isleofavalon | September open log

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September open log

🧙 WHO: Emet-Selch and YOU
⚔️️ WHAT: Local Ascian attempts to catch fairy coins and also dons his old robes for anonymity
🕒 WHEN: Throughout September
🗺️ WHERE: Lestari, Camelot (see prompts)
⚠️ WARNINGS: Necromancy but otherwise none

1. Bright-eyed and Bushy-tailed

"A fairy coin?"

The old man nods. "They wake around now when the weather grows cooler. Would you catch one for me? You should be able to find them in Lestari, if memory serves." His eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles. "I'll be fine without you for a day or two. I really would like to see one before I die."

Emet-Selch can hardly refuse the request. Surely he can be excused from visiting the old man for a day in order to fulfil a request like this? It's with this trepidation that he sets out on the journey there together with the Elphame Traders. When he arrives, he has to pause and stare at the incredible city, before belatedly realising he's blocking the way of those arriving behind him. He hastily moves further in, but he continues to stare at his surroundings and pay little mind to where he's wandering.

It seems that he'll have to partake of these...fizzy lifting drinks in order to catch a fairy coin. Well, the traders are paying him and others to try them so he supposes he may as well make it easier on himself.

How hard could it be to float anyway? He used to do it all the time.

...As it turns out, once he starts drifting upwards, that there's no easy way to propel himself through the air when he lacks his usual magicks. Emet-Selch flails about a few heads above, spinning in slow, lazy circles as he tries to snatch on to something as an anchor.

"Curse this dratted...!" he growls out. He makes a swipe for a strut and just misses, the movement causing him to rotate well out of reach. The Ascian utters a string of expletives in a foreign tongue - not his native language for once but Ancient Allag.

2. Gathering the Undead

Being a necromancer, Emet-Selch inexplicably finds himself involved in the ritual to obtain ashes of the dead for the cauldron. Isolating one of the walking dead is the easy part; it's bringing them back that's difficult.

Those on the road to the Land of Rot will see an amusing sight: a robed man in a mask arguing with a skeleton.

"Do you want me to take you apart? No? Then I suggest you keep walking!" the man says irritably. He steps back smartly as the skeleton makes a swipe at him then jabs his finger in its blank face.

"I command you. Now, keep walking. I would rather not carry your foetid bones in a sack."

And to think that he could freely command the souls and spirits of the dead in his home world... Why must they be so disobedient here?

3. Secret Ascian Man (🗡️ if engaging at night)

The robed man is back. In fact Emet-Selch has taken to wearing his old outfit on his excursions into the city. Though the garb garners a few stares, it's far more preferable to the open whispering and looks of judgement. Neither his crime nor his face will not soon be forgotten.

Perhaps you spot him in the middle of the day buying groceries. Or perhaps you run across him at night, sitting on a bench staring forlornly at the stars. It's during the latter that another masked man swaggers up and brandishes a sword at Emet-Selch.

"Hearken, fiend! Your time is at an end!"

There is a moment where he seems to not have heard. Then his head slowly lolls to the side and he stares at the vagabond. Sighs.

"I'm not in the mood," he tells them, returning his gaze to the night sky. The vagrant seems miffed and moves forward to thrust the tip of their sword near his face. Before they can speak again, Emet-Selch stiffens and growls.

"I said, I'm not in the mood."

(As ever, if you have an idea you want to run by me, please feel free to PM this account or drop a comment on the CR meme.)

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"Emet-Selch." He lands...clumsily. Like a deflated balloon, vestiges of the odd floating sensation have not disappeared entirely. He tries to to take a few wobbly steps forward but it's like walking on reduced gravity. At least he manages to reach his jar and take it out of the air.

"'Somnus'..." That name would not be out of place amongst the Garlean people. Since he doesn't trust his inconsistent ability to move, he nods to the other man. "I will remember this favour."

With the task finished, they needn't spend more time within the cavern-- at least, Somnus won't. He takes a step away, his shoulder pointing towards the man, where he pauses to give a brief nod of acknowledgement.

"Think nothing of it. These fairy-coins are used to provide safe passage for the dead across Avalon from the equinox."

So the Traders say. In any case, it seems he believes it to be worthwhile to mind them for such a reason.

"When I tested it, the potion took a few seconds to complete its effect. Certainly not instantaneous, but I imagine it would be quick enough to be disorienting. Be careful what you pour it on. I've not yet figured out why it works the way it does but I suspect it has to do with intent."

Aka. Don't let yourself get distracted or everything it touches will shrink indiscriminately.

"So I hear. I wished to see them myself for that very reason and this request gave me the excuse I needed to come."

He rubs absently at his eyes again. They still glimmer with the coin trapped behind their surface. It is...not uncomfortable. But it's unnerving.

"If I need more, perhaps I shall call on you again," he remarks, shaking the jar slightly with a faint smile. They're probably busy. He doesn't expect to run into them again whilst he's here.

"The entire plan is to pour it on my head without getting so much as a drop on my collar. If I need to, I'll get a funnel." Just to make sure it lands mostly in his hair. He can even go half and half on his head and on his chest just to make sure that he can shrink his body too. Now he's idly wondering and worrying and nervous about the possibility of just his head shrinking.

Gokudera closes his eyes and tries to imagine how it should go.

He gazes at the boy for a few moments. Then rolls his eyes and huffs through his nose.

"You're thinking it might shrink only one part of your body, aren't you? I assure you it isn't that fussy. Don't overthink these things, boy."

“N-no! Every part of me except the collar!”

Gokudera shakes his head. He’s not the smartest but he isn’t tripping himself up that much!

"Bloody good job you were doing of it." She remarks, her expression visibly displeased. She's turning to follow his gaze, wondering what he can see in this city-sky, when-

Oh.

Her ears droop, and she folds her arms, glancing away for a moment.

"You weren't yourself." She finally says, unable to really hold her anger after all that time. "Doesn't mean I forgive what happened. You hurt me."

It's clear she isn't referring to just the physical aspect of it, but after that- she turns and sighs.

"... why didn't you come check on me? I waited after I came to. Hoping you'd at least make the attempt."

A small huff in amusement. "Well, you have your potion. All that's left is to arrange precautions. I do hope for your sake it does not go awry, but if it does...well, failure is a quicker teacher than success."

He smiles.

"There won't be much to learn if I'm dead."

Gokudera doesn't even sound upset. He's honestly surprised his head is still on his shoulders and the pet ring has been on him for so long!

His brow furrows. "Did I not send you a message after I was released...? I must have forgotten."

He sighs, closing his eyes. He slowly topples sideways and stretches out along the bench, legs dangling off the side because he is too tall to comfortably fit.

"I apologise. I was-- I am still tired. I have to care for an old man, keep my business afloat, tend to Hythlodaeus..."

And resist the urge to dwell on what is all the point of this.

"There will be for me."

He says that with perhaps more amusement than should be on display. He starts making shooing motions at the boy with one hand.

"Go on, then. Go seek out your other help."

She's about to make a remark about him finding her so easy to forget, as she does in her humorous way to make people laugh or groan, but at the moment, it's difficult to. With what happened, and knowing- realistically, that if he could have avoided it, he would have, her own feelings are in conflict.

She hopes, anyway.

But she listens- it doesn't make it hurt any less, that she was such an afterthought, but at the same time, she can't even contest it. Doesn't she lose time to looking after her loved ones as well?

As he lays down, she folds her arms and looks aside, quiet for a bit, before shaking her head.

"The only reason I'm even considering forgiving you is because of all we've been through already." She states, honestly. "... when you were Solus, you were still a distant entity, fearsome, yet still avoidable in history. As the Sorcerer of Eld- still someone far beyond what I could comprehend. But this..."

She looks at him, sighing.

"This time, you really frightened me, Hades. Because you were so very real. And so close."

And that's what made him so much more frightening. She looks sidelong at him, expression concerned.

"... Do you want to talk about it? Or has that happened enough to exhaust you already?"

She doesn't want to beat a dead horse, but she also didn't want to lie to him about her own feelings.

"Wonderful."

He's concerned, especially because this all feels like a huge personal risk and Emet is going to enjoy it. Gokudera doesn't know how to feel, so he's just stuck feeling concerned and will probably worry a lot more later on his own. Is he going to die?

Should he die?

How is he even benefiting anyone by being alive?

Gokudera gives a sigh and turns to leave, then raises a hand in a short wave.

"Yeah. See ya."

His mouth turns down at the corners. His jaw clenches.

"I am quite done talking about it," he mutters. "I have been...berated and scolded enough. If you are expecting me to feel guilt about the deaths, I tell you now that I do not."

Curling up a little against the cold, he continues, "Go ahead and hate me for it. I would prefer that you do."

No-one as yet has truly been angry with him and he struggles to understand where that forgiveness comes from. He can attribute Hythlodaeus' care to the bias of love, but the condemnation he seeks from others is utterly lacking. He can see his own flaws clear as day - why can't anyone else?

Her own fists clench a bit to her sides, reminded again, that this man was responsible for countless deaths across the ages with his brethren. Even if it's beyond her understanding, the implications of the rejoinings are not.

She never forgot, but she imagines now, now that he's done them out of a selfish anger, it makes it even more clear how far he's fallen from his own thoughts of paradise.

The very things he saw to hate in the rest of the sundered. She shakes her head, as she carefully moves to sit on the ground in front of the bench he's on, grimacing from the pain in her body, and with her back to him, she looks in front of herself.

"I would, but I think you hate yourself enough. Even if not for the lives you claimed, but for everything around it." She states bluntly. She's quiet for a bit, before looking at him over her shoulder.

"I can't forgive you or love you for the lives you've taken, but I can't hate you as a person, having known you as I have. Even if it would be wiser to step away, be angry enough to have you lose a friend. Believe me, I was tempted, and I do hate what you did." A sharp look in his direction, before she turns around and moves her arms over the side of the bench.

"But if we didn't have forgiveness, we wouldn't know most of the people we have in our lives." She reaches up and pokes his nose with her finger from where she's seated. "So stop acting like you're supposed to be some exemplary paragon of perfection. You've always been flawed. But you're not evil, Hades.

If you were, I wouldn't have come back."

She lets those words sink in, before sitting sideways now- parallel to where he's resting his head so he can turn and look at her if he wants.

"... and I missed you. More than I imagine you've missed me." She adds, ear flicking with a wry smile at him.

"Until then."

His head dips in what may constitute as an acknowledgment that he's open to working together in the future. But for now, their little fairy coin assignment is over, and Emet-Selch's glowing eyes are his issue with which to contend.

Somnus departs.

He pushes her hand away from his nose. She isn't high on his list of acquaintances, it's true. She has no direct stake in the ages-long conflict between Ascian and mortal man, and her soul isn't one he knows from ancient times. He wouldn't miss her if she disappeared (though he would notice; she has left enough of an impression for that much).

"It would be easier if I was 'evil'."

He thinks about it sometimes, how it would be easier to give in to his worst impulses. Evil people, he's sure, don't agonise over their existence.

"If things were that easy, we wouldn't be thrown into different worlds, over and over, would we?" She remarks, resting her cheek against her arm on the side of the bench. It still hurts to move too much, so she's just resting herself until she feels better enough to stand.

"By the way... Do you remember, back when we fought a specter of myself? One who you called The Warrior of Light?"

It was far, far back, in that cursed City.

"One of yours... Solus', rather, just arrived recently here in Avalon. Gaius Baelsar. Apparently, he'd known me. As a Warrior of Light. Can you believe it?"

For something as surprising as that, she just feels a little numb when telling Emet-Selch this.

"... have you been able to speak to him at all?"

"I spoke with him briefly," he says shortly. "He was not pleased to see me. I can but hope he doesn't intend to slay me somewhere and add to his macabre collection of my brethren's masks."

A small measure of resentment burns in his breast over it.

"Given that several Warriors of Light can exist at once, 'tis hardly surprising to learn you were one yourself in another world."

"I saw those... he told me about what he was doing. Think he might have been a bit shocked when I didn't seem to be as pleased about it, either. Doubt he'll be causing trouble here, and I'll make sure he won't if he tries."

Not that she agreed with any of the Ascians' actions, besides the understanding as to why. But it's not even her argument to have.

The only reason she even knows is through Emet-Selch, and the Warriors of Light she's encountered, after all. At his words, her ears droop and she huffs lightly.

"... It's just strange, is all. Knowing some version of me went through the tales I was told by the other Warriors." That they could have been a part of the friend you miss so much. She doesn't voice that bit, but she sighs.

"Suppose there's no point in worrying about what isn't true for me, anyroad. We've met without any of that..." She looks aside, then. "I just don't want to be held to any sort of expectation I can't fulfill."

She's not a Warrior of Light here, after all. She doesn't want to be seen as someone who could remotely accomplish what they have- she has her own path and is happy to walk it. Not that she doubts she could do things beyond her limits- but-

"... but what I do know, is that I care for you. I can't answer why beyond what we've already done. And I wish you'd rely on me a little more if you feel that clouded."

Just putting that out there.

Edited 2021-10-28 19:43 (UTC)

"As a mortal, you wouldn't understand half of what plagues me," he says irritably. "Do you know what it is like to watch the centuries turn? To see the rise and fall of empires whose deeds are miswritten by scholars of future eras? To love someone knowing they will die in the blink of an eye?"

He pushes himself upright, an ugly, irrational anger writhing in his gut. He's glad for the mask on his face now, hiding half of his expression. "I am tired of being told I am in the wrong," he hisses through his teeth. "It has nothing to do with whether or not you are the Warrior of Light. None of your are the least bit capable of understanding what I want or need. You barely scratch the surface of it. I don't want your trite platitudes or your gestures of concern. I--"

What does he want from them though?

He falls into a frustrated silence, hand balling into a fist in his lap.

"Did I say I could understand the way you've experienced? I'm here to listen. I can empathize, perhaps, but I obviously won't know what you went through."

She stays where she is, because sudden movements are bad for her body right now, and she moves her arm over her knee.

"... it's like you're afraid of allowing yourself any forgiveness. Aren't all these years of anger and sadness enough punishment?" Her voice grows softer. "I've never seen anyone with so much love in their heart treat themselves this cruelly. If you wanted to hurt anyone, that's all you needed. Just keep being in pain and anger while others around you who care for you struggle to know how to help, knowing they can't."

It's pointed, and she turns to look over at him.

"What do you want, Hades? Do you want us to abandon someone we care for? You clearly haven't been able to, then why do you expect it from us?"

"I want to go home."

In the end, this is what it's about, isn't it? It's why he has thrown himself so readily into Zodiark's service (compulsion aside), why he has run himself ragged over so many centuries into millennia to bring back his people, his world: he wants to go home.

"All of you have your place but I have none." His fingers dig into the underside of the bench, knuckles turning white. "I want friends and loved ones who won't die within the turn of a century. I want a place that won't be endlessly uprooted by one of your selfish wars. I want stability - but I won't get that in Hydaelyn's fractured mockery of our star."

She's quiet, feeling the pain from his words. It's not something she can give- not something any of them can give. And right now, he can't even be told that he's wrong. Even if it's such a futile wish, holding onto something that may just never come to be.

She wishes he'd find home in who he loves. In the present. Is that even possible for someone who has carried so much pain for a millennia?

So she simply listens, and for once, she has nothing to say, no advice or words, because they've been through this over and over. After some time, she reaches out and touches one of his hands to the sides the bench, fully expecting him to pull away, but maybe, just maybe, he'll keep it there.

Because all she can say in that moment is through that simple touch. She knows. She's sorry he can't go home. She's sorry he hasn't found any home in the present.

"... Stay here for a while with me?"

It's not an answer, but she doubts she can give him one, anyway.

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September open log

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so sorry for the wait

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always worth the wait ♥

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