If the bird is a boon, I'm afraid to imagine what they consider a penalty.
[It's a good attempt at dry, but edges too close to bitter at the end. He was not prepared to accept this other soul.
More important somehow was a hypothetical and a history, and Emet-Selch is quiet for some time after Elidibus concludes; nothing but the occasional tap of a claw gives away that the line was still live.]
...You certainly mentioned nothing of this to the Convocation.
[Something had happened in Elpis- and not all that long after the whole situation with Hermes and Meteion. Emet-Selch knew that much; he remembered the meeting in Amaurot that had loosely summarized some problem in Pandæmonium. But it had all been sorted.
That the Warrior of Light had been involved (or rather, any description of their presence or existence), and had forged some friendship with Elidibus- was a new and unwanted complication.]
I've no desire to erase what few good memories remain to you. Nor do I wish to extinguish what our friend has fought for. But there's nothing simple about a want for the past, Elidibus.
[It had been easier to just be dead and not have to face even the glimmer of opportunity. He felt strongly in both directions and had no answer for it.]
The investigation ended as well as it could have, and I made mention of any relevant information in my report. That is all.
[Which is to say, he left out the incredibly personal bits pertaining to Lahabrea and Erichthonios on purpose, only that an unknown, ill-begotten entity was manipulating the space around and within Pandaemonium, and the fate of the keywards therein. Not his identity, nor Athena's indirect involvement...]
As I have withheld information from Lahabrea in the past, so too have I withheld information from you, and indeed the Convocation as a whole at times. This shouldn't come as a surprise, given the obligations of my seat.
[He remains completely stoic. Yet, the change in Lahabrea couldn't escape Emet-Selch's eyes, nor that of anyone else close to him, it seems. Unfortunately, this is beginning to turn into a rehearsal of the coming conversation with Lahabrea before he's even said a word to him.
A brief shift on his end of the line.]
We could split the timeline. Or... perhaps that split already existed in the first place, without the need for our intervention at all. But the result would not be for us. You recall the cardinal rule of time travel into the past, I am sure -- our success would be only for those echoes of ourselves in a distant future, far, far away from yours and mine.
Besides... I have always asked you not to remind me of what I lost, ere I lose something so precious again and again; now that the void is gone, I could never agree to part with it a final time. Not even if it meant a chance to see Amaurot once more. What would be the point, if I could not even have the sense of nostalgia and relief that came with it? If the people there were but strangers to me?
[Even though it can't be seen, Emet-Selch waves it off.]
Oh, I know it happens.
[There's no resentment in that, really. That Elidibus occasionally kept things from them- that was an element of his station, and one that didn't undermine the trust inherent in him. It was just a touch exasperating this time, and more in the direction of the Warrior of Light being involved in something else in the old world.
And depressing, to think that once they'd reached the modern era, Elidibus had forgotten about the whole thing. They'd both encountered the same fragment of Azem, and had no memory of it until it was all over.]
Even if it would not be for ourselves to see, our stories concluded and sealed, for there to be a chance of an offshoot succeeding where we had failed--
[Emet-Selch is far less stoic about it. This wasn't something he could approach neutrally, without emotion bleeding clear and sharp into it. It's not anger though, not towards Elidibus, or anyone; it's grief most of all.]
If you understand now the preciousness of those memories- then you should understand why I can't let go of mine. In the eons that have passed, I've never forgotten Amaurot, or our people- the reason for our duty. I can no more give that up, than you can the fragments you've regained. For our people, our star- I can recall the point. With you and Lahabrea wasting away into shadows of yourselves, I was the only one who did.
[He opens his mouth, takes a breath as if to reply, then closes it. To say he isn't plagued by the same feelings would be a lie, and he's sure they both know it. Instead, he ends up making a dissatisfied noise, pausing for a long moment.]
Perhaps it is that I am attempting to convince myself of it. That the star is worth saving the way it is, despite our unshakable attachment to the past.
[And it worked, at least for a little while.
There's a scratching noise that sounds like his clawed fingers digging into the wood of a desk. It is a quandary as old as time; save an innumerable amount of people for the greater overall good, or one important person you care for on a personal level? So it becomes a question of which they care for more.]
...As I have told you before, I cannot control what actions you take, not am I interested in policing you or Lahabrea. If push comes to shove and you need to come clean to him, do so. But I know you, and I know how fond you became of the Warrior of Light, the ghostly trace of the friend you saw in that soul. If it were simply a matter of which you care about more, I know you would choose Amaurot, but the truth is, you can't just discard one for the other and feel no remorse about the path not taken.
That's the reason you won't tell him, not because you agree with my opinion. And so are we both hesitant to act in either direction.
...I already said I would abide by your choice, Elidibus. Is there a point to driving in where our preferences differ?
[A more irritable tone, more defensive.]
I would choose Amaurot, would elect to have something new to grieve. That hesitation- you say this as though I'm unaware of it. You're revealing nothing more than what I've told you in this same conversation.
[That he neither wanted to erase the current world, or this version of his friend. He would, if it came down to it- if the opportunity actually presented itself. Lahabrea wasn't that opportunity, only the shadow of the possibility of a hope.]
[The defensiveness means he's right, like as not, but it's probably wise to ease off of him at this point. A shifting of fabric, and a sigh as he leans back in his chair.]
...Aye. I suppose we three have always been this way, even as Ascians. The only thing we were fully committed to was Zodiark, and He alone. I wonder sometimes whether His will was a stronger driving force than the desire to reclaim the past we were forced to leave behind.
I suppose so long as things stay this way, outside of extenuating circumstances, then I've nothing more to discuss at this time. But, and I ask this as a friend... try not to let yourself fall too deeply into isolation. It breeds complacence, and moreover, it's just lonely when you're the only one who feels the full weight of the burden you bear. Hythlodaeus surely must feel the same way.
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no subject
[It's a good attempt at dry, but edges too close to bitter at the end. He was not prepared to accept this other soul.
More important somehow was a hypothetical and a history, and Emet-Selch is quiet for some time after Elidibus concludes; nothing but the occasional tap of a claw gives away that the line was still live.]
...You certainly mentioned nothing of this to the Convocation.
[Something had happened in Elpis- and not all that long after the whole situation with Hermes and Meteion. Emet-Selch knew that much; he remembered the meeting in Amaurot that had loosely summarized some problem in Pandæmonium. But it had all been sorted.
That the Warrior of Light had been involved (or rather, any description of their presence or existence), and had forged some friendship with Elidibus- was a new and unwanted complication.]
I've no desire to erase what few good memories remain to you. Nor do I wish to extinguish what our friend has fought for. But there's nothing simple about a want for the past, Elidibus.
[It had been easier to just be dead and not have to face even the glimmer of opportunity. He felt strongly in both directions and had no answer for it.]
no subject
[Which is to say, he left out the incredibly personal bits pertaining to Lahabrea and Erichthonios on purpose, only that an unknown, ill-begotten entity was manipulating the space around and within Pandaemonium, and the fate of the keywards therein. Not his identity, nor Athena's indirect involvement...]
As I have withheld information from Lahabrea in the past, so too have I withheld information from you, and indeed the Convocation as a whole at times. This shouldn't come as a surprise, given the obligations of my seat.
[He remains completely stoic. Yet, the change in Lahabrea couldn't escape Emet-Selch's eyes, nor that of anyone else close to him, it seems. Unfortunately, this is beginning to turn into a rehearsal of the coming conversation with Lahabrea before he's even said a word to him.
A brief shift on his end of the line.]
We could split the timeline. Or... perhaps that split already existed in the first place, without the need for our intervention at all. But the result would not be for us. You recall the cardinal rule of time travel into the past, I am sure -- our success would be only for those echoes of ourselves in a distant future, far, far away from yours and mine.
Besides... I have always asked you not to remind me of what I lost, ere I lose something so precious again and again; now that the void is gone, I could never agree to part with it a final time. Not even if it meant a chance to see Amaurot once more. What would be the point, if I could not even have the sense of nostalgia and relief that came with it? If the people there were but strangers to me?
no subject
Oh, I know it happens.
[There's no resentment in that, really. That Elidibus occasionally kept things from them- that was an element of his station, and one that didn't undermine the trust inherent in him. It was just a touch exasperating this time, and more in the direction of the Warrior of Light being involved in something else in the old world.
And depressing, to think that once they'd reached the modern era, Elidibus had forgotten about the whole thing. They'd both encountered the same fragment of Azem, and had no memory of it until it was all over.]
Even if it would not be for ourselves to see, our stories concluded and sealed, for there to be a chance of an offshoot succeeding where we had failed--
[Emet-Selch is far less stoic about it. This wasn't something he could approach neutrally, without emotion bleeding clear and sharp into it. It's not anger though, not towards Elidibus, or anyone; it's grief most of all.]
If you understand now the preciousness of those memories- then you should understand why I can't let go of mine. In the eons that have passed, I've never forgotten Amaurot, or our people- the reason for our duty. I can no more give that up, than you can the fragments you've regained. For our people, our star- I can recall the point. With you and Lahabrea wasting away into shadows of yourselves, I was the only one who did.
no subject
Perhaps it is that I am attempting to convince myself of it. That the star is worth saving the way it is, despite our unshakable attachment to the past.
[And it worked, at least for a little while.
There's a scratching noise that sounds like his clawed fingers digging into the wood of a desk. It is a quandary as old as time; save an innumerable amount of people for the greater overall good, or one important person you care for on a personal level? So it becomes a question of which they care for more.]
...As I have told you before, I cannot control what actions you take, not am I interested in policing you or Lahabrea. If push comes to shove and you need to come clean to him, do so. But I know you, and I know how fond you became of the Warrior of Light, the ghostly trace of the friend you saw in that soul. If it were simply a matter of which you care about more, I know you would choose Amaurot, but the truth is, you can't just discard one for the other and feel no remorse about the path not taken.
That's the reason you won't tell him, not because you agree with my opinion. And so are we both hesitant to act in either direction.
no subject
[A more irritable tone, more defensive.]
I would choose Amaurot, would elect to have something new to grieve. That hesitation- you say this as though I'm unaware of it. You're revealing nothing more than what I've told you in this same conversation.
[That he neither wanted to erase the current world, or this version of his friend. He would, if it came down to it- if the opportunity actually presented itself. Lahabrea wasn't that opportunity, only the shadow of the possibility of a hope.]
no subject
...Aye. I suppose we three have always been this way, even as Ascians. The only thing we were fully committed to was Zodiark, and He alone. I wonder sometimes whether His will was a stronger driving force than the desire to reclaim the past we were forced to leave behind.
I suppose so long as things stay this way, outside of extenuating circumstances, then I've nothing more to discuss at this time. But, and I ask this as a friend... try not to let yourself fall too deeply into isolation. It breeds complacence, and moreover, it's just lonely when you're the only one who feels the full weight of the burden you bear. Hythlodaeus surely must feel the same way.