isleofavalon | January catch-all (open)

Entry tags:

January catch-all (open)

WHO: Emet-Selch and whoever
WHAT: Questing and getting up to (hopefully minimal) trouble
WHEN: January
WHERE: Camelot area
WARNINGS: Implied body horror for first prompt. There may be mild spoilers so let me know if that's something you want to avoid.

1. Bridge to the Other Side (Knight quest)

If he were in possession of his true magicks, Emet-Selch thinks sourly to himself as he gazes up at the bridge trolls surrounding him, then these beasts would be vanquished without a second thought.

The one in front of him leers and jabs a blunt finger in his face. "Hand over yer valuables if ye know what's good fer ye, little man."

He's sure that the brutes would be more intimidating to someone of shorter stature. Frankly, they would be intimidating to most anyone possessed of weaker wills. Emet-Selch, however, is not intimidated.

"I'm afraid I really must get by," he says evenly. "Don't you have better things to do with your time? Say, slavering over whatever it is you things eat?"

This produces a raucous round of grunts and laughter. Sighing, the Ascian unbelts his grimoire and flips through the pages to a new alchemy circle he has drawn for this precise situation. Actually, while he's at it...

"To me," he says quietly. His familiar materialises out of a swirl of shadows with a growl. At his silent command, it starts to glow and ripple violet. Emet-Selch's eyes glow bright gold and an arcane wind whips up around them, forcing the less self-assured trolls to back up a step and look on fearfully. A strangled gasp. He doubles over, convulsing - the gwiber joins itself to him, body and all, granting him part of its form and its power.

He is still a man, but he is also a dragon. His eyes gleam bright violet with gold edging, wings tear their way out of the back of his vest and shirt, flashes of dark indigo scaling harden across swathes of skin, and his hands and feet grow into thick, lethal claws. Most importantly, however, power thrums through him. Not nearly the same as what he ought to possess, but enough.

"Shall we see what I can make of your blood and bone?" he says, before bursting out into a guttural laugh. He holds the grimoire out before him, readying his spell for whoever attacks him first.

2. Shadlin Shakers (Knight quest)

It's quiet in the woods. Too quiet. During the day they had been unremarkable, and someone with less care for their work may have been content to leave it at that and leave before dark fell. However Emet-Selch, for all his laziness, believes in doing a job properly. He comes to the woods in the late afternoon and stays until night darkens the land. There are many creatures who won't show themselves except under cover of darkness. It is these creatures he wishes to see - if aught exist.

Fortunately for him, they seem to indeed. He can see and feel their eyes staring at him from out of the shadows. They aren't too unnerving at first, but the deeper he heads into the woods, the more their gazes bother him. He has grown used to making himself the centre of attention (for the greater good of his people) but he always had moments of reprieve. Private moments to himself and spaces to retreat to when it grew too much. Ultimately, the silent blinking eyes of the Dusklight Woods grows unbearable and he finds himself pivoting about, shouting.

"Are you quite done staring?!"

3. Reflections in Crystal (Mirror, Mirror TDM prompt)

Another cave. Emet-Selch strides in without a second thought, wishing people would stop hiding precious commodities in these dank sorts of places. Things would be so much easier if they had their necessary materials somewhere easily accessible.

Just as he's thinking this, an image begins to form before him. He halts, frowning suspiciously as the image wavers, clears, and materialises upon the ground. Not just one but many scattered all about the floor of the cave. Bodies. Cloaked in the dark robes of his people but he knows by their heights that they aren't his people.

"What trickery is this?" he mutters, walking over to one and nudging it over with his foot. It rolls over, white, nondescript mask falling from their face to reveal a lifeless Felih.

He reels to his feet. Checking the others reveals more familiar faces: those of the people he has grudgingly allowed himself to care about. Irhya, Jophrey, the matriarch, and more from long, long ago in his past. And past them all...someone standing before an altar to Zodiark, dressed in Ascian robes with a jagged staff of violet crystal in one hand, made again in the image of his god. He knows who it is before they turn around.

Is that how he looked like before? Cold, lifeless eyes behind a red mask sweeping detachedly across the dead. His illusory self fixes its gaze upon him last.

"Necessary sacrifices to bring back our star," the other him says. "Mere fragments, unworthy of your time."

There's another figure lying on the altar behind them. He steps around and feels his stomach drop. The name slips from his lips before he can stop himself.

"Hythlodaeus..."

Lying bloodied and mangled, as he remembers seeing them in the aftermath of the Final Days. But it's clear Hythlodaeus is not part of the other sacrifices littering the cave floor. No, those sacrifices are for him. His people. To bring them back to life.

He backs away feeling numb. This is the cost, writ plain as day. He has succeeded in ignoring it for so long but the toll is laid out for him to see. Everywhere he turns, another body. Closer to the walls, they pile so high as to nearly reach the ceiling. If he were to approach and turn over each one, he's sure he would recognise every face.

The other him lays an ethereal hand on his shoulder and leans in, whispering. "Why do you hesitate? Are you afraid? Then allow me to dispel your doubts..."

It raises its staff and the staff begins to glow. Emet-Selch doesn't seem to notice, rooted in place as he is and staring at the countless bodies stretching before him.

4. Wildcard

If you have other ideas for a thread using prompts either from the questboard or the TDM, send me a PM.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

His mate is terrified, and now that he's begun to see the same visions, he understands why. There are bodies littered everywhere, there's a shade of Emet himself approaching them, a face he doesn't recognize but an aether he does, and his mind is racing a malm a minute in an attempt to parse what's happening.

The darkness that had nearly struck them, before Hades pulled him out of its path.

Felih feels helpless. He has no magic here, the cave's magic stifling him, a heavy weight weighing down on him as he tries to protectively put himself between Hades and his shade. Even with Hades gripping him so painfully tightly, he puts himself there, tail bristling as he stands his ground.

This feels too real, far too real.

"You're not him anymore," is what he says to his mate, as he stares the phantom down, never once removing his gaze, watching it like a hawk. "You have a choice, now, darling. Only you can make it. Not me, not him- only you."

He hasn't felt this afraid since he first saw the stars rain fire upon Amaurot. Choice...? What sort of bad jest is this choice?! His gaze wanders over the lifeless, cloaked figures and sees only the bodies of everyone he failed to save. His people. His loved ones.

"Do you think you matter to him?" the phantom says softly, not even bothering to acknowledge Felih with a look. As if they were beneath him. Its eyes remain fixed on the real Emet-Selch. "You are a mere shard of a friend I once knew. A pale reflection. Do I love you because of who you are or who you were?"

Emet feels himself grow cold. He cannot bring himself to look at Felih for the words strike a chord within him that he cannot deny.

Felih's known.

He's always known, but hearing it just breaks his heart all the more painfully. His ears pin back and he swallows hard, still stubbornly standing his ground despite it, back to his mate as he stares down the shade. He blinks back the tears and his tail bristles.

"A pale reflection, huh? I could say the same of you. Mind and heart clouded and controlled by someone else, twisted until you're hardly recognizable as the man you once were... a simple puppet for another being to use for its own ends. You can't see or judge anything until you've unclouded your eyes. Are you going to keep running away from that truth?"

"You don't...understand."

These ragged words from the real Emet-Selch. He looks haggard, haunted by more than the phantom before them. He looks as though there's no more life in him. His grip slowly grows slack before falling away.

"I fought long and hard for our star, and this is all I have to show for it," he says heavily. "A mountain of corpses reaching unto the firmament. You cannot ask me to bear this weight. How can anyone...?"

He slumps against a pillar and buries his face in his hands, shaking. "Zodiark was to be our salvation! Until She tore Him apart...!"

Not just Zodiark but their star, their people. Try as he might, nothing can ever quench the resentment he feels towards their self-proclaimed 'Mother'.

"Even had She not come, you know it would end in nothing but death. Primals need aether for their sustained existence, and Zodiark is no different- how long could your people go on, sacrificing to him, until there was nothing left? Tempering spreading and spreading, with no one left to oppose giving it what it wants..." Felih swallows hard again and looks back at his mate.

"Death would be on your hands either way, so long as any primal lived."

"You don't know that!" he shouts, head snapping up to glare at Felih. "I told you, the only thing you short-lived races know is war. You kill anything you fear and label it a monster to assuage your own conscience - just look at how you treat the beastmen! Your primals are a reflection of that. But not ours. A people such as ours who never knew conflict would never dream up something so horrific!"

He subsides clutching his forearms, shoulders hunched. "Elidibus would never allow it," he mutters.

"You don't know, either!" Felih finally turns around, eyes brimming with tears as he shakes and throws a hand out to the side, frustration burning in his chest. "You can look down on us all you want, but in the end, you created a primal who required more and more sacrifice to provide anything! If your primal was truly so pure, so omnipotent, it could have truly restored balance without ever needing such sacrifices and offerings! But a primal is a primal no matter the source- it will consume the aether until there is nothing left to give! No matter what a primal aims or is intended to provide- it will drain all the world around it in the end!"

"To be tempered is to do everything to keep that primal alive, and that means to keep it existing, the sacrifices would never end!"

He has no defence to offer to that. All he can do is glare a few moments longer before he's forced to drop his gaze. He had thought he had known what he wanted. But the truth is rarely so simple, is it?

It's then that the phantom speaks up again, quiet yet firm.

"A life for a life. There is no fairer trade, is there not?"

The other Emet-Selch half-turns, staring at the body on the altar. They grip their staff tightly, though it's hard to tell with their pitch black gloves. "I do this not just for him but for my people. One final offering. That is all it would take. And then we could restore our paradise."

It feels as though his stomach has dropped out. No, he can't make this choice. He doesn't want to make this choice. It had been easier when Zodiark was all he had lived for. He had had a purpose then. Destroying worlds then had been nothing more than gently fitting the cracked parts of a broken pot back together.

His eyes burn and tears slide silently down his cheeks. Sinking to the ground, he hugs his knees to his chest and cries.

He's never felt so alone.

His mate seems to break. And so does Felih's heart. He ignores the phantom behind him, instead sinking down to his knees before his mate, ears low. A hand gently reaches out for Hades, trying to gently stroke over his hair, along his cheek, stomach turning with guilt and misery.

"...I'm sorry," he murmurs quietly. But he knows his beloved can't keep running from the truth. Felih is small and helpless and powerless, he knows. Compared to full Ancients, he is nothing but a husk and a shard, a shabby substitute for the person Hades truly loved. It hurts to have it confirmed, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

If only it were so easy to stop loving.

"I want to die," he mutters. There's no light left in his eyes - then again, has there been any since Zodiark's influence was ripped from him? "Everything and everyone I ever loved is gone. Even Hythlodaeus - he, too, will die. What point is there in living this half-life, never knowing when it will be snatched away? Release me from this poor joke already."

The phantom lifts its staff again, the glow beginning to gather once more at its head. "You would abandon Zodiark? Your own god? I think not."

Felih's heart breaks further, and more tears roll down his cheeks as he hears the confession. He knows, he's known, but it hurts, seeing someone he so dearly loves so hopeless and miserable, trapped in this immortality and limbo with no escape, and no hope of joy or new purpose.

He can only crawl forward and try to hug him tight, tail curling around him as he kisses his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, dearest," he whispers, ears pinned against his hair. "I'm so sorry." He is a sundered, pathetic wisp of the one Hades loved. He can do nothing to inspire joy or hope in him, and he feels useless and helpless, but he does turn briefly to the phantom.

"Could you just leave?! He's had enough- he's dealing with enough without a shade making it worse!"

Edited 2021-01-10 14:52 (UTC)

"Leave?" The shade scoffs before breaking out into harsh laughter. "I have always been there, in the back of his mind. I am his doubts. His fears. One could sooner banish one's shadow."

It steps forward, sneering at Felih as it looms over the pair of them. The energy in the staff continues to build. "Aren't you merely a comfort creature to him? If I erase you, 'twill unburden his heart."

Hades breath catches and he throws his arms protectively around Felih, staring up at his shade with wild eyes.

"No. No! I'll not lose more than I already have!"

Felih's ears pin further back when the shade calls him a comfort creature, another jab at his already broken heart, and more tears run down his face before he's startled by Hades suddenly holding him close.

Comfort creature or no, Hades cares for him somehow. Even if it's not love, even if it's just as replacement, or comfort- Hades wants him still.

"It would better unburden his heart to be rid of you," is Felih's retort to the shade, as he cuddles closer against his beloved, still protectively between his mate and the shade.

He's breathing hard, staring at his shade in fear but clutching Felih tightly to himself. No, he doesn't want to lose them. Felih had accepted him wholeheartedly, had done more for him and given him far more love than he deserved.

"Felih," he begins numbly, glancing down. Whatever else he's planning to say dies on his tongue. His lover is crying, shaking even as they cling to him. Heart clenching, he bows his head and kisses the salty tracks away.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I am not the perfect partner for you."

Felih is surprised by the kisses, by the apologies, and it just makes his heart ache even more. But he doesn't give in, pulling his mate down into a soft, proper kiss, tail curling around him protectively as he stays put, shielding his mate from the phantom.

"I promised to love you, and I won't give up on you," he murmurs softly, before turning back to the shade. "It'll take more than a shade to drive me away. I won't let it hurt you. I won't. I refuse. I'm staying right here, and it's not going to scare me away."

Without his magic, all he can do in this cursed cave is hold his mate tight and stay put between him and the phantom borne of fear- but it's still something he can do- so he does.

"Whoever I was, whoever I am- I know I wouldn't want you to succumb to this."

Azem...

He bites his lip, recalling the flashes of them that he glimpsed in Felih once upon a time. Not quite the same, but also very much so. It doesn't matter to him since they are and always will be one of his oldest loves.

Glancing up towards his shade, he stares into its cold, hard eyes, stares at a face he barely remembers after losing his original body. Is that really him? Had that been him? He takes a shuddering breath and gently disentangles himself from Felih enough to get to his feet, pulling them up after him.

"I gave much of myself to Zodiark," he mutters, lacing his fingers with Felih's. "No more. No, I've lived long enough."

He starts walking towards the back of the cave, forcing himself to look only at the way ahead and not the bodies piled against the walls nor the haphazard limbs threatening to trip his feet, ignoring the body of his friend on the altar though tears well in his eyes as they go past.

The phantom doesn't hinder him. Only stares at his back and judges his worth.

"...So be it," they say.

When he looks back over his shoulder, the scene is gone.

In a way, seeing this different face is... familiar. Some part of him feels like he remembers it, but he also knows he's never seen that phantom's face before in his own lifetime. Still, he tries to commit it to memory nonetheless, because he wants to remember what his beloved once looked like.

He squeezes Hades' hand as he's tugged up to his feet, sticking close to his side and relishing the warmth that comes from their fingers lacing together, and follows where he leads. He's still bristling and anxious as they pass the phantom, but in the end, it is merely an illusion, and he hopes it cannot truly harm them.

When his mate overcomes it all, the cave seems silent and still and empty, and a wave of relief overcomes him. Felih is relieved that Hades could overcome this, but he's also relieved that it seems like his own fears have yet to manifest- or perhaps, in the end, he too feared something like his mate's terror?

He squeezes his hand once more, bunting against him and purring softly, a register meant to soothe and comfort.

"You overcame the illusion. I'm so glad..." he murmurs quietly. "I love you so, Hades. To the end."

Did he? He chokes back the urge to laugh, but it spills over, bubbling out of him in a mad, helpless deluge. He doesn't feel like he overcame anything at all.

"I'll see them all again," he says once he calms, staring blankly at the darkness stretching out before him. "When the world ends."

A glimmer of light in the dark. A sprite pops out to an array of sparkling motes. It bobs in place then weaves ahead, halting and bobbing again until they follow. It will lead them to the crystals they must take back to repair the mirror.

Felih's ears pin down but he squeezes his mate's hand tighter, heart breaking in his chest. There is nothing he can do, for his beloved. He'll have to talk to Hythlodaeus again later, no doubt- plead with him to help in a way that Felih cannot.

For now, he focuses on following the sprite along, thanking the gods that his own fears have not become manifest yet. He doesn't think he could bear it after such turmoil.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

January catch-all (open)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: suicide mentions etc

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject