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.

Comments

[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."