muttering-]
...You are every bit as ridiculous as they were.
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