Everything I tell you has been spoken...

[travelerscurse]

He's been avoiding it.

He's had other things to think about, what with the actually for real almost dying this time, aether so incredibly low and body so injured that even though he'd been able to be conscious and occasionally mobile early in the process, the actual logistics of whether or not he was going to live were fairly prolonged. It's not that his rest hasn't been justified or that the order that people weren't to bother him wasn't as welcome as it was frustrating. But in his heart, he knows he's avoiding it, that he's actually lingered in his sick bed several days past when he normally would have. Tataru in particular has been proud of him, for actually giving himself time to heal, for not being belligerent and staggering out to breakfast and damn the consequences.

But he knows the truth.

It's only going to get worse the longer he lets it go, though, so after a few days of fidgeting, accepting the praise with growing guilt, he swings his feet out of bed and makes to get dressed. Nothing complicated-- he both doesn't want anyone to think he's actually trying to do anything and he's also not sure he's got the motor coordination yet for all of his normal straps and buttons and buckles. A simple shirt and pants then, tucked into simple boots. He'd like to take his staff with him, spends a moment with his fingers laid against the bark, taking comfort from a familiar object, but ultimately he doesn't want to antagonize either Emet-Selch or Tataru with the thought he might actually use it for magic.

His gait is missing some of it's usual spring (or swagger, depending on who you asked) but he's at least able to walk normally now and it's a surprisingly simple matter to make a few inquiries and find Emet-Selch, wherever he's chosen to be in Sharlayan. He doesn't make a secret of his approach in the slightest, even clears his throat a little, before he opens his mouth to say something and realizes he has no idea what to say.

"Ah. I... thought you might want to know that I was... out of bed finally." He starts with, lamely. It's not why he's here and they both know it.

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[emet_sulk]

At long last, he thought. Finally his part in this over-run saga would be over and he could retire to the tranquillity of the aetherial sea with Hythlodaeus and the rest of his people. To sleep, perchance to dream - and gradually his soul would unravel and re-emerge somewhere, sometime, perhaps in a century or perhaps even longer, to live a brand new life amongst brand new faces.

But it is not to be.

Hythlodaeus' physical form vanishes beside him and he watches his friend's soul soar towards the starship, no doubt headed back to Eitherys. But when he attempts to follow, something anchors him in place. He had glanced at the Warrior then in open surprise; the Scions, too, seemed confused by his continued presence. But there had been little time to wonder with the Meteia waiting.

Emet-Selch doesn't join them. He may have a corporeal form for now, but his resolve is not what is being tested here. Only they can save their world. His own wishes would simply get in the way. So he waits in the field of elpis, drinking in the vast silence of space. Which is how he is the first to see and hear the enormous serpentine form of Shinryu descend upon Ultima Thule.

His great-grandson (yes, he can tell it is them) doesn't recognise him, naturally. Rather than bother with such mundane details, Emet-Selch points the boy-turned-dragon towards the crack in the egg and decides he doesn't want to be nearby when two cosmic deities clash. To his surprise, the Scions are there and picking themselves up off the floor. He watches as their fervent prayers send ripples then waves throughout the dead and dying fragments of long-lost worlds.

In the end, their hero triumphs. Of course they do. And although there had been a heart-stopping moment when all thought their friend dead for it, they and the Scions all return exhausted but triumphant to Eitherys.

It's at this point that Emet-Selch tries to slip away. He doesn't belong here in this time, in this place. He's an anachronism, a relic, a--

He's pulled up short by a man in scholarly robes.

"Beg pardon, but would you happen to be one of those 'Ancients' that the Warrior of Light spoke of?" they ask excitedly.

"I, ah--" He instinctively glances back at the docks and the throng of people surrounding the hero's party. His hesitation gives the student an opening.

"This is incredible! You simply must share everything you know!"

Before Emet-Selch knows what's happening, he's being dragged off to the Studium and finds himself being questioned in exhaustive detail about the World Before. Even when he manages to escape their questioning by pleading for rest, somehow he's found the next day and it all begins anew. By the time the Warrior does manage to find him, the former Ascian is trying to sleep on the grass behind the Studium (he had not seen the point in hiding further afield since that would simply mean a longer walk back). He cracks open tired eyes, squinting at the other man.

"Oh," he sighs, shutting his eyes again. "Well, good for you. At least one of us had some rest."

[travelerscurse]

There's a time when that response, the weight of things not being said, would make him fidget. He's not precisely a man of constant action, despite what people seem to think of him on occasion, but leaving things unsaid has always bothered him. Now though...

Look, he's tired too, though surely not in the same way. There's been time to rest in the past few years, but very little of it has come all at once and almost never without some new threat hanging over his head. Now, the response just makes him sink down to the grass a respectful but not quite unfamiliar distance from Emet-Selch. He leans back on his hands and looks up through the trees. The sun today is warm but the air is still a bit chilled and it's frankly delightful, what he would call perfect weather.

"I could scare off the scholars for a bit, if you wanted to sleep. I'm sure they're dying to pester me with questions too," he's heard a bit, at least, about what Emet-Selch has been subjected to since returning. He's not entirely sorry to learn the other man has been subject to fascinated scrutiny, but only because he has a sneaking suspicion it's probably less irritating to get to lecture on the ancient world than Emet-Selch would make it out to be. If anyone around here knows that the man sitting beside him was also the leader of the Garlean Empire and an Ascian, it is only because Emet-Selch himself has told him. None of the Scions have seen fit to say a word.

But this is also not why he's here, to play watchman or to enjoy the day.

"I... hope it hasn't been overly difficult for you." He means the questions. He means more than the questions.

[emet_sulk]

He shrugs half-heartedly, rolling over with head resting on folded arm. By all appearances, he's still trying to sleep.

"I am not a curiosity to be poked and prodded," he mutters. "I know Sharlayans are sociopathic but if they approach me again I may just set fire to their library."

His answer similarly doesn't really address the Warrior's question. He doesn't know what to think about remaining here, amongst these sundered people. They received a welcome he can now only ever dream of. His sole consolation? He can feel Hythlodaeus' soul hanging about in the aether nearby, watching over him and waiting.

[travelerscurse]

Gustavain can't help but chuckle at that,

"I'm sure you would not be the first to attempt it, at the very least." He falls silent for a long moment after that, though the silence is surprisingly comfortable and not like he's just waiting for Emet-Selch to say something about it. Finally, though, he does speak again, his voice a little softer, just for the two of them.

"We can talk about it now or later or we can never speak of it again, whichever you prefer. But I need you to know I didn't do it on purpose." That it was his doing is of no doubt, either to himself or to Emet-Selch. He had known precisely what had happened the moment it had happened, he just didn't have any control over it. "I'm perfectly aware it's childish and if I could have made a different conscious decision, I would have," he shrugs slightly, though he doubts Emet-Selch can see it. He's looking up at the trees still rather than at him, so he wouldn't know. "But everything in that place is born from the heart and not the head. And I've never had any control over that."

[emet_sulk]

He lets out a sigh that is part grumble. He could probably overcome his new, corporeal form easily, but that would rather trample on the hero's wish, wouldn't it?

His eyes crack open and he stares at the river flowing merrily near them. "If you really miss me so much, I suppose I could postpone my return to the aetherial sea for a little while," he says grudgingly. "But you will keep those nosy scholars away from me."

Reluctant though he sounds, he cannot help a small feeling of anticipation. A chance to travel again - although it won't be with the Azem of old.

[travelerscurse]

There's so much that Gustavain doesn't know about Emet-Selch, about who he was and what he was like before the version of him he's the most familiar with. But even so, there are some things he does know and what would be a lukewarm-to-cold response from anyone else has him finally looking over in a warm sort of shock, because that's... surprisingly easy, isn't it? Sweet, almost. He finds that it flusters him more than the tense silence did and he can't help but just blink at him for a moment too long to gracefully cover. He's probably also gaping just a little bit.

And then there's the warm, fond smile he's come to be known for, crinkling the skin around his eyes, before he flops backwards in the grass.

"I'll see what I can do. I've spent most of my time here staying away from them so as not to get in trouble rather than staying away because they would like to see me. But the theory should be the same."

There's so much he wanted to say, before. Before Elpis, even before the Tempest. He's keenly aware that the Emet-Selch he met on the First got everything wrong about what Gustavain was feeling at every possible moment, but he wasn't sure how to correct him then that didn't just sound like empty protest and none of it really matters now that they're here. There's a time where he would have said it all anyway, but the weight of what had happened on the First, what happened since, weighs him down in a way that sometimes looks like trauma and sometimes looks like maturity. And yet, he cannot fully say nothing either.

"If you change your mind, know that I would help you," he doesn't mean about keeping the scholars away, "but there would be no joy in it. There never was."

[emet_sulk]

He shifts slightly. "If it comes to that...it won't be in your lifetime."

That would be cruel, wouldn't it? They have already had to kill him once. He won't make them do it twice. There are ways to return to the star without such violent means.

"...So what are your plans then?" He finally rolls over on to his back, staring at the sky through a canopy of leaves. "You've saved the star. The Ascian threat is gone. The Scions are no longer needed, are they."

[travelerscurse]

He laughs, then, but there's no joy in it either. It's not entirely empty, but it's sort of helpless.

"Everyone keeps asking me that as though I ever had a plan to begin with. I don't know. Maybe I just won't have plans for a while, see if I can remember what that's like," he shakes his head again, "I don't regret or resent the journey, quite the opposite, but the last time I got to really choose for myself where I went or what I did, I was playing my lute in roadside inns for my supper," his lips curl ever so slightly, teasing, though he's not exactly sure what he's teasing or why, "-- and flirting for my bed. I'm not sure what that young elezen would have wanted looks like what I want now. There hasn't really been time to think about it."

He stares up at the sky, tucks his hands behind his head,

"First I suppose I'd better finish healing, lest Tataru or Alisaie skin me alive and undo all of the hard work everyone's gone to in patching me back up."

[emet_sulk]

"I could heal you in the blink of an eye," he says dryly. "But I won't, because that would teach you the entirely inappropriate lesson that rest isn't important in maintaining your feeble, mortal body."

Scathing though the words are, he cannot help but feel a measure of fondness. It's like how he used to banter with Azem when they came home injured from their excursions. The Warrior of Light will never be able to shake off their predecessor's ghost - not in Emet-Selch's eyes anyway - but the journey would be a chance to get to know this new facet of them.

...Ah, but they have been lying here long enough for some scholars to find him again. He resolutely squeezes his eyes shut and crosses his arms over his face as a pair approach and hail them excitedly.

"No more. I am not answering any more for the rest of the day!" he growls.

[travelerscurse]

Gustavain chuckles softly at that, a real one this time, one that crinkles his eyes at the corners in a way that will, eventually someday, be etched into his face.

"Such a flatterer," he quips back, his own voice warm and teasing as he looks over at Emet-Selch with a grin, "Careful, or I'll get a big head."

Rather than seeming to particularly mind living with the shade of Azem hovering between them, Gustavain's issue seems to more be how easily he falls into what he doesn't even know are old patterns. He's his own person, of course, has perhaps a bit more in common with Venat at this point than any memory Emet-Selch may have of his Azem. But when it's just the two of them, it's like something tugs inside him, something knows, and all of his typical gift of the gab turns into being able to do a really good Azem impersonation, even though he has no idea that's what he's doing.

The way Gustavain sits up and waves at the scholars as they hail them equally blurs the line between past and present, the way attention shifts to the Warrior of Light the same way it always did when Azem was found out to be back in Amaurot from an excursion. But the way Gustavain's lips curl just so is new, along with the slightly firm tone,

"I'm so sorry, both of you, but I'm afraid now's not a good time. Do you mind coming back later?" it's a moment that makes Hythlodaeus more apparent by his absence-- it would usually be him who would steer onlookers away from the other two-- but it's also got a surprising amount of steel, a tiny hint of he's mine right now, back off behind it. "We have a lot of catching up to do. You understand, right?" it's very polite in tone, but something about it suggests that it could quickly become less so.

[emet_sulk]

Emet-Selch peeks past his arms in time to observe the scholars being brought up short. One is clearly more adept at reading subtext; they stammer a hurried apology and tug on their fellow's arm. However, their companion seems oblivious to the warning signs and actually takes another step forward.

"Oh, of course! Of course, but it will only take a few minutes, I promise you!" they enthuse. "After all, it isn't every day you get to question someone who has lived through all of known history!"

The former Ascian ponders taking action, but after a sideways glance at Gustavain, he decides that it would be much more fun to watch them take care of the matter. In whatever way they deem appropriate. So he pretends not to stir and waits for the Warrior's response.