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In all honesty, he really should have expected this question to be posed at some point.
Emet-Selch had spent the entirety of the morning gazing deeply into the underworld. Souls moved hither and thither, forming a kaleidoscope of color to his senses. Most tended to wander a bit before settling into only what Emet-Selch could ascertain as permanent resting places. In many ways, observing the underworld was like observing the night sky.
Many were there long before Emet-Selch was born. Some of them he could even name, lingering on his lips for deaf ears to recall. New ones were wont to stay still. They explored the Underworld in an excited blur, with all the wonder of rediscovering a childhood home after years of being away. Of all this he observed with reverence, however, he never could quite place the emotion he felt whenever one of his stars winked out.
Barring the few Aetheric disturbances from time to time, “managing” the underworld was less of a task and more of an exercise in introspection. He didn't fear returning; what could possibly be more triumphant? But he did always consider, When? When will I be content to leave things, satisfied that my work was beneficial for our star? Will I return alone? Or will others be waiting for me?
He did not know.
Situated in the capitol building thus, when they could not be found teaching in the Words or performing the duties upheld by their seat, the members of the Convocation of Fourteen could be located in their offices. The distribution of said offices was like that of a clock face, and would thus be situated according to one’s seat number, barring two notable exceptions. The first being the seat of Elidibus, who’s role as overseer leant to more of a watcher’s role. The second exemption belonged to the seat of Azem, and Emet-Selch pitied the poor fool who believed for a second that they could convince any Azem to even look at a document.
It would have been like any other day; studying the flow of the underworld, cataloging disturbances and changes. It was unfortunate that such a peaceful duty amounted to so much paperwork. Luckily for him, his office was big enough to accommodate a large desk; the perfect environment for his carefully crafted ecosystem of reports, documents, pens and one or two knick knacks to keep it thriving.
So engrossed was he in notating an odd gathering of souls that he practically leapt out of his chair when his office door was barged into. In his startled state his shoulder crashed into one of the paperwork towers that spanned across his desk, ravaging his ecosystem and devastating the lives of several neat and archived generations to come. Amidst this unprecedented disaster a loud voice muffled his groans of anguish.
“My admirable Emet-Selch! It’s good to see you in such good spirits under the weight of all of those papers.”
Indeed, the third seat found himself buried under the rubble of the day’s tedium. Stacked reports had scattered to all corners of his office, documents painstakingly sorted were all now in disarray. Thankful as he was that the door was hastily shut to prevent any escapees, he wasn't above uttering several curses condemning his intruder. Unfazed by this hostility, his intruder laughed. “It's a good thing I arrived when I did; you look on the brink of death, my illustrious Emet-Selch.”
He didn’t need his soul sight to recognize incorrigible behavior.
“Azem.”
Controlling the scowl on his face was difficult, but it reluctantly eased as they moved to unearth him from his wordy tomb. Still annoyed at his current predicament, he half-heartedly swiped at hands that lingered too long on his person. No remorse whatsoever was given, only a toothy grin for his admonishments. Giving up his petty revenge for now, they worked in tandem to bring back his desk’s natural order. Despite the disaster that had befallen him, it only took a couple of minutes to fix. He sighed out in relief. For as chagrined as Emet-Selch had felt when his door first opened, he was truly happy that Azem had returned to the city. Returned to them.
Said object of happiness grinned as they picked up the final papers that had fluttered to the front of his desk. He couldn’t see their eyes through their black mask, but doubtless he knew that mischief lurked there, biding its time.
Order restored, he sat back down and took a moment to observe his unexpected guest. Not that he was expecting anything else, they were in typical high spirits, and from what he could glean as they picked up his papers, no worse for wear. They tended to hide those things though. His mouth formed a frown at that. No matter, if any such injuries were hidden, he and Hythlodaeus would see to them later.
As of now, however, they were meticulously checking on the plants in HIS charge (it would be a miserable day for all if any of his beloved plants perished). They pinched the soil in between their fingertips, nodding in satisfaction. They then studied what felt like every single leaf, scanning for any sign of neglect. throughout all this, the third seat waited for Azem to announce the reason of their unexpected intrusion, but curiously, they remained silent.
This had to be one of Azem’s games then. He briefly wondered if the loser was whom ever spoke first, but quickly discarded that thought, reminding himself that they had proudly proclaimed their arrival. Frown loosening, he made a show of picking up and scanning an unfinished document, watching them for signs of deceit out of the corner of his eye.
Finally satisfied with his plant care, they flitted about his office, examining his bookshelves and all the little knick knacks that were displayed. It was not for his lack of interest, but rarely anything was actually changed in here. In reality, any changes or gifts given were usually placed without his consent. Thus, Emet-Selch had formed a habit of searching his office every other day for new discoveries. After due consideration, Azem plucked one of the books he suspected was gifted to him by Hythlodaeus; “The Language of Flowers.”
He knew they left just about as many dog-ears as he had on that particular volume. Dust lingered on their fingertips, it had been years since either of them had last consulted it. what was he missing? They had brought nothing tangible with them except minor chaos. Would he find his home more lively when he returned this evening? Perhaps he could draw out their patience by returning to his work...
They fell into a comfortable silence, occasionally interrupted by pen scratching and page turning. It was relaxing, more-so than normal days at work. He fell into a rhythm, and before he knew it, most of the documents were finished. When there was only a scant few left, Emet-Selch realized that the room was suddenly silent.
Pretending to look over another report, he glanced over at Azem. The book lay closed in loose fingers, their posture relaxed and a fond smile openly directed at him. Being the object of such unguarded love flushed Emet-Selch's cheeks. What was your game, Azem?
Still feigning reading the report, he cleared his throat, “Not that I’m unhappy with your return but, aren’t you supposed to be working?”
Their lips parted to form a dazzling grin. “Always business with you.” Replacing the book back onto the shelf, they sauntered back to his desk. Hands on hips, they declared, “I’ll have you know that I filed my report to Elidibus this morning, so effectively, I’m on break.” Emet-Selch deemed their grin annoyingly smug.
“I see. Well, since I was spared from your unscrupulous meddling this morning, I imagine that with all that new found free time that you’ve already gone and bothered Hythlodaeus?”
A look of surprise crossed their face. “Oh! I almost forgot! I have a question to ask you!” He tilted his head at that. Was Hythlodaeus involved in their game?
Placing a hand on their chest, they implored him with genuine curiosity, “What’s the color of my soul?”
He dropped his pen in shock. Where on Etherys did this question come from? Realizing that his mouth was agape, he quickly moved to regain his hard working composure. “Did it not cross your mind to ask Hythlodaeus when you went to see him?”
This was apparently the wrong answer. Crossing their arms indignantly, they bemoaned, “I did. But he wouldn’t tell me.”
Setting his pen aside, he motioned for them to continue. With a bit of a pout, they recounted what Hythlodaeus told them.
“Well, that’s a bit personal, isn’t it? Hmmm ... .despite my superior soul sight, I think Emet-Selch would give you a better answer than I could.”
Despite the mannerisms matching, that was the worst sounding Hythlodaeus impression he had ever heard. Emet-Selch gave them his best deadpan stare and they met it, unflinchingly.
He crossed his arms, mirroring them in pettiness. “Just what makes you think that I will tell you anything?”
He didn’t like that gleeful look. “You have a weakness that I can exploit!” Before he could think of teleporting out, they rounded the desk and grasped his hands. Try as he might, prying anything
out of Azem’s grasp was next to impossible, so he could only watch as they leaned into his face, their black mask obscuring his vision. There was a clack as both masks met one another. Once again, he was thankful that the door was closed.
They stared each other down, black melding with red. Emet-selch felt their breath tickling his nose and his heart beat just a little faster. Their grip on his hands loosened to stroke his fingers, and he wished that their lips were just a little bit closer…
“Please, Hades?”
It took great effort to remember that this was a ploy for his cooperation. Even though he wanted to lose himself in them, he valued his office space not becoming the scene of a scandal just a hair more. With a groan of frustration he palmed their face and shoved them away. He bolted out of his chair before Azem could pounce him again. “Fine! Fine. If you want to know so badly.”
He gazed at them, considering his next words. They looked back in anticipation, eager to finally hear the answer that Hythlodaeus had denied them. In all honesty, Emet-Selch had never quite put a name to that bright color he drank deeply of at this moment. Chin cupped thoughtfully in his hand, he pondered over this revelation. Seconds passed into minutes, and if the fidgeting was anything to go by, Emet-Selch could see that Azem was fighting a losing battle with patience.
Just as they opened their mouth to whine for an answer, he cut in, “Have you ever tried to describe the color of fire?” He paused, waiting for an answer. None was given. They merely placed their hands on their hips, waiting for him to continue on what they would deem, ‘his lecture.’
He walked up to one of his bookshelves, grabbing an opal that Azem had given him years ago. They came into step behind him, trying to see what he was holding. He turned it in his hands, letting the light shift its rainbow of colors for Azem to see.
“I know this is an opal, but the theory is the same. You could say ‘it's blue or white’ but that would be oversimplifying it. So It’s not quite a single color. Added to that, its hues and intensity changes upon the situation and environment, but regardless, you know it’s an opal when you see it. Just as you know fire, when you see it.”
Taking the opal from his hands, they tilted their head thoughtfully. “So despite a soul not just being one color, it leaves such a distinct impression that you can't mistake it for anyone else?” He nodded, pleased that they caught on so quickly. Still peering down at the opal in their hands, they murmured, “I see.”
They seemed disappointed at that.
Taken aback by this reaction, Emet-Selch worried that this exchange had upset them. He raked through his thoughts, trying to find an answer that would take away the sullen look from their face. He glanced at the window. I’m going to have to give up another secret now, aren’t I? He found the idea less troublesome than expected.
Taking the opal from their hands and putting it back in its proper place, he motioned his head upwards. “Go up to the roof, I’ll meet you there after I finish up.” They gave him a confused look, but made for the door nonetheless. Before they could touch the handle, Emet Selch wrapped his arms around them in a hug, restraining himself no longer. “I missed you.”
They let out a triumphant hum. Ah. So that was the game. He didn’t mind being the loser on this occasion then. He pressed his lips to their cheek for a brief moment, then released them. “I’ll be there soon.” Not allowing them a moment to gloat, he ushered them out, a rare smile on his face.
Finishing up really took no time at all. The tranquility of Azem’s presence did in fact make him work better, even though he always claimed the opposite. Giving a final check on his beloved plants, he left his office satisfied. At this time everyone was leaving for the night anyways, so he managed to duck out of conversations with relative ease. He didn’t want to be late after all.
In actuality, if one wanted to get to the very top of the capitol building, they would have to fly. What he actually deemed as the roof was the highest place that one could naturally get to, the final flight of stairs leading to just a small ring around the spire at the top. It was one of his favorite places in the whole of Etherys.
Opening the door, he was greeted by a warm breeze, soothing his senses with fresh air that smelled of the city. Gazing out towards his beloved Amourot he could see that the sun was beginning its descent into the horizon, bathing the world in embers. Making his way around the roof towards his preferred viewing spot, he was surprised to see Hythlodaeus perched precariously on the edge with Azem, both sharing some exciting topic. Truly incorrigible the two.
Spotting his approach, Hythlodaeus waved to him, “Ah, my glorious Emet-Selch. We were wondering if this was an elaborate ruse to escape from us and hog our cozy bed all to yourself.”
They had both taken their masks off, and after a bereaved sigh, the third seat moved to do the same. There was no fear of discovery; no one besides him and Hythlodaeus came up here anyways. He cautiously sat down in between them, not fearing falling per se, but it would be momentously embarrassing if he did.
Hythlodaeus took his left hand and kissed it, “You made it just in time.” Azem looked around and then at both of them. Crimson eyes met his and with a suspicious voice they said, “I still fail to see what you wanted to show me.” He held their gaze but for a moment, and then cast it out onto the sunset. Hythlodaeus followed suit, and after a moment, so too did they.
The sun had been half devoured, bleeding light and birthing shadows into the city. The wind played with his hair and he was warmed down to the deepest parts of his soul. He barely noticed Hythlodaeus and Azem lean into his shoulder, so content was he. Enveloped in love, he closed his eyes and spoke.
“I can’t remember when I came up here for the first time, but I know it was after you started chasing after Venat, seeking the same discoveries and misadventures. At first I was elated to be rid of the biggest troublemaker on the star, but I found myself plagued by incessant pangs in my chest from time to time. At first I sought out Hythlodaeus, and for a time the pain was abated. But it had become harder and harder to ignore. Then, one day I had chanced to look up to the capitol building, the sun sinking in the sky. Perhaps I acted rashly, but I summoned my steed and flew up there as quickly as I could, hoping none would spot me.”
Azem chuckled into his shoulder. He opened his eyes, feeling hands entwined with his own. “Whenever my heart would start to ache, I found that my steps would take me up here, and I would wait for the sun to set. Imagine my shock when one afternoon my place had been taken up by our amiable speaker of nonsense.” Their gazes shifted to Hythlodaeus, a fond smile upon his face.
His lavender eyes crinkled with mischief as he shrugged, “I was curious. At that point I had seen Emet-Selch’s soul come up here several times. I pondered for a time, but I couldn’t quite place where that habit had arisen. He would never give me a direct answer, so I went to try it out for myself. It was then that I saw his reason. By the by, someone had to inform our honorable Emet-Selch that he could have used the stairs the whole time.” Azem giggled as Emet-Selch tried to pry his fingers out of Hythlodaeus’ grasp, unsuccessfully. Yet again giving up his struggles with his incorrigible loves, he settled on a scowl to voice his displeasure. It was impossible to maintain in such good spirits however.
Minutes passed. His golden gaze set upon the world painted in the sun’s dying light. “It’s never painless when you set out on your adventures.” His hand grasped Azem’s. “Sometimes I worry that you’ll never come back, and sometimes I fear the idea of living in a world without you in it.” He felt a reassuring squeeze from Azem.
“When that ache is too much to bear, I bring my burden up here, and I find you in that distant star.”
—---------------------------------------------------
Pale, yellow eyes opened slowly, emerging from sleep. Dreaming had become a curse for him long ago; visions of the past haunting his steps and ghosts weighing his shoulders down. But he had to keep going. Hythlodaeus was waiting for him, wasn’t he? He only needed to perform his duty. He would uphold his burden like a trophy, letting it shape his reason, letting it whet his longing.
He shook off the remnants of the dream, and began to make his way to the Crystarium. He only managed a couple of steps when that accursed pain had once again crept into his chest. With every beat of his tired old heart, the ache pulsed unbearably. Desperate, he turned his gaze towards the horizon, towards a sky of never ending light. ‘Of course,‘ he laughed piteously.
There are no more sunsets on this damnable star.