emet_sulk | [avalon] IC Inbox

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.

Hythlodaeus can't help chuckling more at the mental image, completely charmed. He knows full well that Hades would be absolutely loath to voice his jealousy outright - it's only a blessing that his older self at least can admit to it. But he's also certain in his ability to reassure both of them, one way or another.

"Ah, I can wager I would be the only man ever to be faced with such a problem! Having two lovers vying for my attention, yet they are both the same person. I shall have to turn to Azem so they would distract you two in turns."

"Oh, outsourcing your mischief now, are you? But would you not then grow jealous?"

He smiles faintly though. He doesn't think he has anything to worry about. The bond between them gives him surety. Hythlodaeus will always come back to him, no matter how long the wait. Isn't there a saying? 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'?

"I think you will need to introduce him to your pet name for me as well, else he will think himself less worthy."

"Ah, you are right there. I considered coming up with another one for him, but I fear differentiating between you would still make you both feel as though 'tis a competition." Another wave of fondness through their bond - it's obvious that Hythlodaeus considers the prospect charming. And perhaps buoyed by that feeling he wraps his arms around Hades's waist a little tighter, lifting him off his feet and spinning him around a little - a silly, embarrassingly affectionate gesture that's so much in Hythlodaeus's character. "And well, if I grew lonely in your or his absence, I would merely make you make it up to me later! One way or another."

Hades utters an undignified squawk as he's suddenly lifted off his feet and spun around. For the briefest moment, he ends up leaning Hythlodaeus (much to his partner's glee, no doubt). Once he touches down again and regains his composure, he huffs and pinches his friend's cheek.

Despite his outward manner, there is nothing but affection for the other man.

"You silly man - I hope you didn't throw out your back picking me up just now."

He grins at the familiar grousing, though there is some unevenness to his breathing. It's not his fault that Hades is heavier than he might look!

"If I did, does that mean I don't have to wash the dishes today?"

He rolls his eyes but then suddenly smirks. Bending suddenly, he sweeps his friend off their feet and into his arms, carrying them over to a nearby armchair and placing them gently in it.

"Alright, 'Daeus," he says. "But just this once." And then as though doting on one of the elderly, he kisses the crown of Hythlodaeus' head before straightening, still wearing that smirk.

He squeaks in surprise, clinging to Hades automatically, but being carried is quite pleasing! But just as he gets comfortable in Hades's arms he's deposited on an armchair, not to mention the implications of being treated as an old man. He pouts (though it's all playful, of course) and grabs onto one of Hades's arms, refusing to let go even as he straightens up. If he's going to be pandered to, it ought to last longer than a couple minutes!

"I also want a massage. For my poor thrown back."

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