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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."

He can't help the giggle that escapes him.

"You know full well that I intend to leave." What, did Emet-Selch expect him to stay cooped up in this room? He thinks not.

"Come then, my circumspect guide. Where to first?" If he can't go back to Elpis, he may as well look around. Perhaps it will uncover another means of leaving- hesitant as Hythlodaeus is to leave his friend here. He steps to Emet-Selch's side, looking up at him impishly.

Know full well he did.

Emet lets out a very apparent sigh and he lets his shoulders sag as if to physically show how troublesome this all is. He came in here to rest and now he must play the role of a captive tour guide.

Even so, this is the first time in recent memory he would walk with someone who didn't show him some level of contempt. As 'bothersome' as it could be, he does seem to stand up straighter with his head more level. (Anticipation, perhaps.) Even he walks with a shade that has a rather convincing-looking soul, he would take a lie over the emptiness that being alone wrought.

"Perhaps you'll find their meager collection of books to your liking." He says flatly. "Or a rookery full of beasts. Maybe their paltry marketplace?"

"I should like to see the beasts here, I think." He wants to see what creations and concepts are roaming free here. Noting that Emet-Selch walks straighter, Hythlodaeus pats him cheerfully on the arm.

"Yes, less slouching. It doesn't suit you." He strides towards the doors, opening them. He's busy looking down the staircase when the guard at the entrance gapes at him- he doesn't recall letting Hythlodaeus in, so where did he come from? Hythlodaeus pays him no mind, instead waiting for his reluctant friend to follow.

"Impressive, but..." He squints at the people milling around the plaza below. Their souls... they're so dim.

Some noticeable effort goes into standing up straighter as he makes to follow to the area outside the tower. And, if one looks closely, it's likely evident that the corner of his mouth has tugged back just enough to be apparent.

The area outside is abuzz as usual with people going about their business. And, as always, the bright light from above shines down with such ferocity that it feels like there's some tangible weight to it.

That's not likely the subject of immediate attention, though. "You notice it, do you?" Emet asks quizzically. Of course, the Hythlodaeus he knew would notice.

Nodding, Hythlodaeus turns to face Emet again. "It's impossible not to." And though he was told of a sundering, he doesn't quite know when he's travelled to. Clearly, this is after that.

He studies his friend with a thoughtful expression. "How long has it been like this?" How long has the world been this way? He has noticed, as well, that he's the only one wearing a robe and mask. Now he stands out, and not in any kind of good way.

"For an age." He says wistfully. "Ever since the world was split, So too have the souls of those inhabiting it looked like feeble imitations of what they once were." Emet lifts a hand and motions to those in the square, "I pity them, I do." His words come out as almost a sigh.

For their feeble minds and short lives filled with frailty were nothing if not piteous.

"A handful managed to escape. We are the only ones who remember the way the world used to be when it was yet still whole."

Hythlodaeus looks back at the souls of the men and women in the square and wonders why they need to be pitied. It's true that as ancients they could effectively live forever barring unfortunate accidents, but those laughing with each other right now don't seem distressed by it.

"They seem to be doing just fine without pity." He frowns to himself. The Emet-Selch he knew was a truly benevolent man who cared for others, even if he made a show about grumbling over it when he helped out. Does the lack of a whole soul really make these people any less worth championing?

But of course, the warrior had said as much- and Emet-Selch had quite angrily contested his role in her story. This shouldn't be surprising to him, and yet it is.

"Oh yes, I suppose they've learned to carry on quite convincingly in their squalor." It's a blatant show of disregard for the happiness on display in front of him.

The same apathy is in his movements as he presses ahead toward the Rookery. His focus is on the path ahead and not on anything around them; he ignores the wonderful views, the happy people, and large crystals with a tired contempt.

"I don't recall ever meeting a familiar of Azem." He walks slow enough that it shouldn't be a problem to keep up with his pace while observing everything in the area. "I would remember someone defying time itself to talk to us of the Final Days. What familiar were you speaking of?"

Hythlodaeus follows along at Emet-Selch's side, looking around eagerly despite the other man's disinterest. Though at the question, he lets out a little "hm?" and looks up at the Ascian again.

"You don't recall? That's strange... it's a very important subject, after all." Well, he'll start from the beginning.

"You and I were in Elpis to meet with Hermes. We had scarcely been there for a few moments when we realised something was amiss, however. A soul, much like Azem's in hue, was by the door. You gave it some of your aether after I asked very nicely, and... it became a person." He eyes Emet to see if there's any kind of recognition in his eyes.

"Later, she told us the real reason she had come. Elidibus had sent her back in time to help her avert the coming Final Days, something we ourselves would soon face. She told us everything... and you, in your anger, rejected her tale and left in quite the huff. Something about taking offence to your portrayal as a megalomaniacal madman."

The words stir no flicker of recognition on his face. The memories are alien, the scenario strange, and he doesn't even blink at the thought of being called a 'madman' now. Not that he accepts the name, but the name has been thrown about too much in years past to give it any weight.

"The bearer of the title of 'Fandaniel' at the time had agreed to vacate his seat. We traveled to Elpis in order to meet with a potential successor." He says by way of confirming that part of the tale. "I've met no such familiar and I certainly took no part in these conversations."

"Oh, but you did." Which is the confusing part. Why wouldn't Emet-Selch remember? "Tell me, does the familiar not sound- well, familiar to you? She had obviously met you."

As they walk, he takes in the dim souls surrounding him again. Mostly, though, he just finds this all very impressive. He stops and turns to look at the large crystal tower behind them, and his mouth opens in a small "o". It's beautiful, and entirely unlike anything he's ever seen before.

Whatever this shade is, at least their groan-inducing jokes are convincing enough to be authentic. The wordplay earns a flat look of its own - as if to say: 'Oh, very funny'.

He stops at Hythlodaeus' side and follows his line of sight back to the view. A deep exhale escapes him - not out of annoyance but out of the luxury of being able to hear him talk again.

"There is one person similar to what you describe. They are not a familiar, but a would-be hero with a soul similar in color." Someone with the color of their soul comparable to Azem with just as much of a penchant for trouble. "They've no knowledge of the Final Days."

"A would-be hero with enough determination to travel back to the past if required?" He grins at Emet. "She reminds me of Azem, you know... not just in soul, but mannerisms. And Azem would find a way to travel through time, wouldn't she?"

He sighs, fond. "If I only knew how I had managed such a feat." He shakes his head.

"From what I gathered from her story, she hails from a time in the future. You and Elidibus had been defeated, after all." His smile fades a little at the idea. He doesn't like to think of his new friend pitted against his old friend. "In that time, the Final Days began its descent upon her world, too."

Defeated? Anger, sadness, and desperation bubble up inside him, and the look in his eyes betrays every single painful emotion. He couldn't fail after so long, not when the whole of the world as it used to be was depending on him.

Failure and disappointment are nothing new, but when the news of that potential failure is delivered by someone he thought of so dearly... When they, too, depended on his success.

"From last I saw her condition, she will not make it to the next sunrise, let alone The Final Days." Emet explains. The light had already begun to consume her. The transformation into a monster can only be thwarted for so long. "She may have some determination, but that pale imitation wants for the skill and ability that Azem possessed."

Hythlodaeus touches a hand to Emet's arm, unhappy that he had to be the one to deliver the news. "And yet with her, I feel anything is possible."

It seems Emet-Selch made the cardinal sin of underestimating his foe. And Hythlodaeus can't tell if he's happy that she lived, or if he's upset that Emet-Selch didn't. Perhaps both- but his expression is pained all the same.

"Ah... but it isn't my place to meddle in such affairs, hm? I am but a visitor here." He squeezes Emet-Selch's arm before dropping his hand again. Would that he could take Emet back to Elpis with him, back to where his home and friends were waiting for him. If only he could ease the turmoil in his friend's heart. He wonders if there's naught either side could do to reconcile their differences and come to an agreement.

"'Not my place'? Spare me your mummery, Hythlodaeus." It's an utterance half full of fatigue. He pauses by a staircase leading up to the rookery which is, mercifully, out of the overwhelming light.

Be it a shade or construction of his own design, Emet can't bring himself to dismiss his dear friend's words like that no matter how unfavorable they may be. His counsel always had value not because they were designed with pretty words. "Your opinion bears more weight to it than anyone on this star, or any other."

"More weight...?" Hythlodaeus seems almost surprised at that- pleased, in a sense, but he doesn't quite believe the words. His opinion isn't any more important than anyone else's. Still, he pauses before continuing.

"Then... I would simply say that I would very much like for both of you to live. I realise that isn't perhaps what you have in mind for her- your disdain is writ plain on your face for all to see. But I think you'd find her perhaps open to something more agreeable than a fight to the death." His smile returns, barely-concealed admiration and affection for his friend in his eyes.

"I know that you're still in there. The Emet-Selch I know. Why, I can see him now. And I'd like for nobody but him to recall our adventures together. His and mine."

He lowers his gaze, only briefly- when he looks back up again, that mischievous look is back. "That said, I hope you don't think I won't be waiting for your return to the star. If I must wait ten thousand more years, I will do so gladly."

Shade as this possibly may be, Emet lets himself indulge in a muted look of admiration. "How fortuitous for me. That will save me all the trouble of having to find you when the time comes."

With a brief pause having been enough, he heads up the stairs. The Rookery is non too far from where they are, just a little further and then back out into the sunlight.

"As for the present, I am right here as you can clearly see," See with his eyes and see with sight beyond sight, as he knows the capability well. "and I recall our adventures perfectly well." Except for the few details he's just been given, anyway.

Giggling a little at Emet-Selch's admiration, he follows him to the rookery with a wide smile.

"I can see all too well, aye. Quite a comforting hue in a place so foreign, I'll admit."

Seeing the amaro milling behind the fence, Hythlodaeus' eyes light up. "These are... I've never seen this concept before. What are they?"

One plods over to the fence and Hythlodaeus moves to pat it on the neck, marvelling over it. The presence of souls in the animals mark them as one with nature, no mere arcane entities.

"These are called Amaro." Though he approaches the enclosure, he doesn't make a move to pet the lumbering black creature. He observes it instead.

"They're beasts which are used to get from one place to the next, be it by land or by air." He holds a hand out to the gated area. "Some of them are even capable of speech. Who knows. Perhaps these might be yearning for some intriguing conversation?" Emet knows full well that these particular Amaro don't speak, but there is nothing wrong with larking around a little.

"Amaro. Fascinating. And you say this fellow might be inclined to speak? Truly?" He continues to pat the amaro and tries to think of a subject.

"Greetings, friend! I am Hythlodaeus. Do you have a name?" When the amaro just stares at him before snorting, Hythlodaeus shakes his head. "Ah, alas. No enlightening conversations will be happening today."

He's still smiling, though, as he gestures for Emet-Selch to join him. "Come, he seems to enjoy this."

A smile tugs at his mouth without completely manifesting. Those words about the Amaro had partially meant to tease but the sincerity by which Hythlodaeus believed him and tried to communicate with it is much too endearing to make light of.

Emet shrugs wide with both arms and sighs in defeat.

"If you insist..." He moves over to the railing and reaches over to pat the beast on the head. Carefully. "This doesn't mean I intend to do this with every beast you come across."

The amaro closes its eyes and leans into their touches. Hythlodaeus seems genuinely enamoured by the beast, but soon moves his hand away. "We could stand here all day petting him, but I fear we have other tasks to tend to. Eating, for example. I wish to sample the cuisine here."

That seems like a good idea up until he realises something. "Ah. I have nothing to offer for the services here." He peers up at Emet-Selch. "...I'd be in your debt?" Surely Emet can't expect him to starve.

That causes Emet to arch an eyebrow.

He lifts his hand from the Amaro and folds both arms over his chest. "The cuisine here is hardly worth being indebted to anyone for." The food is actually quite good, especially after a long day spent out in the heavy sunlight, but downplaying it in order to make this not seem like a big deal is the ultimate goal.

"But if you insist on giving me remittance, perhaps you can tell me more about this memory I do not recall."

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