#but he refuses to answer. anyway its emet

[abimee]

also the main gist is that the three soulbonded meet a small group of researchers at the base of a tower they call the crystal tower and are trying to research it, when the group say that a mysterious magician named amon cursed them to share souls a researcher name graha claims that it would be impossible for that to have been the True amon, as he had died in the end of the allag empire centuries ago, but cant put it out of the question that Someone claiming to be amon has cursed them. The group say they had tried stopping amon who was chasing a girl, who is found by the encampment later bearing uncanny resemblance to the palmira doll, Minfillia. She claims her name is Ryne and she has no recollection of events beyond being chased by a strange magician who offered to help her, and has no clue where she came from. The group decide that the only way to figure out for sure what is going on, and who this mysterious so-called Amon is, is to go into the crystal tower and search for the magician himself, which leads down a winding path of mystery and discovery that nobody is prepared for

[azems-familiar]

....perhaps i shall post part of the hythlodaeus angst

There’s a faint ripple in the aether, a whisper of a breeze, and a terrifyingly-familiar voice murmurs, “...am I dreaming, seeing you here like this, Seleukos?”

The sound of their name - the name they have hardly heard in lifetimes, the name they’d all-but left behind in the aftermath of the Sundering - pierces through them with just as much if not more sharpness than the Light itself, and they stiffen, breath catching in their throat. They don’t dare to move, don’t dare to open their eyes, caught in place as surely as if they themself have been shackled by Hydaelyn’s spell. This- this has to be a trap, a lure to draw them in, because he- he’s gone, he went to Zodiark, there’s no restoring him until they restore the star itself-

They open their eyes anyway.

A shade flickers in and out of view in front of them, drifting black robes, the suggestion of an ivory mask and a pale purple braid. The clearest thing about it is its eyes, vivid amethyst and staring at them with some soft mix of sorrow and pain and confusion. It can’t be real. They refuse to search the aether to look.

“Ah,” they say instead, quietly, the familiar old ice creeping over them as the shock starts to fade, the dullness of it slipping into their voice. They cannot- this cannot be real. He cannot be. They don’t want him to see. He’s gone, he left them and broke his vow for some abstract sense of a duty he has never had to carry. “I’ve lost touch with reality again. How reassuring.”

There’s almost a clarity to the way the world looks, when they retreat from it. Everything is hazy, but in stepping away from themself they can see their own actions with an awareness they wouldn’t usually have, an awareness detached from the endless swelling ache in their chest that never goes away. Emet-Selch doesn’t speak to them, when he recognizes the distance in their eyes, not unless he’s worried they’ve gone too far to come back; instead he likes to sit with them, if he can, a quiet presence to tether them to something, a line they can grasp onto when they need to be real again. (It’s different if they’ve gone away so much they no longer quite remember when they are, past and present mixing together. But they don’t like to think about those times.)

“Oh, love,” Hythlodaeus says too-softly, the grief in his eyes more pronounced, and they wonder absently what he sees with his ever-sharp gaze. Not that- this is real, not that he’s really seeing anything, not that he’s there - but of course any image of him they would conjure would have his sight. “What has been done to you?”

They swallow hard and look away from his face - maybe his features are so vague because their memories are too, time and exhaustion marring the lines of his face in their memory until he and Helios are nothing but purple and black, silver and white, seen and heard clearly only in dreams and the crystal they have not been able to bring themself to use in a very long time. How exactly did their laughter sound? How did Hythlodaeus’s face change when he smiled? They only remember that it was warm and bright and loving and that it filled them brim-full with a joy that was stripped from the star with its Sundering.

“I came to see Him,” they say instead of answering, gaze landing on Zodiark’s prison again, tracing the barrier of Light and blades that spins eternally through the air around Him. “I don’t quite know why. Duty, perhaps…I should have told Emet-Selch. He’ll worry.”

If they’re imagining Hythlodaeus, he would be right to worry, they know. Their clarity might fade, and this close to Hydaelyn’s magic, they cannot afford to be anything less than fully aware. They are of the Unsundered. Sane or not, their loss would be a great setback to the Convocation’s plans, to the Ascians’ plans, and they are unsure how Emet-Selch would take it.

They ought to leave now, before this spirals further. They can’t quite make themself.

For a moment Hythlodaeus is quiet, and they begin to wonder if he’s proven his non-existence by disappearing, but then they hear his voice again. “I will have faith that you will heal from this,” he breathes out, and it sounds almost like he’s trying to convince himself of something. “I must. You must.”

“Heal,” Azem echoes, slowly lifting their gloved hands to look down at them. All other details have faded over time, but they still remember what their skin looked like when it was covered in Helios’s blood. What healing could there be from that loss? From Amaurot’s loss? They can only hope they will still recognize their best friend when he finally returns to them. “...I don’t know. But we will fix what She did to the star, Hythlodaeus, no matter how many thousands of years it takes. Four shards Rejoined, nine left - and then…then we will free Zodiark and restore Amaurot. I will- I will not abandon them again.” They let out a shaky breath, close their eyes again, and - and he isn’t real, so they can whisper this into the wind: “And maybe I’ll get to see you again.”

They hope they will recognize Helios, when Etheirys is whole and he can come back. They hope Hythlodaeus will recognize them, when they bring him back to life.

Something, a twist of the wind maybe, a gentle breeze, brushes over their bare cheek and vanishes again, leaving behind a trace of aether too faint to identify. Hydaelyn’s Watcher, perhaps, sensing their presence and marking them, or just the currents from the distant prison - there’s something almost familiar about it. Perhaps it came from Zodiark; perhaps He senses one of His servants.

“I know you’ll find the best way, dearest Azem,” Hythlodaeus says, his voice warm and heavy with his sincerity, the same as it always was, because he has always, always- “I have faith.”

He has always had faith.

“Faith didn’t save us,” they whisper, but there’s no response, no sound besides their own breath and their own stolen heartbeat, a silence that weighs down on them with all the heaviness of absence. “...Hythlodaeus?”

They open their eyes to the craggy, pocked surface of the moon, the distant thrum of Hydaelyn’s magic, Zodiark’s chained form, and emptiness. The barely-there shade they’d seen before is gone, not a wisp of essence remaining for them to trace if it was ever even there, and despite the way they’ve withdrawn some cold horror grips their chest. He wasn’t real, they remind themself, he wasn’t real, Emet-Selch would say the same, he wasn’t real-

“Come back,” they say anyway, plaintive and small, and wrap their arms around themself, huddling into their robes. They should never have left the rift, should never have come here. “Please,” they whisper. “You promised.”

Hythlodaeus doesn’t answer, because he was never there to begin with.

For too long they just- stand there in the emptiness, shuddering and trying not to crumple, hands gripping their sleeves as though they could hold themself together - as if they’ve ever been capable of that. The ice is cracking, cracking, and it hurts-

They want to go home. 

(Home does not exist. Home is dead and gone and buried beneath the rock and the ocean. Home is an Unsundered star and the people they love unburdened by loss and a sky on fire. Home is Helios’s laughter, and Hythlodaeus’s arms around them, and Hades scoffing and rolling his eyes like it could hide his smile. Home is warmth and love and a brilliance that does not hurt when it shines over them.

Home is untouchable, only in their memories, that faded perfection they cannot return to. They do not know if it will fit them anymore, when they finally bring it back.)

[heartsaligned]

      Exhaustion swept over him. Whether it was born from the events of the day or something far deeper, he did not know, but regardless of sleep's sweet call, Hythlodaeus refused to answer it. His mind was still abuzz, refusing to turn off while he sat there alone, waiting for Emet-Selch to come back to him, his thoughts ranging from triflingly mundane to absolutely soul-shattering, should he let them truly get through the walls he had been forced to build up. But there was no time to think about the last twelve thousand years, just yet. There was scarcely time to think about himself, whole and alive, a new body created from--what? Aether and memories of the past? Something more complex? Was this even his body, or a form borrowed?

      What did it all mean?

      Feeling anxious, Hythlodaeus rubbed at his own arms to try and settle himself down, soothe the thoughts that raced through his tired mind. Had he wanted to go into the Lifestream, the option was there, and Emet-Selch would have followed him, he was certain of that. But neither had lived the lives they had imagined. One had been left behind to suffer unimaginable loss and solitude, fighting and failing. Another had been trapped in darkness, wrapped up in painful chains that siphoned away such basic knowledge as names and identity. It felt almost criminal not to take the second chance offered to them.

      It also felt wrong.

      The first few sights Hythlodaeus had of the Source was pain overflowing, the skies turning a familiar haunting red, fire raining down amongst screaming and crying citizens of Radz-at-Han. The entire realm was aflame, the stench of death rising, blood running thick along the avenues of the city and its surrounding outposts. As much as the memory of Amaurot burning terrified him, Hythlodaeus refused to run. He had faced death with all the bravery he could once before, and he would not allow others to do the same. If they could save someone, anyone, it would be worth it.

      A heavy sigh passed Hythlodaeus' lips as he sat in silence, recalling the recent events--trying to save the child, the decision to split up after bullying Emet-Selch into rendering aid at Vanaspati, nearly dying again. Forestalling the Final Days, but well aware that they were not lucky enough to escape. Unless they stopped it at the root, the star would be swallowed up. They could not allow this to happen.

      At times like this, Hythlodaeus was reminded just how useless he really was in a crisis. His eyes could see what others could not, yet he saw no way to offer such assistance. Beyond that, he felt more like a liability than anything else, and as he sat there, alone in that room, he started to feel incredibly out of place. Emotions had never been a strong suit of his, unfortunately. Emet-Selch had been his greatest priority, with their dear friend Azem following close behind, and Hythlodaeus had never allowed himself to be truly honest with the way he felt. He buried so much that he seemed to have found a way to ignore his own pain, to put everything he had into helping in anyway he can. At least in Amaurot he had a position that leant to his strengths, and plenty of others to assist in times of need. Now, however, he wondered if he was even able to do anything, and a nagging voice at the back of his mind began to question if Emet-Selch even needed him around.

      He's not even here. He said he would be back soon, and yet--

      No. He couldn't start to think like this. He didn't want to. But the fact remained that Emet-Selch was still gone, and Hythlodaeus could no longer bear waiting there on his own. Sighing once again, he climbed to his feet and slipped out of the room, wandering down the corridor in hopes of spotting Emet-Selch on his way back. No such sight. What he heard, however, gave him pause.

      A door lay ajar nearby, and Emet-Selch's voice filtered out of it, drawing Hythlodaeus closer like a moth to a flame. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop; he simply found himself unable to resist, curiosity and his need to find the other so great that it was as if invisible strings pulled him forward. Mention of the Final Days, a plea for help, for the knowledge to stop it, to end the death and suffering that had begun to fall upon people of the Source.

      And then anger. Pain indescribable breaking in Emet-Selch's voice. The sudden outburst actually startled Hythlodaeus into stepping back as though struck by it, his heart stalling in his chest for one terrible moment. His breath seized as though his entire body had been caught up in some sort of vice, slowly but surely squeezing him until it physically hurt, and the full understanding of what had happened after his death, his sacrifice, fully struck him: Emet-Selch had gone after him.

      He had just gone too late.

      The sudden thought that he needed to leave flittered through the haze of his thoughts like an alarm, but Hythlodaeus was rooted to the spot, struggling to imagine what Emet-Selch truly must have gone through. The last time they spoke had meant to be the final time Emet-Selch saw him, to part ways with a memory of a smile and a carefree wave, to be given that vain hope that one day things would once again be all right. He was never meant to see past that shimmering veil, to see the death and destruction that lay just beyond it.

      Most unfortunately, Hythlodaeus was unable to pull himself out of his own spiral in time, gasping softly in surprise as the door suddenly opened, allowing him to come face-to-face with Emet-Selch. Words failed him, even the most primitive of apologies lost as he struggled for something to say. Guilt ate away at him for deigning to eavesdrop, to listen in on what had become an incredibly private conversation. Where did he even begin...?

      "Hades..."

      His voice was soft, barely even above a gentle whisper and filled with an emotion he could not name. Something painful and all powerful, mingling together and surging forth past the protective walls. Something that sought to break his heart all over again.

@heartsaligned

      The blazing sky above Thavnair, one that rained familiar fire as the ground below quaked with despair, had tapered off to a dark and somber evening. Emet-Selch had gotten what he'd wanted, deals be damned. It was nary a second thought to take Hythlodaeus and warp them elsewhere, somewhere where the Final Days had yet to reach. But such a decision had not been made to pass. Instead, they remained, and Emet-Selch lent his aid to fend off the malformed beasts with the Warrior of Light and their party. The dragon, Vrtra, refused to help. Claiming how he could not hurt his children. Emet-Selch's ire burned at the inconceivable notion. Whatever was once there no longer had semblance of humanity. They were no more than monsters bent on destruction.

      Such an event was never to come to pass again. However, without Zodiark to maintain the balance against Hydaelyn's light, that equilibrium went out of control. The scales tipped now in the favor of light, and the inevitable had come.

      Just as Amaurot had during the Final Days, Thavnair burned, her cities buckled, and the waters ran red with blood. He warned the Warrior of Light, his intense gaze narrowed and searing back at her own. This would be FAR from the worst of it. Vanaspita was a drop in the bucket by comparison. The memory of Amaurot during its finest hour should have been enough to show the horrors that loomed ahead.

      These people of a sundered world would never sacrifice half their remaining lives to offer sanctuary to those who could remain and rebuild; never mind that they may have to do it again after the lands withered and the waters dried up. Hydaelyn grew weary and weaker as it were. Even Zodiark was a shell of his former glory beneath the strain.

      He knew why he was brought back into the fray. No matter where the Warrior of Light went for answers to stop the Final Days, she never obtained the answers she was seeking. Be it the moon with the Watcher and his documented library on the subjects of era's long past. All the way to 12,000 years in the past with Hermes and his pet project. She may have understood how the end came about, the cause of a flawed inquiry, but it did not tell her how to prevent it. Venat would allow her champion to figure out the answer for herself, believing to the highest of esteems before sending them back to the present. And thus it fell to Emet-Selch to be their problem solver instead of making new ones.

      The risk of freeing him from the shard of white auracite was a great one. He'd tried to kill them all once before and the memories of his trial still weighed heavily on each of their minds. They'd offered into a bargain for his cooperation. Bring Hythlodaeus back, and he would tell them all he knew. It was all he wanted. It was all he'd EVER wanted. How readily he was to abandon their deal the first chance he'd gotten.

      In the end, he could offer no further explanations than what the Warrior of Light already knew. Killing their precious goddess, Hydaelyn, and making her return to the star would be one solution to forestalling the out of aligned balance. It was an answer he kept to himself for the time being. The other resolution was finding Meteion at the edge of the universe and slaying her. Getting to her was the problem, however. No ship could take them far enough to arrive at her Nest.

      They continued their back and forth. Similar to the way he'd argue with Azem. The Warrior of Light wouldn't back down so long as there was spark of hope things might work out. Defeating Meteion was the answer to their problems. He knew the Warrior of Light was right. But claiming how they'd lost so many lives all ready because of the entelechy, like the number could even COMPARE to the amount Emet-Selch had.

      Frustration wore between his brow, the lines of this new body deepening the more they debated. ❝You didn't have to pull your lover's body out of a mass grave!❞ The words were out before he could stop them. Hand outstretched and index finger pointing accusingly. The sacrifice had failed. None of their fallen had returned to the living after Zodiark was formed. ❝You could not hope to fathom the amount I have lost, nor what I have been made to sacrifice.❞

      Emet-Selch had gone to where the first sacrifice had been made. He went down into the pit of dark robed bodies, digging through each one and pulling them aside. His hands had grown black with soot, the scent of burning flesh and death heavy in the air around him. But still he dug, deeper and deeper. His breast began to flourish with the vigor Hythlodaeus had changed his mind. But the emotion had been fleeting as he pulled aside the body on top of his and saw the familiar strands of lavender hair peeking out from beneath a dark cowl. His body was frozen, burnt, and his mask had broken with flecks of blood stained over its smooth finish. He remembered sitting there, holding Hythlodaeus' body as tightly as he could and crying out in guttural pain.

      His heart shattered.

      He cried until he felt he would drown in his sorrow. And when he did not, he eventually moved from the site of death. He'd buried Hythlodaeus and the babe cradled in his arms not far from one another. Cremation didn't feel right. Not with how badly his body had already been made to suffer in fire. Emet-Selch tended to that small grave even in his recreated version of Amaurot. He'd used his magic to create a small field of his favorite flowers: white and pink and purple hyacinths. He'd placed crowns of woven flowers atop the stone. A thing he'd considered foolish in the past, refusing to wear them himself or even attempt making. They'd been poor, the stems breaking or coming loose, but he knew Hythlodaeus would appreciated his effort and tease him for it.

      He couldn't continue this farce. The Warrior of Light shocked into silence at his sudden outburst. She'd probably say something uplifting about how their future doesn't have to be the same once she recovered, but he wasn't going to wait around to placate.

[lizzy-frizzle]

Bragging Rights

Lizzy and Sadu discuss recent events

(There’s one instance of implied transphobia)

Sadu and Lizzy sits at the dining table eating a meal, as normal. Lizzy shifts her eyes away from Sadu anytime she tries to look at her.

“You’re hiding something.” Sadu says accusingly. She squints her eyes, and stops chewing mid bite.

Lizzy retorts, “Nuh-uh! I...Just….Ok, so, promise not to be mad.”

Sadu’s eyes narrow further. She chomps down hard on the animal’s cooked leg, nearly biting through bone.

Lizzy sighs, “So, you know how you told me to not fight any more inter-dimensional immortal beings? Especially if it could kill me?”

Sadu slowly puts the food down, and slowly responds, “...Yes...”

“Well, I kinda...” Lizzy pauses as she senses the aether gathering around Sadu, “I’m fine now! It’s ok! Nothing bad happened!” “Elizabeth.” Sadu starts, “What did you fight?”

“I may have fought another ascian.” Lizzy admits, looking downcast at her plate, “He may have tried to send me to an eternal gaol of darkness.”

Sadu starts to reach for her staff.

“But I got out! I’m here anyway.” Sadu remains unchanged, “Anyway, I mention this because I learned something about myself.”

Sadu tilts her head, shoulders relaxing slightly, “Go on.”

“So, I told you about Emet-Selch, the convocation, right?” Lizzy continues, “I was one of them. Apparently, I was the Shepherd to the stars, uh, named ‘Azem’, an-” “Azim?! Like the God that Magnai believes himself to be?” Sadu stands up hurriedly, “NO WAY. I HAVE TO RUB IT IN HIS FACE THAT NOT ONLY IS HE NOT, BUT THAT I MARRIED THE REAL REINCARNATION OF HER.”

Sadu rushes out the door, muttering about the Dusk Mother not liking men. Lizzy follows her, eventually catching up and offers to fly her there.

“You’re pregnant Sadu, please try to take it easy.” Lizzy gently reminds her.

Sadu’s hand instinctively reaches for her child, “I know, but I HAVE to do this to HIM.” she pauses, “I will allow you to fly me there.”

Lizzy allows her wife to do this slight on her mortal enemy.

~~The Dawn Throne~~

It’s late into the afternoon when they arrive.

Lizzy attempts to dissuade her wife again, “You know I said ‘Az-em’ not ‘Az-im’ right?”

Sadu waves off the clarification, “You would have me believe that The Dawn Father, the representation of the Sun, named Azim, and this Azem, a traveler and shepherd to the stars, are different people?” she continues, “One could argue that the Sun does indeed shepherd the stars, and travels across the sky.” she punctuates this thought with shaking her head, “No, I believe these two people are one in the same, and that the Dawn Father is actually the Dawn mother.”

She laughs, “At any rate, it’s better.”

Her confidence astounds everyone at the Dawn Throne as Sadu Dotharl marches straight up to Magnai on his throne.

The large auri man rolls his eyes at the intrusion, and begins, “You taunt my grace wi-” “-I CARE NOT!” Sadu shouts, “Khagan, tell this False Little Sun the truth!”

The room grows dead silent in the wake of the announcement. The Oronir waiting for Magnai’s reaction.

[Oh jeez, she must be serious if she’s invoking my official title.] Lizzy squirms under the intense scrutiny.

Sadu gestures to Lizzy, forcing Lizzy to announce to all of these warriors something she would really rather not say, “A-As per Dotharl believe in the soul inhabiting life after life,” Lizzy tries her best Leader Voice, which is to say, not all that intimidating, “And through recent events involving preventing a calamity. It has been revealed that the soul that lies in me is none other than Azem, the Traveler and Shepherd to the Stars.”

Some light murmurs occur among the Oronir. Lizzy decides to put her hands on her hips, partially to remind everyone of her daggers, another in preparation to defend her and her wife if the worst happens.

Magnai stands up, angry, “Do the Dotharl then claim that not only am I not the Dawn Father incarnate, but also that this...this OUTSIDER is? And that SHE is HE?”

Sadu interprets the statement differently than Magnai probably intended, and immediately begins casting a fire related spell, “EXCUSE. ME?!”

Her temper flared, with a spell to match, explodes next to Magnai, causing everyone to draw their weapons. Lizzy included.

“Calm down, Sadu,” Lizzy calls out, “I’M SURE HE DIDN’T MEAN IT.” she loudly hints to Magnai.

But Sadu is already in the middle of casting another spell.

Magnai puts his axe away, and starts, in a calm manner, “I did not mean to imply any disrespect.”

Sadu launches the spell. Lizzy uses shukuchi to position herself in front of her and blocks the hit with a dagger. She looks into Sadu’s eyes, seething rage swirling inside.

“Sadu...” Lizzy tries again.

Sadu’s eyes flicker for a moment, then her brow furrows again, “Tell. HER. You. Are. Sorry.” Lizzy senses aether swirling around her staff, “Or. I. Will. Make. You. Sorry.”

Magnai must sense it too, cause he immediately puts his hand in the air, “Enough. You’ll have your way Dotharl. Khagan, I’m sorry.”

Sadu calms down. Not a lot, but she’s not going to kill anyone at this point. She puts her staff back, and everyone relaxes slightly, “Anyway. It’s important for you to know. The REAL Azim got me pregnant.”

The shock on Magnai’s face is no doubt what Sadu came here for. However Lizzy feels her face become flushed, “SADU. WHY?”

Mortified, Lizzy begs the gods above to end this day.

Magnai sits on his throne, too shocked to respond.

Sadu grins wickedly, and begins laughing, “How does it feel Little Sun?!”

Lizzy pleads with Sadu in her mind, [Sadu...please...I’m dying...stop]

With Lizzy as red as a tomato, she picks up Sadu, and walks out of the throne chamber. Sadu not sparing a chance to make a taunting face at Magnai as she gets carried out.

~~In the sky above the steppe~~ “You didn’t HAVE to do that.” Lizzy says sternly.

Sadu’s smile refuses to leave her face, “But did you SEE his face?? I wouldn’t trade the world to be able to do that again!”

Lizzy shakes her head.

Sadu continues, “Anyway, I love seeing how flustered you get too, so it was a 2-for-1.” she wraps her arms tightly around Lizzy’s stomach, and nuzzles her head into her back. She can’t see, but she knows this flusters her further.

“A-ah, Anyway!” Lizzy fumbles her words through the surprise hug, “We should tell Meeps about the pregnancy.”

Sadu picks her head up, “The miqo’te that was at our wedding?”

“Yes, She’s...probably not doing too hot I imagine. She could use some good news.” Lizzy frowns, “When I saw her, figured it wasn’t the BEST time to bring it up.”

Sadu rests her head back on her wife’s back, “Alright, Operation Cheer Up Meeps-y”

~~Meeps’ House~~

Lizzy knocked twice, and waited. Sadu shifts anxiously behind her.

“Are...you nervous?” Lizzy asks.

Sadu nods, “I’m a bit far from what I consider home, meeting one of your god-killing friends. Surely you can understand the apprehension.”

“It’s just unusual for you.” Lizzy responds, then she smiles, “is the pregnancy starting to affect you?”

Offended, Sadu lightly jabs Lizzy’s shoulder, “I’m the Mighty Khatun of the Dotharl. A little pregnancy won’t impact me!” her voice doesn’t sound quite as rock solid.

Lizzy just sighs, and holds Sadu’s hand, “It’s ok, hun.”

With her free hand, she knocks again.

Sadu takes a deep breath.

Asahi opens the door, “Hell-oh! Lizzy, and Sadu, welcome. Meeps...isn’t accepting compan-”

“Can I talk to her please?” Lizzy gives her best puppy dog eyes, “It’s super important, and I think it’ll cheer her up!”

Lizzy laces her words with her a chipperness that Sadu swears leaves her with a cavity.

Asahi stares at the couple. He shrugs, and sighs as he gestures for them to come in, “You can try.”

Lizzy let’s out a happy, “Thank you!” and walks inside, Sadu in tow.

He closes the door behind them, and points to the stairs, “She’s up in the bedroom, good luck...”

The two climb the stairs, and knock on the presumed bedroom door. Lizzy doesn’t wait for a response before opening it, however.

“Meeps?” Lizzy squeaks out.

The bedroom is dark, lit by a pair of candles on the bedside tables

The figure under the blankets remains silent.

Lizzy moves to the side of the bed, and sits down. She gestures for Sadu to do the same, “Hey, you know, Sadu is here with me.” She gives Sadu a look.

“Hey,” Sadu utters, feeling wholly uncomfortable with the situation.

Lizzy speaks again, “I’m sorry, I know it hurts. I don’t know what it’s like, or what you’re going through. But we’re here.”

Meeps doesn’t react.

Lizzy continues, “We have some really fantastic news.”

Instead of saying anything further, Lizzy gently lowers the covers from Meeps, and grabs her hand. The hand feels damp from endless tears. She moves the hand to Sadu’s stomach.

“What?” Meeps says, then her eyes widen, “O-OH!” She sits up and faces the couple.

Lizzy notices how red her eyes look. She lets a face of empathy reflect and tries to switch to a happy face, “Sadu’s pregnant,” she says with finality.

A weak smile spreads across her face, “That’s awesome.” she tries to muster. Her voice sounds more ragged this time, “Have you decided on a name?”

Sadu answers, “We don’t decide on a name until after they’re born.”

Meeps reflects on the information after a nod, “Ah, right, I forgot for a moment. I hope a brave warrior’s soul finds its way then.”

Sadu smiles back at her.

“Though, I did convince Sadu that if they’re a Raen, we’ll be naming her Alice.” Lizzy adds, “After my mom that adopted me.”

The sentiment makes Meeps tear up once more. Lizzy hugs her, rubbing her back in an effort to comfort her.

Meeps chokes back the tears, for a moment, “I think that’s a great name.”

Lizzy takes the moment, “Hey, I’m sure you haven’t eaten in a while.” she gets off the bed, “Why don’t we go downstairs, and have Asahi cook some dinner.”

Sadu chimes in, “Lizzy, it’s near midnight.”

Defensively, Lizzy responds, “So? Dinner is when you say it is, and I’m hungry.”

Meeps stays silent for a moment, then gets out of bed, “Ok, let’s go eat.”

“Thank you,” Lizzy says, “I know it’s hard.”

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #26 - “When Pigs Fly”

5.3 spoilers under the cut. 

AO3 Link HERE

==========================

"Now you're just having me on."

"Would I lie to you?" she purred, grinding into him until the motion left him breathless. Somehow he managed to find the wherewithal to grasp her rolling hips and still them, as much as he would have preferred otherwise. With one eye cracked open to make a study of her flushed and smiling face, he grumbled:

"Frequently, Azem. Frequently."

"All right, Emet-Selch," she retorted, thoroughly undaunted, hands wrapping about his wrists, "let me rephrase my question. Would I lie to you about anything of consequence?"

"You're saying this is inconsequential?"

"Very much so."

"It required a damage report to the Bureau of the Architect-"

"Then let's say that at this precise moment in time, I am far too inebriated - and full of a sense of accomplishment - to lie to you."

Hades blinked slowly up at his mate, into amused golden eyes framed with tawny lashes - a beam of living sunlight. Her smile was as infectious and as radiant as ever, and it was always an internal struggle to maintain a frown when it was focused upon him.

"Yes," he sighed, "but a flying pig? Really?"

"Just so."

"I have no words. ...Actually, scratch that. I have far too many words. Where do I even begin?" He squinted at her in the darkness. "...Why do we even have one of those concepts? What's the bloody point?"

"We have several of them, as it happens." Azem shrugged. "It's listed in the department logs for authorized concepts. You might check the archives for more information, but I saw the paperwork for myself. Anyway- this one was feral. And it was a very large specimen. Disturbingly large. And wild, somehow. Several of them were menacing a small-"

"Menacing?"

"You heard me. Yes. Feral flying pigs were menacing a small settlement well north of here. So that's why--"

"---you stole the pegasus and took it for a joyride."

"Yes," Azem said, in as calm and matter-of-fact a voice as if she'd just informed him she had made breakfast. "But really, 'steal' is such a strong and unpleasant word. I was going to return it once I was done. Less 'joyride,' more 'requisitioned mount for Convocation business.' I filled out all the forms."

"Right. And you think the others will see it that way."

"I do," she chirped cheerfully. "I've already run it by Elidibus. Perfectly in keeping with the rules and hardly worth mention, let alone censure."

"You brought Elidibus into this?"

"Only for clarification's sake. He wanted to come along but I told him it wouldn't be wise."

He gave her a judgmental squint -- he still wore his mask of office, but the sour twist of his lips alone made his opinion more than evident. "Azem, please stop trying to corrupt our Emissary. He gets involved enough just trying to cover for you with the others, and that's entirely too much involvement."

"Personally, I think a bit of harmless trouble would do Elidibus some good." Utterly unrepentant, she grinned at him and removed the striped scarlet mask, setting it upon the nightstand. He almost reached for it, but knew she'd distract him if he tried, and she would probably be successful. "That poor boy needs someone to teach him how to have fun. Goodness knows he wouldn't have any if left to his own devices."

Hades chose not to answer that.

"So," he said very carefully, "let me repeat all of this back to you. Just so I can make certain I have the facts in order, as I am reasonably certain from what you've said that this will be on the top of the agenda minutes tomorrow."

"Of course."

"In the course of your travels, you encountered a flying pig-"

"Pigs. Plural. Not just one. An entire horde of them. Thirty to fifty, at least."

"All right, all right. You encountered a horde of flying wild pigs which were, you claim, menacing a local settlement. Precisely- Tisiphone, please don't squirm. It feels delightful, but I am trying, nominally, to perform my duties - precisely what were they doing in the process of said 'menacing' that required the Shepherd's intervention?"

"What? Oh," she shrugged, "this particular settlement maintains very large and very high quality apple orchards. It's widely known for its cider and..."

Hades took a moment to count, silently, to ten. His stare was bland and knowing.

"Hythlodaeus suggested you take the pegasus with you, didn't he?"

"It wasn't... not Hythlodaeus."

"Tisiphone."

"Oh come now, Hades! If the Convocation hadn't intervened it would have left their entire harvest in ruins and they'd have had nothing to see them through the cold season, and it's not anywhere near as explosive as the grapes incident." At his answering scowl, she let out a short laugh. "Too soon?"

"Much too soon."

"All right, the one thing I might have done differently is to let Lahabrea know I borrowed the pegasus before I left. But I did bring it back to the Akadaemia in one piece. No harm, no foul." She paused, a brief frown knitting her brows. "Well... no harm, anyway. There was a great deal of foul- but a bit of pig, er, refuse isn't going to cause any harm. Just a great deal of stink."

Hades pinched the bridge of his nose.

"...I'm going to hear about this from the Speaker first thing, aren't I?"

"Most likely. But I'm willing to wager a peace offering of apple cider will make him marginally less irate and I field-tested his creation for him. If he has any sense, I think he should be pleased with the outcome- oh, Hades, don't be so cross with me. All's well that ends well, isn't it?"

"At this rate they're going to add 'Shepherd-minder' to Emet-Selch's official list of duties," he sighed, and her laughter was a bright chime that spilled into the room.

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Dragonfall (Amaurotine AU)

Persephone stared as fire rent the sky. She wanted to tell herself that she’d merely found a falling star, but something about the smoldering wound it left behind didn’t feel right. The helpless spark spiraled behind the mountains and vanished from sight, leaving her longing for it.

The Traveler scrubbed tiredly at her eyes and returned her mask to her face. It was late, and she should have been in bed by now, but some instinct had kept her in the observatory just a little longer. Was it to witness this?

It’s nothing. Sleep, she told herself.

She also refused.

Persephone gathered her robes and raced down the stairs, only to all but collide with Lahabrea the moment she reached the ground floor. The way his mouth hung open suggested he was just as wired as she was -- and not merely because he, like her, had a habit of not sleeping.

“You saw it?” he asked.

She nodded. “Any idea what it was?”

“No debris. No discharge. I think it might be organic.”

“What? What drew you to that conclusion?”

He held his hands out as he tried to find the words to explain. “Primarily the shape, but it also appeared to be in…almost a controlled fall. I don’t think the fire came from its re-entry; I think the fire came from the entity itself.”

Persephone blinked. “A…creature? Falling from the heavens?”

Lahabrea chuckled. “Oh trust me, I find it just as curious. I could be wrong of course, but when was the last time that happened?”

She folded her arms across her chest. He smirked.

“…I’ll find where it is.”

“Make haste, Speaker.”

Lahabrea gave a sloppy bow and left.

He was 10 minutes late to the Convocation meeting the following morning which, as far as Amaurotine etiquette was concerned, was a slap in the proverbial face. Lahabrea stormed in with a whole armful of papers and dropped them in front of Persephone in triumph. Emet-Selch pinched the bridge of his nose with a suffering sigh; the other Convocation members stared in silence.

“…Summarize, please?” Persephone dragged her gaze up to the Speaker, and then added, before he could talk, “In ten words or less.”

That momentarily set him off-balance. Lahabrea opened and closed his mouth, and said at last, “We think it fell in the lakelands.”

She nodded. “What is Anyder’s suggested course of action?”

“To retrieve it, of course.”

“If…I may…” Elidibus stood. “Given that this might be a who we are encountering, and not a what, I should like to be present on the expedition.”

“By all means. It might enjoy a nice fruit basket,” Emet-Selch intoned.

Elidibus stared at him. He didn’t bother noticing. “To that end it might be wise to send the Architect as well, lest we require some means of containing this thing,” the boy added.

Emet-Selch frowned.

“And you, Azem?” Lahabrea asked. “Courting the foreign and bizarre is soundly your domain. I daresay your skills may be required here as much as any other.”

That seemed to placate Emet-Selch somewhat.

Persephone considered, but she could not restrain her grin. “You make my job sound so frivolous,” she said, “but if this is the Convocation’s will then how can I refuse?”

~*~

There was an unspoken rule that no one was to settle the lakelands -- or at the very least, it was widely known how adamant the Amaurotines were on preserving it. Thus its grasses and trees grew with primordial vitality; its waters ran so pure that one could see to the bottom of every river and stream, and indeed the very lake itself. The Silvertear Falls lived up to their name in the afternoon sunlight, roaring with enough power to reverberate within one’s chest and flavor the air with tangy wet earth. It was all so pristine that the blackened hulk shuddering on the shoreline felt a harsh rebuke. They could hear its ragged breathing even from yards away.

“That…is terrifying,” Lahabrea said at last.

“A…serpent? Or…?” Elidibus canted his head to the side.

Persephone glanced to Emet-Selch. “What do you see?”

“…Many lives,” he replied, after a moment. “It brought children. I see the glow of its eggs through the grass. Its own power might have once been enough to level Amaurot, but now it is much diminished.”

“But is it hostile?” Elidibus asked.

Emet-Selch shrugged.

Persephone stepped forward, but Lahabrea caught her. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “A brooding animal will be paranoid around her eggs!”

“Look at it, heaving into the shore! It’s in pain. There’s no way in Creation that thing has any fight left in it!” she replied.

And before he could answer, she stormed off.

The creature was elegant and serpentine, armored in thorny black hide. It lifted its head as she approached, watching with smoldering eyes from where it curled protectively around a spectrum of different-colored eggs. Smoke yet plumed from atop its head, but there was no obvious fire to the beast that she could see. While it bristled at her approach, however, it gave no signs of outward aggression. Persephone extended a hand in greeting while the other three ran to catch up behind her.

I would not suffer thee to approach… the creature rumbled, if thou dids’t not smell so of the world.

Persephone ground to a standstill, staring at him.

Thou understandeth me? His eyes flashed relief, and he bowed his head. Then hear me, messenger. I am Midgardsormr, the last of my kind. I have fled here seeking asylum after the destruction of my star. I do not mean thee or thine harm, but seek only a safe haven where my young may yet hatch and thrive.

“I can hear him…” Elidibus spoke in awe, appearing at her side. “That sounds like language, and yet…I understand. What do you seek asylum from, dear friend? What was so terrible that it could destroy an entire world?”

In response, Midgardsormr lifted his magnificent head to the sky. An empty shell. A construct born without empathy. Something ever-evolving, such that it would forever remain at the apex of war. Mindful of that mandate, it destroyed everything to fulfill the wishes of its creators. I was not the first to stand against it, but now I am the last.

“It is a crime to give any one creation full autonomy.” Emet-Selch frowned. “And so we find our fears fully realized, it seems.”

“But if no one was able to lay this calamitous creation low…” Lahabrea squinted. “Then what became of it?”

Midgardsormr bowed his head. It gave full pursuit as we fled. I have not seen it, but I hold tremendous fear that it may have followed us here.

Persephone felt her heart drop into her toes. She and the others exchanged tense glances.

Lahabrea took a step forward, his eyes like coals between the slits of his mask. “If this rogue creation threatens this world and the people in it, then we will destroy it. We are masters of Creation magic, able to bend the very laws of reality to our will – and should we will it, it shall be done. What threatened your home will not threaten you here.”

‘We’, he said, but Persephone got the distinct impression that this thing was mainly going to be Azem’s problem -- her problem -- assuming it was here.

It possesses those very same abilities, came Midgardsormr’s response, only it lacks thy physical limits, leeching instead the life of the land. So tell me, mortal, can thou truly say with certainty that thou canst best such a creation?

For once, the Speaker had no answer.

Elidibus strode forward, placing a hand over his heart and bowing his head. “If we were able to promise safety to you and your children…might you lend us your wisdom? We may not be as mighty as you, but we are intelligent, and many; it is said that no true Amaurotine shies from the impossible.”

That is your people. Amaurotine?

“The people of our land anyway, yes.” Elidibus smiled. “Our word for our people simply means, ‘those with hands’. So if you must, you can call us human.”

Human. Midgardsormr lidded his eyes. On our star, we were called dragons.

 ~*~

 Amaurot rejoiced at the arrival of the dragons, collectively tripping over itself ensure that they were nurtured and cared for. Akadaemia Anyder built an incubated aerie for the eggs, and made certain to provide Midgardsormr with as much meat as he could possibly consume. Their finest healers looked to his wounds, briefly stymied at points by his alien physiology; in time he began to recover, though the fire in his mane never returned.

The Father of Dragons proved a font of wisdom, and each Convocation member drank deep of it. Lahabrea brought his entire faculty with him to take notes on Midgardsormr’s world, categorizing it so that, even in its destruction, it would not be forgotten. He plumbed the dragon’s mind for all he knew of his mysterious adversary, a metal shell with the powers of Creation.

Elidibus longed to learn his alien language. Midgardsormr taught it patiently, explaining that music was as much communication for dragons as speaking was. It held such a special significance for them that the Emissary, ever conscious of those around him, made certain that various musicians paid the great wyrm visits from time to time. Something about Amaurotine music clearly lulled the dragon into peace; it reminded him of the ocean, he said.

When Emet-Selch heard the dragon Sing, he returned the next day with a variety of crystals. As ever, he bent entirely to his work, such that the rest of the world was shut out around him. In time he learned that the crystals would attune to different frequencies in a dragon’s roar, which would, in turn, make them immensely more powerful. Hythlodaeus occasionally lamped nearby, being helpful for once.

But Persephone did none of these things, for she learned plenty through her colleagues. Instead she invited the dragon to ask her about Amaurot, and the greater world beyond.

Why dost thou conceal thy faces? he asked one day, as she worked to scrape away a molting patch from his hide.

“Is that a request to see my face?” she asked with mild amusement.

I would like to know what humans look like, yes.

Persephone smiled, pulled down her hood, and removed her mask. She stood still as he craned his head to look down at her, watching her first through one eye, then the other.

Curious. But not displeasing.

“How very kind,” she teased. “But to answer your question: some of us are born more beautiful than others. Some of us are old and some of us are young. Want and envy are born from inequality, but by wearing the same masks and the same clothes, we remove such vain concerns. It’s the fair thing to do.”

And does it work?

“Pardon?”

Are all in thy society equal?

Persephone moved to give her automatic response, but the question gave her pause. The dragon was not asking out of curiosity, she realized – no, she could see that in his eyes.

“…You are most keen, Father of Dragons.” She smiled and bowed her head humbly. “How could you tell?”

When Lahabrea bringeth his students to me, I notice how differently they treat one another based upon their magical aptitude.

“Oh.” Persephone smirked faintly. “Yes, that’s...the unfortunate reality of Amaurot. I travel often. I’ve seen so many peoples and so many places -- some of which have ceased to exist even in my lifetime. And do you know what I’ve discovered?”

The dragon did not speak, but he blinked the question at her.

“I’ve discovered that the more you try to make everyone the same, the harder everyone tries to find what’s different. Case in point -- if you are not a powerful creationist here in Amaurot, you are considered someone worthy of pity, as though you possessed some inherent defect. But if you are skilled, it is expected you will do something fundamentally life-changing, for the betterment of all mankind. If you do not, you are at best an underachiever and at worst, selfish. See the conundrum?”

As I expected, then. T’would seem that some behaviors are universal, even across the stars. The dragon’s eyes squinted with amusement, but he turned to consider her. Dost thou know thy fellows without the masks? Is such a thing permitted?

“If you are familiar enough with one another, yes.” Persephone found herself smiling. “It’s a...personal thing, sharing your appearance. It’s something you give to those you trust the most.”

Such as Emet-Selch.

She flinched up at him in shock. The dragon threw back his head and made a sort of bark-growl-roar-chortling noise that she assumed was laughter.

He speaks of thee fondly while he works. Not often. So when he doth speak, I know it to be of great import in his mind.

Persephone smiled faintly, eyes upon her weathered boots. “I did not quite grow up with Emet-Selch. Or with Hythlodaeus for that matter. But we spent many years of schooling together. They are…very dear to me.”

But thou revealed thyself to me so readily. Thou hast done me a great honor, Azem.

“That’s moreso something I do. Revealing myself casually, that is.” She laughed softly and shook her head. “See, my duty is to traverse this world and interact with its people, and I find people are far more willing to engage when you don’t hide your face all the time...” And so she went on with tales of her travels while she worked – though she left her head bare for the time being, seeing as how it was important to him for whatever reason. “Consider it a favor in return for all the knowledge you have given us. You have been tremendously generous. How much longer will it take for the eggs, do you think?”

Still much time. The dragon lidded his eyes, resting his chin on the grass in contentment. The chill of space sent them into deep slumber, and long will it be before their inner Fire is rekindled. I did not wish for such, but I was left with no other choice. A pause, and then, Seen thou aught of Omega?

“We’ve had eyes upon the sky at all hours of the day, but still, nothing. You are sure he was close enough behind you to know where you were going?”

Midgardsormr whuffed, parting the grass blades immediately in front of him. Mayhaps I am wrong, Azem the Traveler. I pray that I am…but I very much doubt it. This star must needs prepare.

“We will.” She tried to sound as confident and reassuring as possible. “You’ve the greatest minds in the universe at your side.”

Midgardsormr did not respond.

[eliniei]

Not As It Seems XIX

Summary: When the Warrior of Light catches a cold, she refuses to simply rest, much to the dismay of those around her. 

Word Count: 3068

Masterlist: here Ao3: here

When I woke up that morning, I realized something was wrong from the start. I sat up and the first thing out of my mouth was a sneeze, accompanied by a dull throb between my eyes. I quickly turned my head away from the Ascian in my bed. With a small groan, I dropped back onto my pillow. 

An arm snaked around my middle as Emet-Selch tugged me closer to him and laid his head on my chest, the warmth of his skin seeping into me. 

“Stay in today, hero,” he ordered, sleepily, voice no louder than a murmur. I shifted so my arm slid under his body and wrapped it around his shoulders, staring up at the ceiling. “You need to rest.”

I pursed my lips and sighed through my nose. 

“You know I can’t,” I said, quietly, the sound of my voice muffled with my congestion. He was silent for a long moment as I sniffed. 

“No,” he started again. “It’s that you won’t .” 

I chewed on the inside of my mouth as I considered his words. He was right, I supposed. But now that the holidays were over, how could I rest with a world to save? 

I ran my fingernails up and down his arm and I felt him shiver under the blanket with my movement. I tilted my head, eyes lowering to the top of his head.

“Can Ascians...get sick?”

“If I were in my true form, your mortal ailments would have no effect on me. However, since I have taken residence in a human body, I am susceptible, yes.”

I bristled at the thought. Of course, if he wanted to be seen by those that didn’t have the Echo, he would have had to obtain a host, but I didn’t have to like it.

With another sigh, I slid out of his embrace and started getting out of bed. 

“All the more reason that I get to work.” A chill ran up my spine when the air hit my skin. “Wouldn’t want the almighty Emet-Selch to catch my cold.”

He sat up slightly, leaning his head on one hand as he watched me head to my closet and pull out some clothes. 

“You’d better dress warmly, hero,” he said, gaze moving towards the window for a moment. “It looks rather cold outside.” 

“ You’d better be careful, Ascian,” I shot back to him, one corner of my mouth tugging upward. “Lest you display some semblance of caring. ”

With a click of his tongue, he fell back into the mattress, pulling the blanket up to his chin, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest underneath. “I won’t be coming to rescue you again if you collapse.”

I huffed a laugh and rolled my eyes.

“It’s just a cold,” I insisted. “It’s hardly anything to worry over.”

He gave me a noncommittal hum and fell silent. By the time I had finished getting ready for the day, he was asleep again. 

As my day continued, much to my dismay, I could feel my sickness progressing. It was noticeable enough that even the Scions looked at me in worry, no matter the strong front I presented.

In the later part of the morning, I stood in the middle of the Ocular as my friends surrounded me, discussing how we should proceed. When the meeting was over, the Crystal Exarch made his way to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, stopping me from leaving for a moment.

“Are you alright, my friend?”

I cleared my throat, trying to stifle the cough that was climbing its way up my throat.

“I’m fine,” I replied, a smile appearing on my lips because of his concern. “No need to worry.” Even through his hood I could see the skeptical expression on his face as a silence stretched between us. 

“If you insist,” he said, finally, his hand dropping from my shoulder. “But should you need a rest, by all means, please take it.” I huffed a laugh and shrugged my shoulders.

“It’s-” Before I was able to swallow it down, the cough forced its way out. Beside me, he paused, mouth drooping into a frown. He reached for me again, but I shook my head as I covered my mouth, holding my hand out to make sure he kept his distance.

“Don’t get too close,” I urged him after I’d recovered, then playfully shoved him with my shoulder as I started for the door, following my friends, a smile spreading across my lips. “Wouldn’t want an old man such as yourself to catch it,” I teased. 

The Exarch pursed his lips and inhaled a deep breath.

“At the very least, I will have some potions sent to your rooms for faster recovery.”

“Fine, if you insist ,” I mimicked his words, stretching my arms behind my back as I walked, but halted quickly as I thought about the Ascian still likely in my bed. With a nervous laugh, I spun back around. “On second thought, I’ll just pick them up myself.”

He tilted his head towards me, curiously, but I gave him a strained smile. 

“I have to go by the apothecary later,” I explained with a shrug, trying to mask my unease. “No sense in making someone walk all the way to the Pendants when I’ll be in the area, anyway.” He watched me for a few long moments, but hummed and nodded, seemingly accepting my reasoning, and finally let me walk out of the Ocular. 

As the Scions went about their research, I decided to head back out to Lakeland and put my abilities to good use, helping the locals with the many menial tasks they needed assistance with. The apothecary and the medicine would just have to wait until later. 

It was just a cold, afterall.

But, while I was helping a man called Seanard spread mortar along the stone walls on the fort in an attempt to repair them, I felt my head swim. My heartbeat spiked and I paused, placing my hand flat against the wall as I blinked, trying to steady my vision.

“Alright?” he asked me, slapping me across the back. I braced myself against the impact. I nodded my head, unable to answer as my knees began to wobble. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my heart rate. He stood back from the wall, placing his hands on his hips as he inspected out work. “I really appreciate this.” I shook my head.

“No, it’s…” 

He raised a brow as I trailed off, stepping up to me and inspecting my face closely. I shut my eyes tightly as the world started to spin.

“Are you sure you’re-”

Before he could finish, I felt myself falling, and everything went black. 

When I came to, soft voices were speaking around me and my head gently bounced against warm, soft cloth, the chainmail underneath poking into my cheek. My body shivered, a chill consuming me whole. 

“One of the locals brought her to the gate, my lord,” Lyna’s voice said, quietly. “Said she was out at Fort Jobb helping to repair one of the cracking walls.” Glass clinked and my eyes slid open. I was resting against the viera’s armor as she carried me down a hallway. The Exarch walked next to her, two potion vials in one hand, his staff, as usual, in the other. 

My eyelids began to droop again, but I blinked quickly. My head fell backwards against Lyna’s arm as she carried me. She looked down at my movement.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she observed, scanning my face. My brow furrowed and I sniffled, the congestion in my head causing a ache to brew behind my eyes. I wrapped my arms around myself, attempting to stifle the cold that I could feel in my very bones. 

“What happened?” I rasped, attempting to keep my voice even and my teeth from chattering. 

“You fainted in the middle of Lakeland,” the Exarch explained, his words short and agitated. “Might I add, not an hour after insisting you would be just fine .” I breathed a chuckle as I lifted my head again, settling my temple against the guard’s chest.

“Why do I get the impression you’re scolding me?” His head tilted towards me again, and I got the feeling that if I could see his face, he’d have an exasperated expression plastered on it.

“That’s because I am,” he shot at me and I rolled my eyes, one side of my mouth tugging upward. I closed my eyes again as I relaxed into the feel of Lyna’s steady footfalls as she walked. “You are to take a few days off and rest .” 

“Oh?” I scoffed. “And where are you taking me? The medical ward? Are you going to tie me to a bed to make sure I stay put?”

“Hardly,” he huffed, visibly trying to hide the smile my joke caused. “Your room will suffice, I think.”

A sigh escaped me as I thought about being warm in my bed, the pillows large and fluffy, the blanket soft on my skin. I supposed that would suffice-

Wait.

My eyes shot open again in alarm. My room? Oh, Gods-

I sat up in Lyna’s arms, attempting to slide myself to the ground. 

“What are you-”

“Let me down.”

“I hardly believe you capable of finding your own room in your current-”

“It’s fine ,” I insisted, wriggling around. “I can make it there myself.”

“Now, where have I heard that before?” the Exarch said with a smirk, lifting a hand to his chin in mock thought as the guard’s embrace around me tightened, holding me still, and in my weakened state, I found myself unable to struggle for long.

She paused outside my door as the Exarch pushed it open. 

“This is fine,” I repeated. “You’ve done enough al-” He waved the hand in which he carried the tonics to cut me off.

“By the Scions’ descriptions, Warrior of Light, I know you to be as stubborn as a mule,” he began as they headed inside. I cringed, waiting for them to realize that there was an Ascian in my room. That he had been spending nights in my room. That we were this comfortable together-

But there were no shocked gasps, no weapons drawn, no demanded questions followed by my hasty, nervous explanations. Instead, the Exarch continued.

“So we’re going to watch until you drink every last drop of this medicine before we take our leave.”

I lifted my head again, taking quick stock of the room. Any hint that Emet-Selch had been here was gone- as was the Ascian himself. I breathed a sigh of relief. The Exarch took it as my compliance and nodded his approval.

Lyna set me down on the edge of the bed, and once I had steadied myself, the Exarch unstoppered the vials and handed them to me. I downed them both at once, hissing at the bitter taste.

“Now,” he said, softly, a small smile gracing his face. He leaned down slightly, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Get some rest. I will send up some food and more medicine later.”

When I nodded, he motioned for the viera to leave the room, then took the small glasses from my hand and followed her closely as he instructed her with how he wanted my care handled. I sat quietly for several long minutes after they had closed the door behind them, leaning forward, my elbows digging into my thighs, and rubbed the skin between my eyes in an attempt to calm the headache as I waited for the potion to take effect. 

With a sigh, I finally stood and started heading for the bathing room so that I could undress- maybe relax in the bathtub before climbing back into bed. I fumbled with my belt as I stood, unhooking the clasp and letting it, along with my sheathed rapier, to clatter to the floor. My head swam once more with the quickness of my movements and I stumbled backwards, my legs hitting the bedside, causing me to fall back onto the bed, my impact making the mattress bounce a few times. 

My senses grew fuzzy as the darkness pulled at my consciousness and I had a hard time focusing on anything- even the beams in the ceiling above me. I struggled against my fading mind for long moments before I realized it wouldn’t help. Before I let the deep, cool darkness claim me, however, I heard a familiar hum. The sound of boots on the floor. 

The Ascian leaned over me, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he examined my face. My eyelids fluttered when the skin of his hand came into contact in my forehead.

“I did warn you, hero,” he said, pointedly before my eyes slid shut. 

I awoke sometime later with a jolt, quickly sitting up in my bed, my entire body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The blanket covering me slipped from over my shoulders to my lap and I furrowed my brow.

How...had I ended up here? How long was I asleep?

I rubbed the haze from my eyes and looked around the room. The light in the room had dimmed significantly so- evening? A few hours, then.

“Ah,” a smooth voice said from the other side of the room. I twisted slightly to see Emet-Selch exiting my bathing room, the distinct sound of running water filtering into the room. “Finally. Do you know how boring it is to just sit and watch someone sleep?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Oh, forgive me, mighty Ascian,” I drawled, making sure the sarcasm in my voice dripped from every word, as I rolled my eyes and dropped back onto my damp pillow. I cringed slightly, the sweat that had seeped into my pillow and sheets cold against my back. 

“You love sleeping,” I mumbled. “Could’ve just joined me.” Emet-Selch hummed his amusement, but otherwise had no comment, and came to sit on the edge of my mattress, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. 

“Your fever has broken, at the very least,” he announced. I pursed my lips as I watched him, but a moment later, a fit of coughs clawed its way up my throat. I covered my mouth, quickly turning my head away from him. 

He slid his hand under my back and eased me up, resting me against him as he reached over to the nightstand and turned back with a new vial of medicine and a glass of water. 

“What are you, my nanny?” I asked as I wiped my mouth, mood tinged with a hint of annoyance. He gave an exasperated sigh and shoved the potion in my hand. I stared at it for a few moments, and when I didn’t move to ingest it, he clicked his tongue at me.

“Now is not the time to be stubborn, hero. As I have said before, you pushed yourself too hard and this is the result.” I sighed heavily through my nose and tore the cork out of the top and tipped the foul-tasting liquid down my throat, making my distaste for it obvious. “You don’t heed the words of those around you,” he began. “Clearly, the famed Warrior of Light cannot be trusted to take care of herself.” He paused his tirade for a moment, taking the vial from me and replacing it with the water. “And if you are unable, I suppose it falls to me. Drink.” 

I breathed a chuckle that led to more coughing.

“Why you?” I croaked as I tried to calm my body and took a sip of water. He shifted behind me, looking towards the nightstand again. I followed his gaze with my head to find a tray, a few different types of food arranged on its surface. 

“Clearly, your beloved Exarch doesn’t know the first thing about you.” I frowned, realizing that he was right-  none of the foods that had been sent were to my liking. Suddenly, without warning, his knowing, arrogant air was back, radiating off of him in waves.

“Besides,” he started. “ My cooking is much better than anything that comes out of his kitchens.” I nearly snorted.

“How conceited,” I mused and took another sip. I felt him shrug as he loosely wrapped his arms around me. 

“Maybe,” he admitted easily, leaning to nuzzle my ear with his nose. “But I was instructed by the best.” 

A small smile spread across my lips and I breathed a laugh. I handed the cup back to him, finished for the moment and he twisted to set it back on the bedside table. When he had turned back, replacing his arm over my shoulders, I threaded my fingers between his and settled into his chest, relishing the steadiness of his breathing, letting the rhythm quickly lull me into a state of near-sleep.

“Are you still cold, hero?” he asked, finally, his voice soft.

“A little,” I mumbled drowsily. He lifted one hand to snap and the running water in the other room faded.

I felt him move to stand, his hands going behind my back and under my knees, lifting me easily from the bed. 

“The bath should be ready by now.”

I raised my eyes to examine his face as he carried me to the bathing room, his expression, as usual, reserved and purposefully unreadable, though I could nearly discern an underlying concern that made one side of my mouth lift. 

“Don’t get used to it, warrior,” he ordered without looking at me. My smile widened and I breathed a giggle. 

When we entered, he slowly set me down on the floor, the cold tile sending a chill up my spine. He held me steady as I undressed and helped me sit on the edge of the tub so he could disrobe as well.

He got into the water first, then gently tugged me in. 

The warmth of the water caused a low moan slip from my mouth and he chuckled as he sat me back against his chest once more. His arms went around my waist and I laid my hands on top of them, sighing in relief. 

I closed my eyes as I melted into him, letting all of the tension in my muscles go. 

“Thank you, Ascian,” I breathed.

“You’re welcome, hero.”

[abimee]

i think everyone in amaurot smokes just because amaurot is supposed to be a utopia so you know they allow indoor smoking but anyway i think theres a big debate about whether conceptualized ciggies or like manually made like waiting for the tobacco to grow and everything ciggies are better and most everyone in amaurot (City) is pro-busting a cig from their cranium but emet is the type of friend who has been meticulously curating all naturale ciggies for his friends, of which he hand rolls on a special little machine every day before the work hours begin so hythlodaeus and azem can have a fresh predawn smoke outside the convo building with some aged tobacco fresh from the elpis gardens. and loghrif sticks her finger in his head constantly about why he wakes up in the crack of dawn to hand roll cigs when he can use his boundless supply of aether to just make what would be the equiv of a $6 pack compared to the $12 packs hes working himself over at 4 am for and emet refuses to answer and just makes a face saying its none of her business. but we know the answer; fwiendship