#dedicated to that one Emetfucker I keep trying to get to read my writing

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #11 - Preaching to the Choir

"Judge me all you want, but I still had hope."

Emet Selch shrugged and sighed, as was his wont, "You know, I'm left quite surprised that you didn't see it yourself."

Lahabrea was silent.

"Ah, forgive me, you weren't quite yourself then, were you? That's right, while I was lording it up as an Emperor, you were still hopping bodies like a virulent plague with something to prove."

Emet walked over to where Lahabrea stood and leaned against the wall, "It's definitely him. No matter how much the Miqo'te may deny it. I'd recognize that aether anywhere, even after all of these years. You would have too, I'm sure of it, had you the sensibilities. Or perhaps, you did? I wonder if you attacked her knowing, consciously or not, her true identity."

The unspoken name was Azem.

"If there was anyone who could surpass any and all expectations, it would be him. So really, testing this so called Warrior of Light and her companions and letting them muck about here until I can figure out exactly how they got here in the first place wasn't necessarily an exercise in futility. Despite how much there is to dissect from the Exarch, it's not as if they can cause any permanent harm to our plans."

He glanced to the side at Igeyorhm. Lahabrea and she were inseparable after all.

"Oh, don't give me that look. I had hope. I honestly did. It's not repeating the same mistakes. There was a chance that this time around, it would be different. After all, they are half rejoined now, and we've shattered civilizations with one arm tied behind our backs. What if she could do the same? She could have risen to the challenge. He definitely would have. It wasn't nearly out of the question as you'd presume."

Igeyorhm didn't change her expression.

"Am I wrong to try to sway him, or this facet of him, with words and deeds? We weren't so at such intractable odds as to require an immediate coming to blows, were we? I thought having this facet spend time in what little remained of the First would awaken her understanding of the mess that the sundered make of their lives, how quickly they turn on each other, and how meaningless their existences are."

He sighed again and rose from his lean into his habitual slouch and walked across the parlor to sit next to Loghrif on the plush couch he had dreamt up earlier that day. It had a fold out bit that allowed him to prop up his feet that he quite enjoyed.

"And I know I shouldn't be sentimental about the sundered, but whenever I see her, whenever I'm just in her presence, it's him. I can't shake the idea that it's him." He leaned back and interwove his fingers across his stomach. "Wouldn't it be great to be all back together? I just want to talk to him, like old times. I want to listen to his stories again. I just want to enjoy his presence without this blasted feeling of loss."

He looked over at Loghrif, "Is it wrong that I don't want to fight my friend?"

She didn't respond.

"Right, right, she isn't him. She is a puddle in comparison to the vast ocean of his depths. To fight such a mockery of his essence is to honor his image, his legacy."

Emet sat up, and leaned forward, his chin resting on his still interwoven hands, "He'll understand. Once this is all over and everything is restored. He'll understand. I'm sure of it. By Zodiark's will, it shall be done. Not for my sake, not for our sake, but for the sake of everyone. For those that we've lost, for those we shall save."

Emet got up and waved his hand, dispelling the shades around him. He had an appointment to make. One last push to make her understand. To reach out to him.

He looked back at the now empty parlor room and said to no one in particular, "I just hope he can forgive me after all of this."