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.
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."
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.
"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.
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.
"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.
"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.
"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..."
"They pay me little mind. I have nothing to learn from speaking to them." That cryptic reply aside, he keeps on walking toward the bureau or ... the ghost of the bureau in any case.
"If it is not clear to you yet, this is not truly Amaurot. There's no work to be done. And again, I've no idea why you came out so miniature." He could snap his fingers, make things their size, or make them their original sizes... but he decides not to for now. He simply walks over and stops a short way away from the fake receptionist's desk. His chest hurts, and he wants to take a nap rather than have to explain eons of history. But he sighs, knowing now that the longer he refrains from telling Hythlodaeus, the more he will have to suffer the jokes about this empty place when he's in no mood to laugh — or even scoff at them.
"I have a lot to tell you. It will likely make very little sense, but know that I speak the truth, as I always have." He sighs, preparing himself for the monologue he's never gotten to rehearse, let alone perform.
Well, Emet-Selch appears to not be in the mood for any kind of jokes, and Hythlodaeus can tell as much. He can read the room, so he keeps any further witty comments to himself.
"It's quite clear, aye." He stands by the entrance to his office after shutting the door behind them, wearing a suitably sober expression. He... hates to see Emet-Selch like this. This foreign, yet familiar face... the way he's walking like he carries the burden of a thousand lifetimes. Oh, if only Hythlodaeus knew how right he was.
"I am all ears, my friend." With his hand on his hip, head tilted just so to show he's listening, he waits.
If this is some kind of dream or a nightmare, he wants to wake up. He never expected to see Hythlodaeus again. And though he yearned for it, he had known for so long now that it would never come to be unless they finished the rejoining and had everything restored to normal.
This is so... why did this happen? Why is it like this?
But he clears his throat and gives a sigh before he finally straightens up a bit and begins to speak. "Since it seems you are alive, well, and completely unaware, I will have to start rather far back. So ... " And so he began to recount the days leading up to the Final Days, the summoning of Zodiark — that part was particularly difficult because of course, he'd said goodbye to Hythlodaeus once already and he's determined not to cry in front of him now of all things! — Venat's stupid decisions, the toil that he and the other two Unsundered had gone through for thousands of years.
Of course Emet-Selch doesn't give every little detail. You can't recall centuries with any brief amount of words. He mostly mentions what's important. He mentions that his role was in building empires much of the time, hence why he inhabits the Garlean form he does now. He mentions the Warrior of Light in scant detail, mentions that they're on the First shard, and that in what Elidibus would call weakness, he had created this Amaurot from the ruins of their beloved city. It was an empty, haunted place, but it was the most that existed of their people and their world that even remained aside from Emet-Selch and Elidibus themselves. He leaves no room for commentary. He simply wants to get this over with.
For his part, Hythlodaeus listens attentively and- for once- silently. His expression by the end of it could be described as uncharacteristically solemn, his brows upturned with concern.
"Oh... Hades." What can he say? His friend has been through so much. Lost so much. He approaches, though now realising what pain his presence causes Emet-Selch he isn't sure what to do once he reaches him. "Words fail me. I apologise sincerely."
He sighs, brushing a strand of hair from his face as he thinks. "I... understand if my presence brings you discomfort. Alas, unless you wish for me to leave these ruins and make my own way here, I'm unsure of how I would find my way back home."
Back to a disaster just waiting. His own days are numbered, but most importantly so are his friend's. "I should not be here." He muses on that, turning away from Emet-Selch and walking a short distance towards his desk. He can't quite figure out how he feels about that yet. He should be long dead. His dreams of returning to the star with his friends would never be realised. His heart aches, and now he suddenly can't bring himself to look Emet-Selch's way again. Did he do the right thing? His sacrifice didn't avert the Final Days, it didn't save his dearest friend from thousands of years of torment. If anything, it added to them.
Hades. How long has it been since he's heard his name like that? His actual name. Elidibus no doubt could not remember, had Lahabrea even, before his end? They could not even remember their own. And still, somehow, hearing it from Hythlodaeus is a different matter entirely. It seizes in Emet-Selch's chest and he feels as though he wants to cry out and to cherish it all at the same time.
"Don't." He speaks after a long silence. No, Hythlodaeus should not be here. How or why he is has no answer yet. But even having the other turn his back to him and begin to walk away feels like he's losing him all over again.
Elidibus is not here to chide him for being weak.
"Don't go. Not yet." Weak indeed. He wants to scowl at how dumb it sounds. But how he's missed this insufferable man before him. Missed him so much he accidentally made a shade of him sentient, accidentally summoned him from some rift in time ...! It will only hurt him more when they must actually say goodbye, but until it's figured out, he cannot bear to see Hythlodaeus turn away from him anymore.
He turns back, hearing the hurt in his friend's voice. He's only frowning a little, but his eyes are full of worry- for Emet-Selch, for his own future. Stepping forward once, he doesn't know how close he should get. It usually wouldn't be an issue, but with the fact that Hythlodaeus is reeling a little from the current situation and that Emet-Selch is clearly distressed by his presence...
"I find myself at a loss of what to do, then." He spreads his hands, shrugging very slightly. Does he go back home, where certain death awaits him? Does he stay here, where he shouldn't exist? If he goes home, what becomes of the Emet-Selch here who has to deal with him leaving again? If he stays, what happens to the Emet-Selch he's left behind? What a predicament...
"I would have your counsel, if you'd offer it." He steps forward again, looking uncharacteristically lost.
Emet-Selch wishes he couldn't see those feelings in Hythlodaeus's eyes. But they can read one another better than they can probably read themselves. That much hasn't changed. Neither, apparently, has the way Emet-Selch's blood burns in what he would insist is irritation the longer he stares at Hythlodaeus or thinks of their conundrum.
"You ..." He takes a deep breath, but to no avail as he still feels he might burst. "... absolute fool." Old habits apparently die very, very hard, because Emet-Selch's expression is a familiar one: exasperation, agitation, disbelief that he could be friends with such a disaster. "I just explained I have lived lifetimes without you on this pale comparison to our star, and you have the gall to act as though I would wash my hands of you?"
Granted, after receiving entire millennia of history in mere minutes, Emet-Selch would also just want to get right down to business. But it annoys him that Hythlodaeus is doing it to him in return! Playing coy when Emet-Selch has yearned to meet him in every single one of those lifetimes, since the moment they last said goodbye. The audacity. The nerve.
Hythlodaeus pauses for what feels like a lot longer than it really is. Then he smiles- it's sad, perhaps, but still a smile. He approaches properly this time, and before Emet-Selch can protest he pulls him into a tight hug.
"Mayhap I am a fool. Of course you wouldn't want me to leave." Though that doesn't help the Emet-Selch he's left behind back home...
Face buried in his friend's shoulder, he sighs. "I'm just a little bewildered, that's all. Pray forgive me?" He peers up at Emet-Selch, obviously still a little overwhelmed but trying to come to terms with it as quickly as possible.
Seeing that sadness in Hythlodaeus's otherwise dazzling smile makes Emet-Selch's heart hurt all the more. He's not going to say this of course, not with how he's already almost spooked his oldest friend away. Even if he is being pulled into those arms, he won't risk it.
He looks down at Hythlodaeus in return, eyebrows pinching together as he assesses the uncertainty in those vibrant eyes. Emet-Selch's fingers are curling into Hythlodaeus's robes before he can think clearly about it, holding him close to him. "I'm so sorry, Hythlodaeus. I never meant to put you in this kind of situation." Even though he could die happy now having reunited with him, subjecting him to news of their people's plight, and how long it's taken to make any progress in restoring their star and loved ones ... it's not something he's proud to do.
But however it happened, it's happened. And it's his fault, undoubtedly. So he will attempt to atone for the pain he's caused.
"I know that you would never... not intentionally."
His eyes close and he rests against Emet-Selch more comfortably. Like this, with just Emet-Selch's voice in his ear and the warmth of him holding him... he can almost pretend they're back home. Real home, that is.
"But let us not dwell on such a thing now." It seems to Hythlodaeus that what they both need right now is a distraction. "There must be something we can do instead."
He muses on that, but he... has no idea what this world really holds for them. Still, if there is aught they can do, he's sure Emet-Selch will know.
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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.
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"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."
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"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."
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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.
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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.
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"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.
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"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.
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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..."
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"If it is not clear to you yet, this is not truly Amaurot. There's no work to be done. And again, I've no idea why you came out so miniature." He could snap his fingers, make things their size, or make them their original sizes... but he decides not to for now. He simply walks over and stops a short way away from the fake receptionist's desk. His chest hurts, and he wants to take a nap rather than have to explain eons of history. But he sighs, knowing now that the longer he refrains from telling Hythlodaeus, the more he will have to suffer the jokes about this empty place when he's in no mood to laugh — or even scoff at them.
"I have a lot to tell you. It will likely make very little sense, but know that I speak the truth, as I always have." He sighs, preparing himself for the monologue he's never gotten to rehearse, let alone perform.
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"It's quite clear, aye." He stands by the entrance to his office after shutting the door behind them, wearing a suitably sober expression. He... hates to see Emet-Selch like this. This foreign, yet familiar face... the way he's walking like he carries the burden of a thousand lifetimes. Oh, if only Hythlodaeus knew how right he was.
"I am all ears, my friend." With his hand on his hip, head tilted just so to show he's listening, he waits.
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This is so... why did this happen? Why is it like this?
But he clears his throat and gives a sigh before he finally straightens up a bit and begins to speak. "Since it seems you are alive, well, and completely unaware, I will have to start rather far back. So ... " And so he began to recount the days leading up to the Final Days, the summoning of Zodiark — that part was particularly difficult because of course, he'd said goodbye to Hythlodaeus once already and he's determined not to cry in front of him now of all things! — Venat's stupid decisions, the toil that he and the other two Unsundered had gone through for thousands of years.
Of course Emet-Selch doesn't give every little detail. You can't recall centuries with any brief amount of words. He mostly mentions what's important. He mentions that his role was in building empires much of the time, hence why he inhabits the Garlean form he does now. He mentions the Warrior of Light in scant detail, mentions that they're on the First shard, and that in what Elidibus would call weakness, he had created this Amaurot from the ruins of their beloved city. It was an empty, haunted place, but it was the most that existed of their people and their world that even remained aside from Emet-Selch and Elidibus themselves. He leaves no room for commentary. He simply wants to get this over with.
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"Oh... Hades." What can he say? His friend has been through so much. Lost so much. He approaches, though now realising what pain his presence causes Emet-Selch he isn't sure what to do once he reaches him. "Words fail me. I apologise sincerely."
He sighs, brushing a strand of hair from his face as he thinks. "I... understand if my presence brings you discomfort. Alas, unless you wish for me to leave these ruins and make my own way here, I'm unsure of how I would find my way back home."
Back to a disaster just waiting. His own days are numbered, but most importantly so are his friend's. "I should not be here." He muses on that, turning away from Emet-Selch and walking a short distance towards his desk. He can't quite figure out how he feels about that yet. He should be long dead. His dreams of returning to the star with his friends would never be realised. His heart aches, and now he suddenly can't bring himself to look Emet-Selch's way again. Did he do the right thing? His sacrifice didn't avert the Final Days, it didn't save his dearest friend from thousands of years of torment. If anything, it added to them.
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"Don't." He speaks after a long silence. No, Hythlodaeus should not be here. How or why he is has no answer yet. But even having the other turn his back to him and begin to walk away feels like he's losing him all over again.
Elidibus is not here to chide him for being weak.
"Don't go. Not yet." Weak indeed. He wants to scowl at how dumb it sounds. But how he's missed this insufferable man before him. Missed him so much he accidentally made a shade of him sentient, accidentally summoned him from some rift in time ...! It will only hurt him more when they must actually say goodbye, but until it's figured out, he cannot bear to see Hythlodaeus turn away from him anymore.
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"I find myself at a loss of what to do, then." He spreads his hands, shrugging very slightly. Does he go back home, where certain death awaits him? Does he stay here, where he shouldn't exist? If he goes home, what becomes of the Emet-Selch here who has to deal with him leaving again? If he stays, what happens to the Emet-Selch he's left behind? What a predicament...
"I would have your counsel, if you'd offer it." He steps forward again, looking uncharacteristically lost.
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"You ..." He takes a deep breath, but to no avail as he still feels he might burst. "... absolute fool." Old habits apparently die very, very hard, because Emet-Selch's expression is a familiar one: exasperation, agitation, disbelief that he could be friends with such a disaster. "I just explained I have lived lifetimes without you on this pale comparison to our star, and you have the gall to act as though I would wash my hands of you?"
Granted, after receiving entire millennia of history in mere minutes, Emet-Selch would also just want to get right down to business. But it annoys him that Hythlodaeus is doing it to him in return! Playing coy when Emet-Selch has yearned to meet him in every single one of those lifetimes, since the moment they last said goodbye. The audacity. The nerve.
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"Mayhap I am a fool. Of course you wouldn't want me to leave." Though that doesn't help the Emet-Selch he's left behind back home...
Face buried in his friend's shoulder, he sighs. "I'm just a little bewildered, that's all. Pray forgive me?" He peers up at Emet-Selch, obviously still a little overwhelmed but trying to come to terms with it as quickly as possible.
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He looks down at Hythlodaeus in return, eyebrows pinching together as he assesses the uncertainty in those vibrant eyes. Emet-Selch's fingers are curling into Hythlodaeus's robes before he can think clearly about it, holding him close to him. "I'm so sorry, Hythlodaeus. I never meant to put you in this kind of situation." Even though he could die happy now having reunited with him, subjecting him to news of their people's plight, and how long it's taken to make any progress in restoring their star and loved ones ... it's not something he's proud to do.
But however it happened, it's happened. And it's his fault, undoubtedly. So he will attempt to atone for the pain he's caused.
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His eyes close and he rests against Emet-Selch more comfortably. Like this, with just Emet-Selch's voice in his ear and the warmth of him holding him... he can almost pretend they're back home. Real home, that is.
"But let us not dwell on such a thing now." It seems to Hythlodaeus that what they both need right now is a distraction. "There must be something we can do instead."
He muses on that, but he... has no idea what this world really holds for them. Still, if there is aught they can do, he's sure Emet-Selch will know.