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Emet stays leering at the opposite wall as if it somehow was the one solely responsible for the discomfort that he is currently feeling. Although the look does dim when Hythlodaeus reappears once more to offer the bath.

Emet puts both hands on his knees to help brace him while he stands. It's a slow and deliberate movement that he hopes does not betray too much of what he's feeling. More than a simple look already has, anyway.

"Will you be..." He yawns, "...joining me, Hythldaeus?" He asks.

"Oh? I could, certainly." He was just going to lie in bed while he waited, but joining Emet seems like much more fun. He heads back into the bathroom- surely his friend can walk the few feet to the bath on his own- and waits for Emet-Selch to ease into the bath before he climbs in himself. The tub is large, and Hythlodaeus leans back into it with a contented sigh.

"Mm... heavenly after a night of exertion, wouldn't you agree?" For as much space as they've been afforded, he still chooses to lean into Emet-Selch's side and link their fingers together. A relaxing soak is in order, he thinks.

"Mmm." Emet responds tiredly as he leans to one side and settles into the water. It's warm and comfortable, just what he needs at that moment to ease sore ligaments. Although sitting in such hot water with Hythlodaeus close by threatens to lull him to sleep again if he should so allow it.

Which would likely be a poor choice, so Emet busies himself in an effort to wake up.

He gives a dramatic wave of his hand and conjures a plethora of fluffy white bubbles that are dotted with the same yellow flowers that Hythlodaeus had thought of so fondly the previous day. A pleasant smell - along with the few odd bubbles - drifts through the air from the soap, distantly reminiscent of flowers. Emet has nothing if not a flair for the extravagant.

"I suppose it's pleasant enough." He mutters noncommittally, sighing, and sinking into the bubbles. "I have not partaken in such a thing for quite some time."

Hythlodaeus smiles at the bubbles- oh, very fancy. He casually lays an arm over Emet's shoulders, the other hand picking up a handful of bubbles. He focuses, and a luxurious purple flower springs forth from them, which he offers to Emet-Selch.

"You must take better care of yourself, my dear." Though his usual cheerful tone is present, there's a hint of concern there. "Not to worry. I will be here to make sure that you do, now."

Emet's eyes slide toward Hythlodaeus questioningly - 'my dear'? It's quite a change from the usual accolades he's given by his friend. There is, ultimately, no comment made to dissuade him from such a thing.

"I am quite capable of taking care of myself." He takes the flowers in hand, the threat of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he does so - and sets them on the ledge of the bath. For now. When was the last time anyone gave him flowers?

"As I have done so for many lifetimes now." Emet turns and conjures a soft sponge in his free hand, which he dunks in the water and makes for scrubbing it against Hythlodaeus' skin.

What can he say, he's free to call Emet any pet name he likes now. It always felt too obvious calling him as such in public, and alone it never felt like the right time. Bathing together after sex is not something they've done before though, and he's still feeling rather romantic.

"Yes, but- ah, what would Azem call it? Self care! Self care is important." Said as though Hythlodaeus hasn't forgotten to eat or sleep more than a few times in his life...

Chuckling as Emet starts lathering up his skin, he simply lets him. He can return the favour afterwards. "You cannot convince me that you've truly taken the time to relax in a while."

The sponge is left to float in the water as Emet begins to unravel Hythlodaeus' withered braid. There are so many wilted flower petals to carefully remove and he begins the task of carefully picking them out one at a time. The bouquet that he was just given will do as a replacement. After his hair is clean and dry.

"I partake in such things on occasion." Emet insists. "Such as..." He thinks but comes up with a momentary loss on what to use as an example. He would often forget to do simple things that didn't pertain to their goal - A wonder he had been able to manage so long, really. If he didn't stay busy then it became easy to think too much. Dwell on the grief. "...napping. I will nap when it seems appropriate. A lovely way to pass the time."

"Napping?" Hm, well, Hythlodaeus does like napping. Not to the extent that Emet does, but they can be very pleasant. Still!

"And what else?" He lets Emet-Selch pick the flowers from his hair, smiling softly at him. "Long baths? Good food? Time spent watching the stars?" His point is clear- they've done that stuff since Hythlodaeus got here but it doesn't seem like Emet-Selch has really tried to do it alone.

There's a long stretch of silence - enough of an answer as if he were to speak the words themselves. No, there's nothing like that. There's never been anything like that.

"I've partaken in conjuring 'illusions' before." Emet finally answers, in reference to the creation of Amaurot. He continues picking at the flowers, though his pace slows while he speaks of such things. "I would walk amongst to provide some much-needed amenity when things turned difficult."

Hythlodaeus' smile turns somewhat tight. "That isn't self care, my friend. That is torturing yourself."

He reaches out to turn Emet's face towards him though, pressing their foreheads together. "Oh, but it is so like you, isn't it? So sentimental..." Closing his eyes, he tips his head to offer up a kiss. When he pulls back, he seems quietly determined.

"We shall have no more need of illusions. I am here, now. Whole and real."

Sentimental. Others would hardly refer to him as such, although others hardly knew him as well.

Emet lets his hands rest in the water as he is fussed over, taking such affections as they are given.

"Are you suggesting I needs dispel them?" He asks. The city has been there so long, never changing. There were always those in line perpetually waiting for concepts to be approved and those in the streets who were engaged in the same conversations. It was always there whenever he should feel the need to walk its streets and reminisce.

"That is exactly what I am suggesting." He moves to lock eyes with Emet-Selch. "Will you truly need it anymore? Will our adventures not be enough for you? I know that you miss our home, as do I. But 'tis surely the time to look ahead, and not back."

Their home is gone, lost to time. But they are not. If they've been given this chance, they shouldn't squander it. Emet-Selch's current course will only get him killed, and for what? Elidibus can't remember his home the way Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus do. They need to be the ones to carry on the memory, even if they can't bring back all those who were sacrificed.

Their eyes meet, but he breaks their gaze after a moment to look elsewhere. Perhaps the place would not be needed as such, but it was still their home so many years ago. It's difficult to let it go on a whim.

"..." Emet resumes his work and runs his fingers through Hythlodaeus' hair as a makeshift comb. His answer is low and steeped in melancholy. "I am not sure that I will be able to watch it disappear again." He'd watched it disappear once. Even if this is an illusion that he'd conjured, watching it happen again would be unbearable.

Hythlodaeus supposes that would be hard, yes. But perhaps... the process would be cathartic, too? Like letting himself let go of the past.

"I won't force you," he presses another soft kiss to Emet-Selch's lips. "But I implore you to consider it, at the very least."

Hythlodaeus isn't sure he has the power to undo one of Emet-Selch's creations, alas. Emet is so much more powerful, Hythlodaeus would need to expend magical energy he just doesn't have in order to dispel the illusion. Not to mention, the whole staying alive under the ocean part.

With one chore done, Emet begins scrubbing soap into Hythlodaeus' hair. The kind he's conjured for this task smells - appropriately - of lavender. It's suds into a thick layer of white bubbles.

"I've not been there in some time." There had been so much work to be done later in order to prepare the First for rejoining. "I should like to see it again soon, anyroad."

Perhaps Hythlodaeus could see it first hand. He knew it isn't the same city as it once was, its facade that he's conjured is diminished in so many ways compared to the original, but perhaps seeing it would prove that it needed to stay as a lasting testament of the past.

"Mm. I will join you, then..." He closes his eyes at the scrubbing- it's obvious that if he could purr, he would be doing so. Especially when Emet's fingers rub into his scalp just so... he could fall asleep again like this.

"'Twould be remiss of me to let you out of my sight." He opens one eye lazily with a smile. Ah, if he lets Emet-Selch out of his sight he might run off to go rejoin worlds again. That's the opposite of what Hythlodaeus wants!

"Out of your sight?" He repeats as if the mere idea is amusing to him. "To think that I've become the one in need of such constant vigilance." Their previous disagreements make it obvious as to why but still an entertaining twist of fate to consider.

Emet takes a little extra care to be thorough before considering the scrub complete - It's very apparent that it is being enjoyed. He then lifts a hand and pulls on Hythlodaeus' shoulder as a nonverbal request for him to lean back so he could rinse off the suds.

He shifts to lean back into the water, his hair fanning out behind him as he does so. He hums as Emet-Selch rinses his hair out for him, and when he sits up again he tosses his soaked hair over his shoulder and squeezes it out a little.

"Your turn." He plucks the shampoo from where Emet had left it and lathers it up into his friend's hair, resisting the rather juvenile urge to shape his hair into a dollop on top of his head and contenting himself with the mental image instead.

"When would you like to visit?" He asks it as casually as if they're going on a day trip somewhere nice, but Emet likely knows him well enough to catch the hint of seriousness in his tone.

Emet closes his eyes as Hythlodeaus begins his work. Though not as apparent in his enjoyment, there is definitely a sense that he would rather it continue judging by the way he leans in.

Such warm water, the pleasant smell, the soothing sound of the water as it continually cycles into the bath all make for something so relaxing it's difficult not to doze off where he sits.

"We've no current destination," Emet admits finally, in lieu of suggesting they go there next.

"Amaurot it is, then." He stops scrubbing after a few moments and smiles. "Lean back if you would. Do try not to fall asleep."

He can't help the light teasing, and when Emet does lean back he gently rinses his hair for him with a fond smile. His thumb does brush over the Garlean eye finally, though. He's been wondering about it, but never deigned to ask before.

"What is this mark?"

There are no promises made on whether he falls asleep or not.

His eyes remain closed as he begins to explain the answer to that question. "It is known as a Garlean 'third eye'. They are unique to Native Garleans, who are a magickless people hailing from the far North. This body hails from that place, and for a time, went by the name Solus zos Galvus."

There's a long and storied history there, but it's best left to its succinct points for the moment.

"Many people of this continent do not look kindly upon those with this mark." Emet does not fully elaborate on the reasons. "It's best if I were to avoid large crowds of people of the Source if we are to move about unabated. Some places will not be so willing to look the other way."

"I see. A far cry from the respect afforded to you as Emet-Selch."

He helps Emet sit up again, brushing his wet hair back. "I may not be very helpful, but you know that I will always assist you where I can. To that end, I remind you that I will always have my bow on hand."

Not that Emet-Selch needs it. He could undo those people with a simple snap of his fingers- not that Hythlodaeus wants it to come to that, so the suggestion to avoid crowds is noted.

Leaning in, he gets a better look at the third eye. Then he chuckles, sitting straight again. "Ah, but you are still handsome."

Not that he didn't get a commanding amount of respect in the past, but in this case, it had been afforded exclusively to Garleans. Indeed, a far cry from his place in the Convocation as Emet-Selch.

Emet gives Hythlodaeus a look that could only be described as 'fondly annoyed'. Handsome? He swats a playful splash of water in Hythlodeaus' direction as if to say 'please'. Flattery would afford him no additional special privileges, especially when there is none to give.

He takes but a few more moments to scrub the rest of him, a brief run over his neck, chest, arms, elsewhere, and a splash of water to his face before calling himself clean. "I will dry myself and head above deck. Take as much time as you like." He announces before standing up to make for some towels.

The flowers he had been given are not forgotten and he takes them in hand on his way out. It's always so interesting to behold what kind of things Hythlodaeus decides to create.

"Heheh..." He smiles fondly at the splashing, though his gaze does sweep over Emet-Selch's form when he stands. How could it not? He's not even trying to hide it, either. Too bad his friend is likely too sore for any further activity for the time being...

He waves a hand lazily before standing, too. "I would not waste time idle in the water. We've done what we came here to do." Padding over to the towels, he wraps one around his waist before handing one off to Emet and then making his way back out to the bedroom. Their clothes are still lying on the floor from last night, and he stoops down to pick up both sets of them before lying Emet-Selch's on the bed so he doesn't have to bend with his sore muscles.

It's impossible not to notice the glance of hungry 'admiration' he's given from afar, but Emet lets it be, giving a quiet smile as his only recourse. It's filed away for later when he would want to pursue such a thing.

He dries and makes for his clothing, which has kindly been placed out of stooping range. Each article is slipped on one after the other, although each motion is taken with a degree of rigidness, he fairs rather well - The bath seems to have done what it needed to.

"I'll head above and weigh the anchor to ground the ship." Who knows how far they've drifted away from the coast since last night. "Then let us make for Amaurot."

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