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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...?"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

"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?"

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."

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.

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.

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