isleofavalon | [CLOSED/TBA for now?] august mayhem log

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final fantasy xiv: hythlodaeus

[CLOSED/TBA for now?] august mayhem log

🧙 WHO: Hythlodaeus and the close CR! maybe others later, who knows.
⚔️️ WHAT: Recovering after his revival, fluff, trying to trail his murderhusband.
🕒 WHEN: First half of August.
🗺️ WHERE: Red Spring, Camelot
⚠️ WARNINGS: None as of yet, will likely have references to gore/abuse in the future.

A. Camelot; Polydegmon's

[TBA, I'm so sorry I just want to throw this at Chips before I go to bed]

B. Red Spring

[TBA]

C. Trailing (The First)

As Hythlodaeus's recovery progresses, his mind grows clearer. It's still a slow process, of course, but the treatments at the resort, the peaceful atmosphere and the security his friends' presence brings all work towards restoring not just his body, but his heart as well.

Unfortunately, that also means he is now in a state to notice things around him more. And one of them is the strangely late time that Hades returns to their apartment one night, as though he'd been out almost until dawn. It's quite hard to tell by his appearance, given that Hades looks exhausted at the best of times, but Hythlodaeus has been his friend for eons, and the many little cues are still noticeable to him. Despite his dodging and statements to the contrary, Hades is tired and clearly worried about something.

But the conversations don't lead to anything much, and so the next time Hythlodaeus resigns to try and follow his friend. He stays in bed for long enough that Hades would believe him to be asleep, then quickly gets up and gets dressed, his new familiar keeping watch of the street from the windowsill. Once he's ready, Hythlodaeus slips out of the house - just in time to see Hades turn into a darker alley at the far end of the street.

Heart pounding with worry, he tries to follow - but he's not so good at concealment, not in these circumstances. Though he tries to keep to the shadows and step quietly, an all too-obvious pool of silence and tension follows him. It's only a matter of time before Hades would notice he's being trailed.

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Though he is a little surprised by the hug, Hythlodaeus returns it readily, wrapping his arms around Hades.

"... I promise. I do not wish to..."

He trails off nervously, afraid to contemplate what might happen to him if he were to venture out alone again, and tightens his hold on his friend.

"But what of you, Hades?.."

Breathing out slowly, he says, "As I said, I'll be fine."

Once he manages to compose himself, he peels away reluctantly and resumes walking.

"Shall I sing you to sleep? I think I still remember a song or two from those bygone days..." He tries to bolster the mood with a faint smile Hythlodaeus' way.

Fortunately for Hades, the distraction works. Hythlodaeus smiles in return, looking more relaxed now.

"I would love that. You've a wonderful voice, too."

His cheeks colour and he hunches his shoulders, distracted, for a moment, from thoughts of his premeditated murder.

"You speak of my old voice. You have never heard me sing with this one," he mutters. Spotting the street which leads to the shop, he picks up the pace slightly and tugs Hythlodaeus along behind him. "I have not had any cause to sing in the past millennia. Temper your expectations."

He chuckles, amused by this quick return to their usual dynamic. But it is more than welcome.

"If you have not had the chance to sing yet, how can you know you would be bad at it? Mayhap there is an innate gift. And I must needs point out that lullabies are oft sung in a softer, lower voice, quite close to the vocal range required for a regular conversation."

He rolls his eyes but does not offer argument. If Hythlodaeus is cheered by it, that's all that matters.

"The First Emperor of Garlemald, singing lullabies to a lover. If the people could see me now..."

He doesn't sound displeased. Call it rather 'exasperated affection'.

"Once more, my genius makes the previously unthinkable a reality. Are you not proud of me, Hades?"

His tone is more subdued than the cheery, cocky words would imply, but the effort is there. He wants, needs things to be normal. He yearns for a life where his worst fear, if that, was getting scolded by Hades for his mischief.

"Oh yes," he huffs. "Terribly, terribly proud of you, my friend."

He squeezes Hythlodaeus' hand, keeping up a light (subdued) banter as they reach the shop. In short time they're back upstairs and he shrugs off his cloak as if having every intention of turning in with Hythlodaeus.

"Must I tuck you in as well, 'Daeus?" he asks teasingly.

The question earns another smile - in the time it took them to get back Hythlodaeus had fully calmed down, if only because right now it is quite hard for him to focus on anything that isn't the current moment. Both past and future slip his mind easily, too big, too frightening to comprehend... but at least this short-term focus is not without its advantages.

"If you've a mind to pamper me so, how could I refuse?"

His expression softens. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pats the dishevelled quilt - no doubt left that way when Hythlodaeus slipped out after him.

"Come here, then. Let me hold you."

A lullaby from their time... It's terribly difficult to remember one now. He hasn't been a child for a long, long while, and the events of the world post-Sundering have caused such memories to fade even further.

Unable to keep the happy smile off his face, Hythlodaeus quickly undresses - and under his own robe he's still in his nightclothes, since it wasn't as though he had much time to spare. He climbs onto the bed, snuggling up to Hades and tipping his head briefly to give his partner a kiss on the cheek.

"Mayhap I ought to have you do it every night."

"Remind me: how old are you again?" he retorts. He places an arm around his friend's shoulders and leans into them, willing himself to relax. Time is ticking away but he cannot slip up now.

"Besides," he adds, "if I sang to you every night it would cease to mean anything."

"Do you truly believe so?" Hythlodaeus replies with a chuckle, resting his head on Hades's shoulder and closing his eyes. This feels... right. This is what he wants his life to be, this softness and affectionate ribbing, a kind of peacefulness that he wants to cling to even more than ever before.

Ah, this is terrible. If he isn't careful, he'll be tempted to fall asleep too. It's only been a few days since he has started cutting his sleep short but it's beginning to weigh on him.

Forcing his eyes to remain open, he nods.

"Yes. I wouldn't be me if I were the type to sing lullabies on demand." Carding his fingers gently through Hythlodaeus' hair, he clears his throat and begins to sing softly.

The song is in the language of their people. A quiet tune about the stars in the sky. Though it has fourteen verses - one for each constellation - it's rare for the singer to make it past the fifth before a child drops off to sleep. Hades hopes that will hold true for his friend as well.

Fortunately for Hades, between his general lack of energy due to still recovering and the exhaustion and adrenaline of trying to tail his friend earlier it does not take long for Hythlodaeus to start nodding off, though he does his best to stay awake until the constellation assigned to the Architect. He smiles as the nostalgic words wash over him, looking happier than he ever has since his arrival to Avalon, and after the verse is over he finally lets himself fall asleep.

Although he can tell by the way Hythlodaeus grows lax against him and how his breathing comes slow and even that his friend has fallen asleep, he continues to hum for another minute until he's absolutely certain. Another kiss is pressed fondly to the top of Hythlodaeus' head. Then he gently eases them down on to the pillows and pulls the quilt over their shoulders.

Hades sits back and breathes out quietly. For a little while, he gazes at his lover with unfettered fondness. It would be nice to lie down and forget about thoughts of vengeance...

But when he blinks, he sees Hythlodaeus bruised, bloodied, cowering in fear of abandonment. He recalls how tightly the other man had clung to him, not out of love but out of panic.

I'm keeping him safe, he tells himself as he rises to his feet once more. Stealing silently out of the room, he fetches his cloak from its hook and wraps himself in its shadow once more.

"I'm doing this for him," he mutters to himself in the chilly late night air. "If I mix some sleeping potion into his tea before bed..." He's careful to close the shop door without disturbing the bell. Then he hurries off, hoping that his target is still where he last heard them being.

It had been a good decision to start drugging Hythlodaeus' tea, he thinks as he tails his final target through the better part of the morning. Few would argue with the alibi that he has turned in to sleep with his lover - and Hythlodaeus himself is none the wiser for what Hades has been doing for the past two weeks. At least, he doesn't think they are.

All that is about to change now. He has the leader in his sights and he won't let anyone stop him from killing them.

As soon as he sees an opening, he calls to his familiar ("Nyx!") and activates the Soul Catcher. The people near him stumble back with shocked cries as he transforms into a draconic avatar. But he has eyes only for one person.

His target pales and immediately bolts.

Hades fights with reckless abandon, tearing up the street with his alchemy and firing aetherial bullets ahead of him. No injury seems to slow him down for long. In fact, they vanish almost as soon as he acquires them. A long gash down his arm here, cuts and bruises to his flank there - Hades takes them all in his stride until one last leap drops him squarely on top of his target's back.

They crash to the pavement with his weight crushing the air from their lungs. "No, please, no...!" they beg; he doesn't listen. They hadn't listened to Hythlodaeus. Why should he extend them the same courtesy?

Eyes bright and savage, he wraps his hands about their neck and begins to squeeze.

Hythlodaeus had realized quite early on that Hades had started adding something to his drinks, but saw no problem with it: after all, his friend is quite the worrywart, and has a tendency to help out from the sidelines, as it were. It would never occur to him that Hades might have any kind of ulterior motive.

But even the sleeping potions are not an infallible solution, and one morning Hythlodaeus wakes up with a jolt, struggling out of the claws of a half-formed nightmare - one that turns real, too, once he realizes that the space next to him is empty and cold. Hades is gone, and has been gone a long time. There are, of course, many reasonable explanations for his absence - shop business, something to do with their friends, simple insomnia. But it's nigh impossible for Hythlodaeus to remain reasonable, not when his fears still weigh on him so heavily. In panic, he scrambles to get up, get dressed, run through the shop calling for his friend - and then onto the street when it proves to be empty.

His heart only sinks further when there turns out to be some kind of commotion in the streets. Terrified that this might have something to do with Hades - perhaps those accursed smugglers had found them in the end, perhaps someone else decided to make trouble for them, - he rushes blindly down the street until he comes across signs of battle, pavement torn up, jagged spikes jutting out from the sides of buildings, branches of the city trees hanging broken or snapped off, broken things underfoot... The scene squeezes Hythlodaeus's heart painfully, yet another reminder that this is not the peaceful land that their home was, but fear drives him on. Hades had said he'd tried to investigate the strange murders, hadn't he? Perhaps he did get caught up in it all, and now the criminal wanted their revenge...

There are screams up ahead. A man, screaming.

Hythlodaeus speeds up, feeling like his heart and lungs are about to burst from the strain, and when he finally makes it his head is spinning too much for him to make out any real details. A figure on top of someone, not human and yet somehow familiar...

"Stop," he manages to gasp out even as he has to lean against a wall. If he were in the state to think logically, Hythlodaeus would realize that this was an incredibly stupid thing to do - he does not know what's going on, he is absolutely no use in a fight, he can't even contact Hades or the others quickly enough if something happens... but the one thing he knows is he doesn't want to see anyone get hurt, ever again.

Familiar indeed. The draconic scales and appendages together with that distinctive purple haze should immediately give away who is pinning down the screaming man.

Hades does not hear Hythlodaeus arrive. His focus is utterly consumed by the fae before him.

"Help? You want help?" He barks out laughter, pressing down harder on their throat. The man flails, trying to push him off, away, eyes bulging. "No-one helped my friend when he cried for help now, did they? And no-one will come for you."

He leans closer, leering, and eases the pressure just enough to keep them cognisant. "You saw my sculptures, did you not? Your people are all dead. You are alone." Sitting up straight, he laughs again. "Unless someone here from the crowd would like to intervene?" he jeers. "Come! If you would defend such a vile piece of morbol pus then come at me!!"

Even if he did not immediately recognize the figure, there is no mistaking that voice. Hythlodaeus knows it too well, even if it's twisted by fury and gloating madness right now. And for better or for worse, that realization takes up too much space in Hythlodaeus's mind for him to understand what else Hades might be saying. This... this can't be true, after all. He must still be caught up in a nightmare. This can't really be his friend, his bonded trying to kill someone and laughing about it. It can't...

"No, no, no, no no, no, no," he half-whispers in panic as he finally manages to force himself to move, struggling through the bodies of the frightened onlookers. Hythlodaeus still has no idea what he can do here, but he can't... he can't just stand there. Even if this is all just a dream, he can't stand by and do nothing.

"Hades!"

Hythlodaeus calls out the name once he's out on the open space, voice full of confusion and fear and concern, and rushes forward--

--tries to rush forward, but it feels like his whole body is paralyzed once he sees who the victim is. He remembers their face and voice as well, those that haunt his dreams and reality whenever he's alone, whenever his focus slips. The terror is plain on his face and in the shaking of his hands as Hythlodaeus presses them over his mouth, slowly trying to back away.

"N-No... no..."

The words come out as a whisper, Hythlodaeus's intent of stopping Hades forgotten as the fear seizes him, mind and body.

Someone - a knight, judging by their sword and armour - pushes through the crowd and strides forward, drawing their weapon. Hades looks towards them and his lips pull back into a feral smile.

"How amusing."

He lifts his hand and snaps his fingers. At the knight's feet, a sudden pillar formed out of the dirt and cobblestones thrusts upwards and topples them over. Hades laughs as more shoot out in a rough circle, trapping the knight in an earthen and stone prison. Their muffled, angry cries can be heard coming out the gap in the top.

His laughter is cut short by a sharp pain in his abdomen. He looks down and sees the man has thrust their dagger into his side. Growling, he wraps his hands about their neck, lifts them up just enough to slam their head down against the ground. While they're dazed, he yanks the dagger out and turns it into a useless pile of paper clips and leather cord.

"Pathetic," he sneers. The wound in his side isn't even bleeding. That soul catcher had been worth the cost.

This is a dream, Hythlodaeus thinks in a daze. None of what is happening feels real. He flinches back at the sound, the sight of Hades slamming the fae's head down. He'd thought he knew what Hades had meant by telling him about his past deeds. He'd thought he knew what it was like to watch his friend fight - after all, they've been in a few incidents at this point. But somehow none of that comes even close to what is happening right now, and the way that it weighs on Hythlodaeus's heart.

"Please," he whispers, clutching at his own head. Let this stop, or let him wake up at least. Someone from the crowd with more presence of mind than others reaches out to take Hythlodaeus's arm and try to drag him back - after all, it's dangerous here; who knows what the madman will do next? But Hythlodaeus tries to struggle out of it, unthinking, raising his voice again.

"Hades!"

He's distantly aware of someone calling his name. Thinking it simply to be an echo brought on by the blood pounding in his ears, he ignores it.

"I thought for a long time about what I would do with you when I finally found you," he rasps, thumbing at the man's ear with his claw-tipped fingers. "In my world, fae kind such as yourself would provide a glut of aether to those who trade in such things. But no such market exists here. So..."

Tap, tap, tap go his claws, walking themselves just beneath one of their eyes. Without warning, he pierces the socket and rips out the eye. A blood-curdling scream erupts from his victim and they thrash futilely beneath his weight. Similar screams come from those watching. Any with weaker stomachs or sensibilities immediately flees.

"Oh, do be quiet," he says disdainfully, inspecting the bloody pulp. "You're disturbing the citizenry."

The only reason Hythlodaeus does not scream is because he's paralyzed by... it's hard to even call it fear. He has no idea what to call this feeling of the world utterly slipping away from him, everything he ever held dear or knew to be true turning into rot and decay. This is... this is so wrong. It can't be Hades, it can't--except he knows that it is. Somehow, he knows.

The bystander still tries to drag him away, but Hythlodaeus is frozen in place, eyes locked to the terrible scene. This time, the word that tumbles from his lips is quiet.

"Why?.."

He turns the eyeball over between his claws, delicately holding the thing so that it doesn't burst and leak its vitreous humour all over his hand.

"What?" he asks as the fae whimpers pathetically. "Do you want it back? Oh, very well..."

With his other hand, he forces the man's mouth open and pops the eyeball inside. Then he covers their mouth and pinches their nose to force them to swallow, unmoved by the frantic flailing and tears leaking out from their remaining eye.

"Chew and swallow. You wouldn't want to choke now, would you?" Smirking, he waits until he hears them do just that and lets them breathe properly again. Bloody smears coat their chin and cheek. He returns to thumbing the man's ear while they blubber incoherently.

"You know," Hades resumes conversationally, "I will admit to admiring one thing about short-lived races. That drive to live is quite unmatched. With enough hope and will, they will do anything to live. I have seen them crawl through the mud of a battlefield as fire rained overhead, dive into sewerage to escape a captor, even mutilate their own bodies to slip through gaps too narrow for the body of man."

Pinching the outer shell of their ear, he thrusts the tip of his thumb claw into soft flesh. The fae screams again, this time not bothering to beg for their life as Hades neatly severs the ear from their head. Blood drips from the mutilated hole left behind and puddles on the churned up earth. Smiling humourlessly, he waves the thing before their face and leans close.

"So if you want to live, I suggest you start eating."

Ignoring their moans, he repeats what he did with their eye and forces the lump of flesh into their mouth.

For a few seconds, the fae manages to hold out. But lack of air forces them to do as Hades bids. They swallow...and then begin to gag. Hades quickly releases their nose but it's too late: they bring up the contents of their stomach into their mouth. Blood, bile, and the undigested remains of the eye and ear force their way out from beneath Hades' hand.

He leans back in disgust but makes no move to help clear their airway. Thus he bears witness to the fae's final, horrific moments where they slowly suffocate in a pool of their own vomit. Unable to speak, unable to cry for help. Limbs jerking, hands clawing at his soiled clothing, and a wordless plea in their remaining eye...before they finally fall still.

Their death doesn't fill him with the satisfaction he expects it to. It simply leaves a larger hollow in his heart. He remains straddled atop them, staring expressionlessly at their mutilated corpse.

[CLOSED/TBA for now?] august mayhem log

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cw: violence, gore etc. from hereon

a lot of very bad things in here!

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cw emeto, suicidal thoughts kinda, mentions of gore, etc

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