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For Emet-Selch (tsunsundered)

[filikos]

He only slipped off for a moment. A moment to himself, just for five minutes- not that Hythlodaeus necessarily needs the time alone, being the social creature he is, but sometimes the urge beckons him. Having excused himself from present company, he finds himself in an area serene and quiet, away from the local wildlife and safe. Though he's passable with his bow, he would prefer not to have to use it.

The air seems to shimmer and dance in one peculiar spot, though. And, well, he's met one new friend through his whims today- perhaps this would be another, only this time he sees no soul attached, as such. It's more of a disturbance in the environment than something entirely new. He approaches anyway- and before he can even do much as cry out he's gone.

Where he's ended up, he can't rightfully say. It isn't Elpis, nor is it Amaurot. Nowhere he knows looks quite like this, at least. He's in a large crystalline room. Behind him is that disturbance again, but he backs away this time and looks around. Instinctively, he calls out for the people he knows, despite having no reason to believe they'd be here. "Emet-Selch? Hermes? Venat...?"

[lachtara]

As bothersome as it is, a brief excursion away from the perpetual sun proves necessary on occasion. The light outside is more taxing than he would care to admit. Thus, the interior of the Solar is a welcome respite for just such purpose - it's quiet, private, and not without its own mysteries to unravel to help pass the time.

Emet has procured a single book that lay been abandoned in the adjacent room. Then, he's taken a seat on one of the stairs in the solar - apparently they are averse to formal seating - while he reads. He holds the book in one hand and folds the other neatly while his eyes glance listlessly over the words. 

His attention is, regrettably, drawn away from the book as he hears...something. There's a voice that's so distantly familiar followed by those names he hasn't heard chained together in a sentence for so long that they couldn't possibly be real.

"Ugh..." Emet mutters in disgusted response, snapping the book shut so loud that it echoes in the empty solar. He raises his opposite hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Weary of body, and now weary of the mind it seems." That seems like the only reasonable explanation.

[filikos]

There's a voice from the corner of the room, and Hythlodaeus turns to see a familiar and comforting soul. Though the man it belongs to... well. To say he looks different is an understatement, and he slowly edges closer with a perplexed expression.

"What is this garb, my friend?" Amongst other things, but that stands out quite starkly given the culture surrounding the ancients and their clothing. Stopping before Emet-Selch, he lifts his hands in question. "Glad though I am to see you here, I must admit to being very confused."

The conversation Azem's 'familiar' had with them comes to the forefront of his mind. Time travel... a distant future after a great sundering. A man weighed upon heavily by his burdens- Hythlodaeus' best friend, warped and twisted by grief. Still, though this conversation is still fresh in his mind, he doesn't understand why he'd be here, now, of all times and places. Or how he'd have gotten here. There was no Elidibus to facilitate his arrival here. Was something altered by the future Warrior's arrival in Elpis?

He peers down at Emet-Selch to get a better look at him. Notes the dark circles, the creases on his brow, the dullness of his eyes. His heart aches, but he waits for a possible explanation. There must be one.

[lachtara]

Emet looks to the side and meets the gaze of the familiar black-robed figure that stands nearby.

His eyes grow wide and his lips part in sheer surprise. "Ah..." This is someone he's not seen in an age. Someone who has always been so precious to him. He can feel the faint warmth of contentment threaten to surface within, something he hasn't felt in so long it scarcely seems achievable these days.

The expression is forcibly expunged as he coaches his face back to apathetic neutrality.

"What manner of chicanery is this?" Emet spits out bitterly instead of any manner of greeting or answer to the question. Seeing them now in the midst of this broken world feels like he's been struck with some kind of physical blow. He hurriedly stands and takes a wary step backward.

Emet points at them with the book he carries. "Who are you? What are you?" He asks, knowing full well that their souls look the same. It has to be some kind of trickery. It's not real, however much he wishes it could be. And wishes are for those naive wide-eyed heroes, not him.

[filikos]

He's never seen quite that level of venom in Emet-Selch's expression before- at least not directed at him, anyway. He's both surprised and not at the same time, considering what he now knows about this future.

Holding his hands out reassuringly, Hythlodaeus doesn't take the outrage personally. He's stricken by grief, he realises. He's not himself.

"Pray calm yourself. It will avail nobody to carry on in such a manner." Lowering his hands, he gives Emet-Selch a sad gaze. Not pitying, but... genuinely hurt. Hurt because his friend is hurting. He might have made a jape here- why, I'm a dear friend of course!- but it feels wrong and Hythlodaeus has more tact than that.

"You and I both know I need no introduction, so let us try a different approach, hm? How can I prove to you that I'm the man you know me to be?" They can get into the how and why of his arrival here later. For now, Hythlodaeus really does not want to be on the receiving end of Emet-Selch's fury.

[lachtara]

His jaw tightens at every word and every gesture. It's been so long since he's heard that voice, the calming sound - sometimes playfully galling as it is, that the memories of such particulars have nearly faded to time.

Emet's eyes flicker with anger, but there is another part that wishes Hythlodaeus would keep talking. About anything. So he can continue to hear that voice just as he used to. It's so much more convincing and kind than any facsimile he had been able to conjure.

"First, tell me how you arrived here." He asks in a sharp and accusatory tone. "Don't dare leave out a single paltry detail."

[filikos]

"Very well- do you recall our friend whom we assumed was Azem's familiar? The woman with the pointed ears and white hair. She told us of the Final Days that would happen in her time, and had traveled back into the past to find a way to stop it. My current theory- absurd as it may be- is that her unprecedented arrival in Elpis caused a disturbance in time itself. As a direct result of this, I now appear to be trapped here; though as luck would have it, my dear friend the most benevolent Emet-Selch is here to assist me in making things right again."

He tries to smile. It falls short of its usual mirth. "Now could I trouble you with some questions of my own? Where we are, for example?"

[lachtara]

The angry expression slowly fades, making way for confusion in the form of a deeply arched brow. What in the world is he going on about? Time travel? A...familiar? And a description of the so-called champion of Eorzea? "Trouble indeed." He mutters with such articulation that the words emanate skepticism.

He starts a wide lap around the solar, waving a hand high into the air to indicate everything around them with a certain level of typical grandiosity. "At the height of their prosperity, the Allagan Empire constructed this tower of crystal, aptly named The Crystal Tower." Or Sycrus Tower as it were.

Emet's skeptical look returns as he glances back. "It's augmented with all manner of magic and technology, although I've yet to recall summoning the dead as one such ability in its possession."

[filikos]

The dead. Hythlodaeus knows what happens to him and the reminder is unpleasant. Sacrificed to Zodiark, a god brought forth to halt the end of days. It's not how he wanted to go. But if that's what he must do... for the sake of his friends, he'll do it.

"I assure you I'm quite hale and healthy." He starts to idly make for the wall of the room, touching it curiously. "Trapped though I now seem to be." He can't see any more disturbances in the aether.

When he looks back to Emet-Selch, his smile is soft and fond. "Full glad am I that it was you whom I happened to appear before. Fortuitous indeed. You'll show me around, won't you?" He can't leave and quite frankly would be loathe to leave his best friend in this state anyway. That leaves only one course of action: bother Emet-Selch until he agrees to be his guide.

[lachtara]

A smile pointed in his direction is enough to ease his stern look. Such glances had a similar effect back then, and it seems that still stands the test of time.

"Hardly. I am no tour guide." It's not a no, but not an eager acceptance of the request either.

He idly watches Hythlodaeus paw around the room instead, still trying to come to terms with the other presence in the room. Their souls are the same warm and welcoming presence he knew before. But how...? It can't be so easy as to have someone so important appear by accident.

"But if you decide to leave, I don't intend to let you wander the city of your own accord. Whatever you are, I mean to watch you. Closely."

What even is this, we don't know

[commensalist]

It's been easier to adjust to this land than the aurorian had expected, really. It still stings to be separated from his people, but it's hardly the first loss the young man has faced.

Moreover, there are a number of other reasons for him to move on. The amethyst hidden beneath his mask feels like it's singing a little with the ever-present feeling of connection, not unlike his connection with the insects of these lands - or so he thinks. The mask is an unnecessary precaution too, but as one might say, old habits die hard. That's neither here nor there, truthfully.

What is here and now is that he's meeting with a new acquaintance to train that connection. He has a name and some basic information, whatever he could find from the network and the surrounding natives who might have seen the other, but that's all. If it weren't so empty in the park, he'd be worried about finding the other. Once he's spotted the man in his softly pastel ensemble, the mercenary starts forward with easy strides.

"You must be Hythlodaeus." His words are soft and smooth, spoken remarkably gently. At an easy 5'10, he's a little shorter than the other, with a slim build that nonetheless speaks of quiet strength. That he's clad in his usual black and white ensemble doesn't hurt matters, creating a sort of contrast that both seems perfectly fitted to him and also makes him stand out.

it's fabulous, that's what

[filikos]

"And you must be Luke. A pleasure, truly." Hythlodaeus been trying to practice his magic on his own, but it's nothing like the magic he's used to. It's not aether that he uses to create with but Manna, and it works a little differently. On his shoulder, however, is a large yellow butterfly. He had to test his usual creation magic first, after all. That's something he's comfortable with, and he feels that he should start there. Butterflies don't take much aether to bring into creation back home, nor do they take much Manna here. It's ideal.

At 6'2 Hythlodaeus does stand taller, long and slender but with a hidden strength of his own- you need it to be able to wield a bow with any kind of success. He'd rather rely on magic, though. That's his forte, as the butterfly proves.

u rite, u rite

[commensalist]

"The pleasure is mine." Pleasantries are an easy thing, something well-remembered and quickly employed, but honestly... Luke's attention is pulled almost immediately to the butterfly on the man's shoulder. His fond expression ought to be familiar, close as Hythlodaeus was to Hermes and his creations. It's clear even through his half-mask, a faint sparkle to bright eyes. "Are you an insect person?" It's a departure from what they're here for, a small dip into probing for information. Mayhap it's nothing of import to the ancient, but it clearly has some value to the aurorian.

Which, given the fact that he's still existing mostly with his insect friends in their usual little capsules and kept as part of his outfit, might be plain enough to Hythlodaeus' eyes. In any case, he's quite content to spend some time conversing before devolving into work - one should put one's heart into training, after all, and thus converse prior.

[filikos]

An insect person? Hythlodaeus glances at the butterfly on his shoulder. "Ah- butterflies and other insects are some of the least taxing creations to be made. I'm unused to working within these boundaries, and so practice seemed to be in order."

But it's hard not to see the look in Luke's eyes, nor the insects in capsules on his outfit. "You seem fond of them, however." Which does remind him of Hermes, in a way. Surely Luke would be upset if Hythlodaeus reverted the butterfly to its previous state, the same way Hermes would be, so when the creature begins to fly off he lets it go. The Manna spent on it was of little import.

[commensalist]

"To be made?" It's a phrasing that doesn't go amiss, certainly. Luke's gaze glances between the butterfly and its... apparent maker, curiosity crossing his face. Creatures certainly had different abilities here, but what a truly intriguing one...

"Ah, yes. My insects and I are rather inseparable most of the time." His lips curl in faintly embarrassed amusement, head tilting slightly. "Though many seem much more afraid of them. Butterflies perhaps the least of all, so I normally don't get to free them to stretch when around others." Hythlodaeus is correct in more ways than he can imagine regarding the man's reaction to insects and, well, death itself, so it's really probably best when the butterfly flutters off. "That is a bit of a digression, I apologise." Certainly not what they're here for.

[filikos]

In answer, Hythlodaeus takes note of the shape and form of one of the other insects Luke possesses, and waves a hand- the creature forms in a display of soft sparkles, a large purple and red butterfly this time.

He thinks it's endearing that the man cares for the insects so, even if Hythlodaeus doesn't share the sentiment. To be such a kind and gentle soul towards such creatures surely speaks well of his character. "Here- a friend for your travels, if you would take it." The butterfly lands on Hythlodaeus' outstretched finger, and he offers it to Luke carefully.

"And now, before I spend all of my Manna... what we came here to do, yes." He giggles, obviously not minding in the least.

For Emet-Selch (snapping)

[filikos]

It's a sharp tugging sensation out of nowhere, like he's being yanked across the street by an unseen force. Hythlodaeus stumbles outside the bureau's doors, dropping the notes and the concept crystal he'd been holding- and when he looks up from his new position on the ground, everything is so much... bigger. When did the bureau doors loom so large above him? And when did the sky seem so dark and overcast?

Picking himself up and dusting himself off, more and more seems to be just plain wrong the longer he goes on looking. Who are these formless giants? He tries to tell them apart by soul, and to his horror he realises they have none.

He's still focusing on the aether before him when he spots a familiar, comforting aura nearby. Emet-Selch. He doesn't even have to think about it before he's hurrying over, but the man who stands before him with his arm raised mid-snap looks so different. The weight of worlds seems to drag his shoulders down, eyes dull and sunken, and Hythlodaeus approaches with a frown. "Emet-Selch- what's happening?"

[snapping]

It was completely unintentional, Emet-Selch would assure anyone. Sometimes Hythlodaeus crossed his mind when he was alone with his thoughts, and he swears he can still remember their moment of goodbye clearer than most other memories of their past. It haunts him. And perhaps some residual side effect of dynamis gone wrong has manifested this phantom into the man himself.

He certainly would not expect it was possible. Otherwise he would have tried a long, long time ago.

Thinking he'll head back to the surface and see what his enemies are up to, he'd turned to exit the lonely set he'd created for himself. But that voice catches him immediately, and when he turns, he too can see that soul clear as day, the hue unmistakable and unique and wholly his. Emet-Selch, no, Hades beneath him, feels his heart seize and grow heavy all at once, a thousand thousand years of longing making him feel both cautious and hopeless as he tries to keep his expression neutral.

Never could hide things from Hythlodaeus though, so the fears in his eyes surely must be apparent, dull as they are now.

"No. No. I won't be bothered by you, today. Go on, be on your way."

He speaks as though he believes Hythlodaeus is but a shade. It's really a feeble defense from the truth that they can both blatantly see.

[filikos]

The hurt in Emet-Selch's expression tugs at Hythlodaeus' heart. He steps forward, but there's obvious worry in his own eyes.

"Something has gone terribly awry, hasn't it?"

His voice is so uncharacteristically hushed and subdued- he looks around them again and it occurs to them that, somehow, they appear to be underwater. He touches a surprised hand to his own chest where his mask hangs, and in search of something- anything- familiar he focuses on Emet's aether again.

"Please, don't dismiss me. I must know what has happened here."

[snapping]

Emet-Selch hesitates. It's not often he's at an utter loss of what to do, but this seems to be one of those times. How weak he is to Hythlodaeus's requests. Even after a thousand thousand years, he finds himself losing his resolve. But after all, it's the least he can do for him, isn't it?

"You... You are real, aren't you." They both know the answer to this, again, but it is an answer he would have confirmed all the same.

And if the Ascian wasn't slouching forward before, he sure is now with the way his shoulders sag tiredly.

"I don't know why you're here. Or how."

[filikos]

"Of course I'm real." He reaches forward to rest a hand on Emet-Selch's shoulder. "As are you, despite... obvious differences."

He purses his lips. "Please don't sag so, friend. It is unbecoming." Certainly, it doesn't suit the proud man Hythlodaeus knows.

"What happened here? This isn't the Amaurot I was in but a few moments ago." Letting go of Emet's shoulder, he turns to peer down the street at the shades looming in the distance. They seem, he realises, to be the correct size for the world around them. It is he and Emet-Selch who appear to have grown smaller, of all things.

[snapping]

That touch could be fire for the way it seems to sear right through his clothing and into his flesh. Of course he doesn't draw away, but if his heart had anymore room to break, it surely would have.

It's been so long. Yet there he is, his greatest friend, real as could be, his soul radiant as ever. This has to be some kind of terrible, terrible joke. And why not? Emet-Selch has suffered about every other kind of emotional torture in a thousand thousand years.

"You're right. This is not our home. 'Tis but a pale comparison, but one must work with what they're given." At least talking about his handiwork is a nice distraction, especially when Hythlodaeus moves his hand and Emet-Selch isn't actually sure if he likes that. "This is not mine own body of course, and there are reasons enough for that. But it does beg the question as to why you appear that way as well. It makes me want to say this is all just a terrible dream all the more."

Better a bad dream than some reality he'll have to let go of eventually.

[filikos]

"A terrible dream? I'm wounded." Not quite understanding what has happened does leave room for some of Hythlodaeus' usual banter, but not much. Not when Emet-Selch looks so grave.

"I would have you explain in full, if you will. As for myself, I was taking some work back to the bureau when I felt a... pull? And suddenly, here I am. Surrounded by soulless beings, save for you."

Thinking, Hythlodaeus pauses before speaking again. "If my office remains, "twould perhaps be prudent to continue our conversation there." Resizing a few chairs shouldn't be too difficult. He turns his softly glowing eyes back to Emet-Selch, noting the dullness in his friend's own gaze. Not his body indeed... and yet he recognises him well enough. He sees the small differences, of course, but he also knows that this is, in fact, Hades.

[snapping]

"Unbearable." Emet-Selch is quick to retort, because hiding his pain with nonsense? His favorite way to cope. He shakes his head and turns, already beginning to walk in the direction of the false bureau he'd created.

"Come then. And pay the others no mind. They will think you nothing but an unruly child. Not terribly far from the truth." At least the unruly part.

He explains no more though. It's... a lot. And it'll take a little while. He still won't have answers as to why Hythlodaeus is here though, and that's perhaps more frustrating than anything else. He has come to understand his old friend does not even realize that Emet-Selch has not seen his face or heard his voice outside of his own memories for thousands of years. He has half a mind not to tell him, either. It would be better that way, surely.

[filikos]

"Is that how they view you, as well?" He catches up to Emet-Selch and walks beside him, smiling only slightly. For as much as he enjoys banter, this doesn't quite feel like the time.

At the bureau, Hythlodaeus lets out a "tsk" at the size of his desk and chair. "And how am I supposed to do my job like this, pray tell?" Not that he assumes he's going to be doing much in the way of work any time soon. From what he can glean from walking here, there is no work to be had. Everyone is... gone.

The knowledge does make him frown, but Hythlodaeus is nothing if not optimistic. So he focuses on his dear friend instead, gesturing to their surroundings. "If you would be so kind..."