emet_sulk | [avalon] IC Inbox

He hates crying, especially where anyone else can see. But in his mind's eye he can see the bodies piled high in that cavern and all the faces of those who trusted him, loved him, depended on him, twisted in betrayal. He can hear voices screaming for succor in fire, flood, and snow across centuries. Across eras. For a while, he thought he had escaped such dreams. After Hythlodaeus' death on Avalon, however, they had returned.

"She says I should have left you dead," he says hoarsely. "That this pain is my own doing. That if I had used my power to help instead of sow chaos--"

He breaks into tearful, unbalanced laughter and buries his face against Hythlodaeus' shoulder. "Does she think I didn't try?" he growls. "Watching their civilisations grow only to see them fall with the lightest of nudges. Incapable of learning, incapable of growing..."

...But Hythlodaeus has heard much of this before. Hades falls silent, tears welling thick and fast until his friend's shirt starts to soak through. Though he does not speak, the seething resentment he feels resonates loudly enough.

Hythlodaeus goes absolutely still for a few moments when Hades says that Venat apparently thinks his friend should have left him dead. While of course he is not happy with how Hades went about getting his revenge, the thought that Hythlodaeus himself should have stayed dead and Hades is at fault for suffering so... well. It's a chilling one, and one that maybe makes him a little angry, and the next thought that comes is that Venat must have changed terribly over the time, too. It's sad, really, and for a brief moment Hythlodaeus feels painfully lonely; he wonders if it was like that for Hades, too, but stretched over millennia.

He shakes himself mentally, returning to the here and now. There is not much he can do for his friend right now but be there; he wraps an arm around Hades's waist, pulling him into a hug, his other hand still petting his hair in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.

"I know you better than anyone, Hades. Better than Venat, certainly. And I cannot imagine a world where you wouldn't have tried. Even now... you hate mortals because you care, do you not?"

His voice is quiet, but Hythlodaeus hopes that the words reach his friend. And while it is true that Hades has committed many atrocities over the years, this is what Hythlodaeus has come to see it as: fury and hatred that are born of the despair of someone seeing the good in people disappear again and again. If Hades truly loathed mortals, he would not speak of their inability to learn, he wouldn't have come to love the Warriors of Light, he wouldn't have given the shard of Azem in his world a chance to stand with or against him.

A quiet, keening sob escapes him and he wraps his arms tightly around Hythlodaeus in turn. Sacrifice. Always more sacrifice, Venat had accused him. So she would allow someone like the Exarch to turn back time to save their loved one, but not him? The hypocrisy makes him want to scream.

"Don't be ridiculous," he mutters, feeling as though his chest is trying to rip itself in half. The faces of all those he once loved flash by his mind's eye. "If I cared, I wouldn't have consigned their civilisations to fire and flood. I wouldn't incite murder, or unrest, or revolt. I didn't care if a plague took the world because it would bring me one step closer to being reunited with you. Do those sound like the actions of a good man to you? Do they, 'Daeus?"

He doesn't know how the Warriors of Light feel. They generally refrain from speaking about it given their vastly different points of view. He knows Felih feels immense guilt that he cannot be the one Hades desires. Irhya... Irhya claims to be content to have his love even if secondary, but he suspects she wishes that she had the whole of his attention.

The weight of all his years has never felt so heavy.

"What if we stayed here?" he eventually mumbles. "What if we never returned to Eitherys? I don't think I can look upon our star again without weeping, and I've no wish to see...her."

I accept my guilt, Hades... You hide from yours, and run from it.

He shakes his head roughly and claws desperately at Hythlodaeus. Be. QUIET!

The idea of staying here is in fact a rather sad one; for as long as Hythlodaeus could remember, Hades cared greatly for the star and its people. But... isn't it just further proof that his friend cares? Even back then Hades had had his own doubts about being suited to the role of Emet-Selch, despite being obviously the best candidate. And now, after too much pain, despair, self-loathing, it makes sense that he can't bear to look at their idyllic world again without breaking.

The logical part of Hythlodaeus wants to say that staying in Avalon forever would be far too lonely, even with the two of them. They would still outlive almost everyone they know, there would still be too many differences between them and mortals. There would be still more violence and willful ignorance that Hades would have to bear witness to.

But he knows that's not what his friend needs to hear, not with the way he clings to Hythlodaeus and claws at his clothes. It's worrying, really; it's been a long time since it was this bad. Hythlodaeus shifts his hold slightly, hugging Hades tighter in turn, as though trying to shield him within his embrace.

"We can stay here as long as you need, Hades. It would give me the time to find all the best places to take you to, after all," he replies softly, the statement both lighthearted enough to keep the mood from plummeting completely and genuine enough to be a real promise. After all, recovery is what he wants most for his bonded, recovery and being able to be himself again. And perhaps that can be felt through the bond: care, protectiveness, deep love and a certain kind of calm, the readiness to shield his friend from whatever further pain might come his way.

"I'm sorry," he whispers brokenly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry--"

He does want to go home. He wants to see Amaurot as it once was, full of life and creativity. He wants to spend idle days with Hythlodaeus and Azem, where the worst thing he has to worry about is a headache from their combined mischief. He craves it so desperately that it almost makes him feel ill. But to return with the knowledge that it would all soon crumble is a heartache he is not sure he can bear a second time.

His friend's steady presence eventually does serve to anchor him. His unsteady breathing evens out. Miserably, he realises that once again he has burdened Hythlodaeus with his own angst and struggles to gather his scattered thoughts and emotions. How many more times must this happen before he can bear this weight on his own?

~~Serve. Save. Slave. Slay.~~ I will never atone for what I've done.

"Why is it mortal man is allowed to wish for a better world, but not I?" he mutters.

As if mortals don't wish for a better life. As if they don't also seek eternity. As if they won't also eventually seek perfection and waste away like every other blasted star in the universe. Hypocrite. Hypocrite.

"I hate her."

Hearing Hades apologize like that is, as ever, like a knife to Hythlodaeus's heart. Of course, he does not deny that his friend has committed many horrific things - horrific by Hades's own standards, too - but he can only feel sorrow at the fact, not hatred or disgust.

(Nor can he hate Venat, really; despite the disbelief and concern for Hades, Hythlodaeus has no desire to see two people he cares for fight. Perhaps there is an explanation somewhere.)

"If wishing for a better world is a crime, then I too am guilty," he murmurs in response. His fingers meanwhile massage at Hades's scalp gently - yet another way to help him calm down. "Mortal words may prove interesting to visit, but I would not wish to live in them."

If the sight of mortal souls had sickened him, he's sure it would disappoint Hythlodaeus even more. His friend would have been able to see every imperfection, every flaw. No, indeed, Hythlodaeus would not enjoy a prolonged time in the mortal world.

He sighs, closing his eyes again as the other man's fingers knead his scalp. That said...that said, he thinks that if they had been together from the start, the ordeal would not have been so harrowing. Does he believe that mortalkind will persist? He's not sure. How can anyone be sure of such things? All he knows is that the world is theirs to make better or worse and he can only hope for the former.

"...I'm sorry," he repeats, but this time it is a great deal calmer. Or rather, quieter. He pulls away from the embrace to pick up his phone, switching it off without looking at the screen. He doesn't want to know if Venat had remained online, waiting for him to acknowledge her. "Do you think I'm running from my guilt...? Be honest, 'Daeus. I don't want you to spare my feelings."

The wording may seem innocuous, but it does tip off Hythlodaeus as to what must have happened. His eyes flit to Hades's phone briefly, its screen now resolutely black, but he decides not to ask outright just yet.

"You drown yourself in it sometimes," he replies after a few moments of silence, voice quiet but steady. He knows it is not a pleasant topic for either of them, but at the same time he can't quite deny the tiny glimmer of hope within him. He looks back up at his friend, hoping that the eye contact will be returned. "You cannot forgive yourself, and so you do not let anyone do so, either. Out of that guilt and shame you try to push us away, too, because you do not think you are worthy of love."

Hythlodaeus takes a deeper breath, gently stepping closer to Hades again - he has the feeling that proximity is important right now.

"I do not think you are running. You do not deny your guilt. But I think that you live in fear, every day. You oft cry in your sleep," he adds quietly, reaching out for his friend's hand again - perhaps in a bid to reassure him, or perhaps as a way to keep him in place.

It's only when Hythlodaeus steps closer that he finally makes himself look up. If he must be honest with himself, it is only Hythlodaeus' enduring love for him that hasn't led to him trying to push his friend away again. Only that silent assurance pulsing across the unbreakable bond between them reassures him that his oldest, dearest friend hasn't forsaken him.

It's gut-wrenching to realise just how suspicious he has become of others that he even doubts Hythlodaeus to begin with.

"I didn't realise you were--" He cuts himself off. He had thought his friend soundly asleep those times. Sometimes he wakes with tears already in his eyes, and sometimes he wakes unable to bear the pain. He looks away again and mutters, "I don't understand how she can act as though nothing has happened. She accuses me of running from my guilt yet she shows not an iota of it herself."

Hythlodaeus laces their fingers together, yet another little reminder of their bond - he has the feeling Hades can use that. Unbeknownst to his friend, he has been aware of the extent of his pain this whole time, but at least Hythlodaeus knew enough not to bring it up, not with how secretive Hades tries to be about it. And while it's out in the open now, perhaps it's a conversation for later, once Hades has had a chance to get over the confrontation with Venat.

"Mayhap you are more similar than either of you thinks. Does she feel no guilt or does she simply not allow herself to dwell on those feelings? She has always been very... driven by her goals."

And it is perhaps an inherent trait of all who take the seat of Azem: a manner of self-sacrifice for the sake of others, a tendency to disregard danger or damage to oneself. He sees glimpses of such attitude in Irhya, too, and perhaps unsurprisingly.

"I am not--!"

He sucks in a sharp breath to cut himself off. Exhaling, he grips Hythlodaeus' hand. He has to stop lashing out without thinking. He needs to regain some of the composure he once possessed. It's difficult though with such anger as courses through him at the mere mention of Venat or Hydaelyn.

"How could you suggest I have anything remotely in common with her? She would never have made sacrifices to bring you or anyone else back to life. She claims to care for life yet will stand by and watch that very same life perish. She is a hypocrite, 'Daeus. She loves death more than she loves life."

Fortunately, Hythlodaeus is at least used to the outbursts now, and can keep his calm. It's not that Hades snaps at him often, but the frustration is easy enough to notice even in their daily life - and especially now, when the bond between them lets Hythlodaeus sense that anger more keenly than ever.

"Then perhaps she's changed more than I thought," he answers quietly; and it might be true, since he hasn't spoken with her himself. "But I merely meant to point out that you are both stubborn." He tips his head, giving Hades a careful look. "What exactly did she tell you? It has been a while since I last saw you so upset."

He takes a few deep breaths and closes his eyes. Would that he could find even a smidgeon of Hythlodaeus' calm and patience. It's not fair to continue to burden his friend with his emotional struggles. Especially now that they are so much clearer.

"I told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she were to do anything that would endanger your life that I would take hers to bring you back again. To which she replied that...your sacrifice had been voluntary. That I should have accepted your loss and moved on. She...criticised me for using my power to bring death and destruction several times over, instead of helping to rebuild. That all I had ever done was everything I had hated mortals for. And she said...that while she was sympathetic about what happened to you last year, that she had no sympathy for my pain because I had done the same to so many others."

He starts chuckling, an empty sound touched by desperation and insanity. He rests his forehead against Hythlodaeus' chest, staring blankly into the weave of his friend's clothes. "How easy it is for her to say that when she never walked amongst them herself. Never understood how it felt to hunger in famine, to thirst in drought, to waste away as your body burns with unquenchable fever. Or to watch family die before their time, over, and over, and over again across countless centuries..."

He listens attentively, a slight frown appearing on his features, then deepening. While it is true that his sacrifice was voluntary, he could never blame Hades for wanting to bring him back; Hythlodaeus would likely have done the same if the roles had been reversed. Or rather, he would have sacrificed himself along with Hades, unable and unwilling to be parted from one another. And as for having no sympathy for Hades's pain because he, too, has hurt others... Hythlodaeus can't quite imagine the Venat he knew to think like that. It's a very mortal way of thinking - and perhaps a sign that Venat really is not as unaffected as Hades thinks.

But as those thoughts flash by Hythlodaeus's attention is still on his friend. When Hades rests his forehead against him, he hugs him in return, one hand stroking his back soothingly to help keep Hades grounded in reality. And despite the heaviness of the topic, there is only one response that comes to his mind.

"And you say you do not care for them."

Even as he says it, Hythlodaeus is reminded of a conversation from long ago, so much longer for Hades that he likely does not even remember it. Such moving empathy. It's as if you wore the feathers yourself. Yes, Hades has always felt things so strongly, even back then; how much stronger, how much more painful would it grow after sharing lives with mortals?

He shakes his head roughly and voices a muffled sound of complaint. "I don't care for them. I don't. I--"

...But there's something in Hythlodaeus' gentle tone that brings out the lie of his denial even before he can finish.

His shoulders slump. He exhales shakily, and in a small voice, says, "I wanted them to live long enough to see their dreams fulfilled."

Hythlodaeus feels a pang of relief: up until now Hades would only deny that he has any concern for the mortals, and him finally admitting that he does is a step forward. He holds him a little closer, resting his cheek against Hades's head.

"I know. And it hurt you so to never see those dreams come to fruition."

"I would always hear their souls crying out," he murmurs. "Mourning for tasks left incomplete, words left unsaid. 'Twas unfathomably cruel what she did to them. Even had I tried to help, I couldn't possibly bear all their unfulfilled wishes by myself. I already had my arms full with the regrets of our own.

"...Besides which," he continues quietly, "if the intent was to condemn man to an eternal search for life's meaning, wouldn't my interference make them complacent?"

"Who knows," he replies quietly. His heart grows heavier as Hades talks of the unfulfilled aspirations of the mortals; in a way, Hythlodaeus's own wish never came true either, did it? And though it is minor in the grand scheme of things, that makes it no less sad.

"Did any of them find that meaning?"

That gets a crooked, unseen smile against Hythlodaeus' shirt. "Well now, mayhap you should ask that of the Warriors of Light."

Even if the Azem they knew is gone, their spirit lives on. And he thinks that in confronting a living entity of despair, that they have found their answer.

"...What was your life's purpose, 'Daeus?" he eventually asks, lifting his head. "What was it you sought to accomplish?"

He cannot help but ask in the past tense even though his friend has yet to see the Final Days.

He smiles in return, a little mischievous, but a little shy, too. It's not like he ever made a secret of his life's goal, but it is still embarrassing to say out loud to one of the people it concerns.

"Have I never told you? What I've always wanted is to help you and Azem realize your full potential. I haven't got much I can give the star, but you two do. And I want to see you shine as brightly as I know you can."

He gazes into his partner's eyes. Then cups Hythlodaeus' face between his hands and kisses his friend tenderly. Not that a mere kiss can convey all the warmth and affection he feels for them. No, nothing in this realm can come close at all.

"I am afraid I am very much a fallen star right now, 'Daeus. One whose potential will never be realised after all. But we are here - we will halt the calamity threatening our star. And once we have, once we return home, I would ask that you travel the world with me so that we might see the world as Azem did but through our own eyes."

"I would love that," he replies after kissing back, a smile on his face and obvious affection in his eyes. He is truly, truly happy to hear that Hades has something he wants to do after returning now; the last few times they've spoken of it, all that his friend wanted was to go to his rest. "But I suppose that does mean they will have to find someone else to mind the Bureau." His voice takes on a mischievous tone there; after all, how often does he get to slack off by Hades's own permission?

'Slack off'? That would imply Hythlodaeus did any work to begin with--

"'Twill be a scandal for the ages: man abandons his work to travel for pleasure," he says with a soft laugh. "Foist the work on my past self. Give him something to grumble about when you return - and something for you to fuss over and appease upon your return."

Come on, he very diligently sat in his office most of the time! When he wasn't sneaking out under one pretense or another.

Hythlodaeus laughs in answer, amused by the mental image of the younger Hades having to deal with the many ridiculous submissions the Bureau saw on the daily... in addition to his main duties as Emet-Selch. He would have such lectures to endure upon his return.

"I would not be surprised if on our return he would force us both to do his work for a few moons. Which, I suppose, would be only fair... And I imagine I would have to take him traveling sometimes, too. I could just see him feeling jealous over himself - that is, you."

"I think I could stand to do some menial work as punishment for a little selfishness." He chuckles as well. "Although I must confess...'twould be lonely not being able to monopolise your attention."

Because yes, he wagers he would be jealous of anyone else occupying Hythlodaeus' time. Even if it was another of him. Oh, he doubts he would make it clear though. There would be barbs, pointed words, the silent treatment - until someone confronted him about the matter and forced him to out his concerns.

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