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

They'd split up, despite Hades's grumbling about how Hythlodaeus can manage to get into trouble in a closed empty room, not to mention a cave, but the argument that they might be able to find the crystal quicker eventually held some weight. Hythlodaeus has wandered off to a side cave, the light of his familiar's fire reflecting warm orange on the walls, but it feels like it hasn't been three minutes before he suddenly hears his name. Smiling to himself, he retraces his steps, poking his head back into the main cavern - to see his friend seemingly frozen in place.

"Hades?"

Hythlodaeus frowns slightly, a little worried, and strides towards the other man, who suddenly backs away from empty air before him - a fact that makes Hythlodaeus no less anxious. He gestures to his familiar which takes off his shoulder instantly, seemingly growing a little bigger as it hovers over the two of them protectively, and then Hythlodaeus reaches for Hades's shoulder--

--only to be dragged into the illusion. He startles, only some back part of his mind noting the change in the scenery as his attention is solely focused on the face he hasn't seen in some time - and even though the features are the same, there is a coldness, otherness to it that strikes fear in Hythlodaeus.

"Hades?.."

He repeats the name, disbelieving, uncertain of what's going on - he can feel his friend's shoulder under his hand, the warmth of the body he's wearing now, yet there's no denying that the man standing before them is the one Hythlodaeus had first met so many, many centuries ago.

But once his mind manages to refocus on the present, the sheer sense of wrongness becomes more and more prominent. The sight of the bodies around the cave finally seeps into his consciousness, the uncaring, lifeless look in the Architect's eyes is all the more menacing, and with a sinking feeling Hythlodaeus realizes that the energy gathering in the staff is likely aimed at the Hades he's come to know now. But for better or for worse, he's always been stubborn in his way...

"No."

He steps in front of his friend, as though to shield him, extends a hand towards the man in the mask in a stopping gesture. In truth, his heart is beating madly with unfamiliar fear - never, never before has he been afraid of Hades, and he's barely managing to keep himself from thinking about the bodies lining the floor and the walls, for if he does he knows he won't be able to move anymore, and yet... Though he's turned down the position, Hythlodaeus is still chief of the bureau, second to the Architect, and protecting their people is still his duty. And Hades is still one of them, no matter what, even if it's himself Hythlodaeus might need to protect him from.

The firebird exudes a calming warmth and Hades' shoulders relax marginally. But he remains gripped with terror. For so long, he has been avoiding his own past deeds. Looking upon the fruits of his labours, anyone would be struck dumb with horror.

The other Emet-Selch pauses. The glow from his staff wanes. Looking Hythlodaeus over dispassionately they say, "Why do you stop me? I do this for your sake."

Behind Hythlodaeus, Hades sucks in a sharp breath and grips his friend's sleeve. "Don't," he warns in a low tone. "I lost you once already. I'll not lose you again."

Hythlodaeus breathes out carefully. So it does come to this... It's not how he wanted to have this conversation - if he wanted it at all, - but there is little choice here.

"I want to hope you would not strike me down," he murmurs to Hades before turning to face the Architect before them again. By the heavens, let him be right in that assumption.

He takes a deep breath and begins to speak, voice quiet but determined.

"You do it for your own sake, Hades. What needs have the dead got? But it is an unimaginably painful thing to be torn from our people, to be alone when there have always been many. A feeling I have got a taste of in this world, but it is as a speck of grit to the ocean of your own suffering. 'Tis in your grief and pain and loneliness that you yearn for us who have long gone. For the comfort and joy and happiness of our lives. For the world to make sense again."

For a moment his voice breaks and Hythlodaeus swallows painfully. How hard it is to say such things when he, too, feels them...

"But what manner of a star would you bring back with such sacrifice? How do you think we, I would feel, knowing the price it took? For there to be peace in the world, one must needs be at peace with oneself. But how could we be at peace when it came at the cost of countless lives? How much guilt would you lay upon us to assuage your own?"

He breathes out, shakily, feeling his hands tremble. He doesn't know how this shade would respond to his words, and fear still grips him at heart. Nevertheless, he perseveres.

"So... please, Hades. No more. I am here, and you are alone no longer. If you need proof that there is yet another way, then let me be it."

Heart thundering, he extends a hand to the shade of his friend. Maybe this is stupid and he'll get killed for this, but he can't not try.

The Architect appears unmoved by Hythlodaeus' words, staring at the extended hand with curled lip. But Hades, listening to everything, finds his breath coming short. The hand gripping his friend's sleeve trembles.

"You haven't seen their souls," he says, lips barely moving. "So weak and feeble, so pale. You have much keener sight than I - you would be horrified to see them now. They don't know what they're missing. How can they be so content with mediocrity?"

The memory of it still makes him feel ill. This is not how life should be, he thinks, even as images of Felih and Irhya float before his mind's eye.

It didn't work, then. Hythlodaeus sighs quietly and withdraws his hand, but keeps his eyes on the Architect, unwilling to back down.

"...You've always cared greatly. But 'tis that care that has led you astray now."

"What do you want them to do, Hades? To give up their lives for something they cannot even conceive of? For mothers and fathers to watch their children's souls be taken? For lovers to be parted? Even animals feel grief and joy, and they... are more than that. Even in this world, tell me: could you truly, in good conscience, raise your hand to another? To a child? By all accounts, they are just as pale as the souls of the new world."

Hythlodaeus takes another breath, trying to stay calm. While the initial sharp fear has gone, there is now dark anxiety swirling in him, making him feel as though time has slowed down, making every movement sluggish, underlined by the nervous beating of his heart.

"I do not think you can. I do not want to believe you could. But... if the answer is yes..."

He turns back to Hades, a sorrowful look on his face, takes his hand - an almost desperate hold.

"I've no desire for a salvation that would maim someone I love so."

'Can you not see the bodies arrayed around us?' he wants to shout. Can Hythlodaeus not see how many he's killed? He is maimed beyond hope. If he had a scar for every body in this cave, he wagers even Hythlodaeus would not recognise the soul beneath them, marred as it would be by dead tissue and fresh skin. His sense of worthlessness returns heavier than ever, bringing with it doubt that his friend would stay true to their word to stay by his side.

He stares listlessly at their clasped hands. Then beyond at the mangled body of a friend who, in his view, is long dead.

"...How do I even know you're real?" he asks quietly.

He can't see anyone's soul. That would only happen in a dream, where there are no souls to be seen. That's it. That must be it. It would explain the unlikely appearance of his friend. It would explain the ridiculous assertion that he could still save their world. Of course he can't save his world. He's dead.

Something must have happened to him in Duplicity. Mayhap this is a part of the Creator's experiment. Or mayhap this is what happens to those who disappear.

"I filled their quota for the month," he finds himself muttering aloud, anxiously. "This cannot be the rehabilitation centre. I followed their rules. I played my part perfectly..."

And on he mutters, having apparently forgotten anyone else is here with him.

Hythlodaeus stares at his friend, unnerved by his sudden retreat into that state of unreality. He whips his head around to make sure that the Architect isn't going to attack them just yet and then turns back to Hades, taking the man's face into his hands.

"Hades. Can you hear me?"

His firebird worries, too - shooting the Architect a suspicious look as well, it flaps closer to Hades, reaches out to preen through his hair.

The Architect looks on, apparently content to let his real counterpart descend into a dissociative spell or whatever it is that has taken Hades.

Hades, though, he stares up at his friend. "I can hear you," he says absently. "I suppose 'twould make sense to make you their proxy."

He starts laughing. A soft chuckle then helpless laughter. He leans against Hythlodaeus, resting his head on a shoulder. "What do they want to know by this...? The depth of my love for you? I should think I demonstrated that aptly already."

Humour fading, he stares at the bodies piled against the opposite wall, so many misshapen lumps blurring to a single dark void. "Life for life. No fairer trade."

The sudden laughter only confirms Hythlodaeus's suspicion that his friend is... not really here anymore, not in his mind. And even though Hythlodaeus has been getting better at using this land's magicks, they are no substitute for what he could do in their own world - soothe his soul, bring it back, comfort it.

A part of him freezes and wants to draw away at the whispered assumption that he is not himself, merely a substitute for someone - he still doesn't know the workings of Duplicity and the extent of the effect it had on his friend. Feeling helpless, Hythlodaeus gently rests his hands on Hades's back.

"...'Tis only fair when the life is given willingly."

He brings his focus closer, resting his palm on Hythlodaeus' chest. Right where the soul would rest. "So this is your test, then?" he asks. "A question of what I would give to see my goals realised?"

If he closes his eyes, he can recall his friend's vibrant soul. A gleaming amber bearing the warmth of a summer's day; the excited hues of a sunset; the playful spark of sunlight on water; as comforting as the firebird upon his shoulder.

"I can't do this," he says, swallowing thickly, his fingers curling tightly into his friend's shirt, "Look at how many there are. Zodiark was meant to save us. Yet it has been nigh on twelve millennia now and I have saved no-one." Drawing in ragged breaths, he begins to cry silently.

"Zodiark, help me, I know not what to do."

Behind Hythlodaeus, the Architect smiles.

Oh, seeing Hades cry is more than devastating. Hythlodaeus feels his own despair curl into a tight ball in his chest, flow together, melt and rise again as cold flames of fury. He wraps his arms around Hades protectively, exhaling a very controlled breath.

"...Stay with me. We are given a new chance here, Hades. Come back to the days before our fall and prevent it. I told you - you are no longer alone, you old fool."

He murmurs softly, before turning his head to cast a backward glance at the Architect, and this time his voice is nothing but cold steel.

"What more do you want to take from him?"

"I would take his worries, his doubts, his guilt. I would take it all and grant him purpose again." This cold, lofty Hades regards his flesh and blood counterpart with disdain. "He has lost his way, but our lord and saviour, Zodiark, will set him on the correct course again. His work is unfinished."

The shade seems unperturbed by Hythlodaeus' anger.

Hythlodaeus simply watches the shade for a while without replying, his breathing still coming purposefully measured. He still feels furious, of course, but at whom or what should it be aimed? The shade, too, is only a part of his friend; where else would it be drawn out from other than his own psyche? If this is how Hades feels...

Hythlodaeus combs his fingers through his friend's hair shallowly as he tries to think, still keeping the Architect in his sight.

"No. Though you may have tried to fashion yourself into one, Hades, you are not a tool to be used and discarded. And those worries and doubts and guilt are not yours to take, but mine - as his and your oldest friend, the chief of your Bureau."

The hand gripping Hythlodaeus' shirt shakes him slightly. "You did nothing wrong," he says hoarsely. "I approved the means to save our people. I helped make Elidibus into the heart of our new god. The responsibility for our people's salvation...falls to me. To all of us that were in the Convocation then."

Wracked by quiet weeping, he clutches Hythlodaeus like a lifeline. "I would not wish this burden on anyone, least of all you. Given the choice...I would rather you have never known the cost."

Hythlodaeus hugs his friend closer, as though trying to shield him, runs his hand through his hair soothingly. Despite his outer calm, conflict still rages within him; anger at their fate, horror at what Hades has done over those twelve thousand years, refusal to lie to his friend just to soothe him - because that would just hurt them both more, very shortly, - the bone-deep love and devotion he feels towards the man. All of it becomes a thorny tangle, maybe impossible to unravel. The best he can do is the best he can.

"...Of course you would. And I know that I would wish to keep you ignorant, too, had our places been switched. But I tell you once more, Hades - you are my friend before you are the Architect. And you cannot forbid me to share this burden with you. You know full well how stubborn I am."

He rests a hand over Hades's, fingers curling over his friend's protectively.

"I made you a promise, Hades, and I stand by it even now. Even here. I'll walk with you and face your deeds. Judge you and scold you, decide your penance, but not leave you."

Hythlodaeus breathes out, shakily.

"I'll not lose you again either, you old fool."

It's more reassuring than Hythlodaeus knows to have this affirmation of love. Hades hadn't thought he would have to confront the open judgement of his kin, but this is enough. More than enough. He's just not sure there is any penance that can make up for what he's done.

He trusts Hythlodaeus though. He would trust his friend with his life. He just doesn't know if this all isn't some delusion meant to test him.

Taking in a deep breath, he cups his friend's face and kisses them gently. Then he takes their hand and starts to walk onwards, further into the cave. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ground, unable to make himself look at the bodies or at Hythlodaeus' corpse.

As he passes the Architect, they leave him with a parting jab.

"Remember that you have already failed once. What makes you so sure that you won't fail again?"

His breath catches and he breaks into a run, fleeing past them and the altar, fleeing well into the darker depths of the cave with Hythlodaeus hopefully still behind him.

There is no sprite to greet him. Only pressing darkness. Eventually he slows and releases Hythlodaeus' hand, clutching his head instead as his quiet weeping echoes against the cave walls.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

January catch-all (open)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

hyth: this is helping right

cw for...idek what but something for sure

cw for being emet

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject