expiationlogs | [open + closed prompts]

Having a drink, or three has never been an issue for Yuja. Her tolerance is pretty good on most days. Today, rather tonight, is apparently not one such night. Either the drinks were too strong or it's been too long since she had any alcohol.

She told Elidibus and Erichtonios she'd only be a moment, but that moment was longer than intended. She's wandered off and is now wishing she hadn't. It was much better when she had the both of them there to cuddle up to. Why did she leave them behind?

Shortly after that thought she has an idea and fishes Azem's crystal from her pocket. Clutching it to her chest she begins to call upon the magic but her thoughts are a little scattered.

Somehow, Emet-Selch will feel the call of familiar magic. The magic of an old friend that shouldn't be possible by anyone in this place.

Emet-Selch is in the middle of reading when he feels that ancient tug. He sits up in shock. Had that been...? It couldn't possibly be...

The summons is not strong. It feels drunken somehow, like a tug on the arm from someone tripping over their own feet. He almost debates ignoring it. However, the thought that Azem might need him preys upon his thoughts. If he ignores it and they're in trouble then he would never forgive himself.

Disquieted, he reluctantly accepts the summons and lets himself be pulled through. He appears in a smattering of starlight. It takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust.

"...How do you know this magic?" he asks tightly.

Yuja stares at him when he appears as if she's stunned to see him standing there. After a moment she blinks as his words finally process. Everything is trying to work its way through a thick filter of alcohol, a likely painfully slow process for Emet-Selch to witness.

"Ah..." She looks down at the crystal still clutched against her chest before slowly opening her hand and holding it out so he can see the familiar orange crystal. "This."

He stares at the crystal in her hand. She shouldn't have it. It's something he made for himself, in memory of them.

He slowly reaches into his own pocket and draws out the crystal of Azem, holding it out beside the one in Yuja's hand.

"Don't tell me that I gave that to you before I died."

She looks from the crystal in her hand to the one he's holding, brow knitting together as she tries to process this information. It's a slow process but she supposes it makes sense he'd still have the crystal given he's from further back in time than herself.

She stows the crystal away as she shakes her head. "You left them with Hythlodaeus." A pause before she corrects herself, "The shade of him. He gave them to me."

His fist slowly closes over his own crystal of Azem and he tucks it away.

"I knew I was going to die then," he mutters. He gives himself a little shake then draws himself up, arranging his expression into a mask of sternness. "So, what have you summoned me here for then, hero? It had better be important."

Right, why did she summon him? She shifts from one foot to the other, tail lazily swishing behind her.

"About that..." she starts slowly, "I meant to summon Themis and Erichthonios. But..." She trails off as she feels her stomach turn. A sensation that feels wholly unfamiliar to her given her usual tolerance. She covers her mouth and turns away for a moment, swallowing hard.

Emet-Selch watches her struggle internally. Then sighs. He steps up, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Better out than in, hero. 'Tis nothing I haven't seen before."

--at the end of a hard battle when the stench of rotting corpses filled one's nose and scavengers tear open fragile bellies to get at the organs beneath--

Even the hardest of soldiers look away and empty their stomachs.

Yuja has often prided herself on her iron stomach, but even that scene is more than she can bear. If not the sight, it's the stench that suddenly assaults her senses that does the trick.

She pulls away to put a little distance between the two of them before doubling over to heave some of the contents of her stomach onto the ground with a splash. If the scent of alcohol on her breath before wasn't a good indicator of what was troubling her, then the scent of it now certainly would.

"Eugh..." she groans as she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth. "What in the hells?"

He lets her do what's necessary, wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell. A snap of his fingers creates a handkerchief, which he holds out for the Warrior to take.

"My apologies. I hadn't meant for you to experience that."

He sounds unusually sincere.

She takes the offered handkerchief, though is careful not to touch him again. Not that touch has ever been necessary for the Echo to do what it does.

She wipes her mouth, eyeing him as she does so. She knows he's old, very very old, and has therefore experienced a lot but she can't help but be curious. "So what was that?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, turning away and crossing his arms. "An old battle. Nothing important. Not to you, at least."

But to those who fought in them, every battle matters. To those who survive, who live to mourn the lost - and Emet-Selch has lost and mourned many.

"I wanted you to empty your stomach but not like that."

"Every battle is important," she responds with a frown. For those that survive, for those that are lost. At least that's something they can agree on.

"Well... Thank you, I guess." She definitely feels more sober now than she did when she first summoned him. She also feels tiredness beginning to creep up on her.

She yawns and shakes her head, trying to shake away the sudden bout of sleepiness.

"Well, since I am not the intended recipient I shall leave you to your little threesome, shall I?"

He feels a small amount of irritation. At being left out? Surely not. It isn't as though the Warrior remembers anything about being Azem. They have no reason to call upon him, which is exactly how he likes it. Yes...

He starts to turn as though to leave. "I'm sure you can find your own way back now that you've sobered up."

She may not be Azem or have their memories, but she still feels this desire to keep him close. Perhaps it's just her desire to befriend all those that are willing or perhaps it's something deeper. It's impossible to know for certain, all she knows is that she doesn't want him to leave just yet.

It's an impulsive desire. Her body moves before she has a chance to think about it, reaching out to grab his sleeve just as he turns back.

"You needn't leave."

He looks back in surprise. He could shake her off, but he doesn't.

"I don't believe I have anything to contribute to a night of revelry, and I'm sure Elidibus and his...friend, will feel more comfortable without my presence."

She frowns a little at his response. It's already getting to be quite late, she can't image the other two waiting too long for her. Surely, they've already wandered back to where they're staying to sleep off the alcohol. And if they haven't, they likely would be before long.

"Then just the two of us. Tell me about the old world or something."

"Why?" he demands aggressively. "You've gone out of your way to ensure the 'old world' will never return. I don't see why I should share memories of a place you all seem thoroughly intent on forgetting."

She releases him, stepping back with a deepened frown.

"Do you know what would have happened if you'd succeeded? If Zodiark was ever desummoned or whatever the Final Days would have continued and then what? You just summon him again? Sacrifice half of your population and then a half more again?" Her tone has begun to take on an irritated edge as she speaks.

Without the answer to what caused the Final Days their lives could have never gone back to how they once were.

"Besides, you bade me remember. Remember that you'd once lived. And I'd like to know more about the world that once was, but forget I asked! I'll just go back to my friends." She turns, throwing her hands up with the intention of starting in a direction. Likely not the right direction, but it would be away from Emet-Selch. Away from the current source of her ire.

Edited 2023-09-01 00:42 (UTC)

He fumes in place for a minute. Before deciding no, no he can't let that statement stand unchallenged. He lets the rift swallow then deposit him in front of her, barring her way.

"Now you listen here, hero: I have had everyone telling me what to expect from my future and that I should accept my inevitable fate, that I should accept failure - all with varying degrees of patronising smugness, like I am a child for fighting against it. I would even accuse you of turning one of my own brethren to your side were it not part of his duty to work independently. And I am telling you that I have had enough.

"I will not give up. I will not accept failure. I will not allow my people to fade into obscurity, reduced to campfire tales and myths destined to be forgotten within half a century. I have worked for too hard and too long to surrender it all now, and although you may call me a 'friend', to me you are simply another obstacle to be removed.

"All of you are so convinced that yours is the only way forward. Yet whilst you allow yourselves the privilege of rewriting time itself for your desired outcome, you won't even allow me the slightest hope of doing the same. Does that not smack of unfairness, 'hero'? Or does your sense of justice only allow for your own ego?"

She'd managed to put a little distance between the two of them, still fuming as she let her feet carry her to... wherever. She nearly runs right into him as he appears in front of her. Her head snaps up as she glares up at him, both eyes clear despite how she normally hides the blue one.

She lets him speak. If she were of a more rational mind she would be able to see his point of view. She would probably even be able to discuss things in a more civil manner, but there's still enough alcohol in her system to be argumentative.

"Ego? This isn't about ego!" She growls at him, tail lashing behind her.

"But, okay! Fine! Tell me then, if you succeed in reuniting the shards and bringing about the life that once was. Then what? How do you travel to the edge of all existence to deal with the embodiment of death and despair? A being fueled by pure negative emotion that has been gathering its strength from thousands of dead and dying worlds for the past several thousand years?"

"I wouldn't let such a creature be created to begin with!" he snarls back. "Were you not the one who said this all began with Fandaniel's creation?! Then I would simply address the problem at its source! Much like your own little friend tried to. Like you yourself tried to - and failed, I might add!"

"How woul--" Her brain screeches to a halt, her anger giving way to confusion until she remembers he mentioned time travel. This really isn't a conversation she can keep up with right now.

She shakes her head. "Right, right, that," she murmurs as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

"To be clear, I never went back to change the past. I only went back to discover the truth. And it wouldn't have mattered, when I was sent back it was already too late to stop what was in motion. Meteion had been created, her sisters already sent out amongst the stars."

There's a pause as she lets the rest of what he said sink in. "Wait, little friend?"

"The Exarch!" he snaps, swiping a hand as if the man were some kind of vilekin he could swat. "Do you think I'm a fool? The Crystal Tower shouldn't exist on the First and neither should he, a denizen of the Source. I hadn't the faintest idea how it was possible for him to appear there until you spoke of using it to travel to the past!" He breaks out into harsh laughter. "To think the solution was in front of me all along... If you're all so intent on denying me even a single victory then I don't see why I should care aught about any of you."

"Oh, G'raha." Right, she supposes he would put that all together now.

"You know it won't be the same timeline, right? You'll be the only one to remember all that had happened before. And there'll be another you." All anger and frustration have left her at this point. She feels exhausted and would much rather sleep and continue this conversation later. But she knows if she tries to leave he could easily stop her, if he wanted.

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