[On this day- a fine day- long ago in his past, a young mage had been tasked with something rather important. And rather vague, as the details of this request were withheld. Yet he had been instructed to meet with a particular group of elders at a particular part of the city, within a particular building.
And far be it for that young mage to refuse such a request. Whether he had abided willingly or been asked to simply quiet any potential complaints and see was a detail long lost. But he had arrived. He had met with three elders, each of them polite and each of them charming in their own ways, and the point of this little meeting had been posited.
That this mage had a great deal of skill for one so young. A desire to grow and to improve where most, given such talents limited by relative age, would be tempted to openly brag or to think themselves above further instruction. That attitude would perhaps be something helpful to others. That perhaps he might put it to use on someone who- conversely to him- had not shown very much natural affinity at all.
And thus, Hythlodaeus had been introduced. He's of a similar age to Hades, looking perhaps fifteen- as everyone else- attired in a plain black robe, his hood drawn upward. He varies just slightly by the presence of lilac hair curling at his jaw- unfortunately visible via the awkward virtue of being too short to tie behind his head, and too long to conceal.
...And oh, he appears to be a cheerful one. As he's introduced, he strides forward- offering his hand to shake immediately as he confirms his identity with his greeting. And immediately:]
Oh, thank goodness. I had been half concerned I'd be assigned to someone double my age. But I must apologize in advance for what you are to go through!
[The adults, by now, have started to disperse. And...]
[Ah, yes. He knows this story well. Amongst the many, many tales in which he has played an active role, this one stands out clearly - a bright satellite in a sea of dimmer stars. "Once upon a time..."]
[On that day a young mage was introduced to an unlikely friend, although he hardly knew it at the time. Masked and robed, his cowl raised to hide his snow white hair did he dutifully answer the summons, eager for what knowledge and potential the day might hold. Back then, the young mage was outwardly quiet, stoic, and preferred to work independently, and so did he listen in silence as the request was explained to him. And even as he listened, he felt his hopes ebb...]
[Him...? Play tutor to another youth who has shown no affinity at all for magic? This is the reason he was summoned?]
[A cursory glance has Hades frowning.]
[Although it's true that assisting their fellows has ever been an honorable task, a deeper look confirms his suspicions. He can sense nothing particularly remarkable about this boy. And further, does his elders' request not contradict their own observations? How is he to find opportunity to continue his own magical studies and improve himself when he must instead exhaust his time teaching someone else?]
[But, he can't very well refuse. Their betters have already turned to leave, no doubt to give them ample opportunity to get acquainted with one another. If he completes this task, and does so well, will he be afforded the resources he desires for self-improvement? He doesn't know. And further, he doesn't like it.]
[But his space is being encroached upon and he finds Hythlodaeus standing before him, looking no small amount relieved. And it's after a rather long pause that Hades finally accepts the proffered hand in a shake that's strongly lacking in enthusiasm.]
It's... Hades.
[He glances aside, sighing deeply through his nose.]
And is it not strange for you to apologize in advance? I've yet to teach you anything.
Hades! Delighted. I am called Hythlodaeus. Though I imagine you'll have far worse names in mind with regard to me when this is over!
[A brief laugh accompanies that, and honestly? It's quiet enough, fortunately, to remain an adequate degree of solemnity in this meeting place. It hardly causes a glance, even. As the handshake concludes...]
Is it? I must admit, I am rather fond of getting these things out of the way. Quite simply? I'm all but beyond help. And offering my apologies every time I disappoint would no doubt end up quite a waste of crucial time.
[A smile plays at his lips then, his hooded, and masked head tilting just slightly.]
...I am also quite fond of being direct. So please do tell me, for I shall not be insulted- is there something on my face? You appear to be frowning quite a great deal.
[Yeah. He's going to examine himself. His mask appears to be on straight, his cowl isn't tucked in at any inappropriate areas... and it's clean...]
['Troublesome,' he thinks. Already has this Hythlodaeus decided that any attempts he makes at helping him will fail. For as much as he finds the long stream of chatter irritating, for some reason he finds that simple fact even more irksome. Who is he to decide what he will or won't think, what he can or cannot do? He may believe himself to be a lost cause, but he, Hades, is certainly nothing of the sort!]
[The commentary has him frowning even more deeply, and as Hythlodaeus inspects himself for abnormalities, Hades focuses again until he can make out the amicable color of his soul - it's a soft minty shade of green like one of the potions he completed the day before, and it shimmers pleasantly. It's a fine soul, there's nothing wrong with it, and by all rights there's nothing he can discern otherwise that should be impeding his ability to learn and use magicks.]
Will you not be quiet? I've no use for people who talk so much.
[That's him being direct.]
And besides, our elders would hardly have gone through the trouble if they thought there was no hope for you, so do watch what you say.
[And, more quietly for they are still in a public place:]
That being said, if it's all the same to you, and since you seem all but certain that my lessons will end in failure, I suggest we part ways here. I refuse to teach anyone who won't even put forth the necessary effort to succeed.
[Ah- now he understands what's going on. This youth considers himself too good for this task- and likely considers it a complete waste of his time. He knows, he's sure, that Hades must know that co-operation leads to the most momentous of discoveries. That support facilitates the most brilliant of creations. No man is an island, within their society most of all.
And thus, the reason for their pairing is clear to him now. His lack of anything in a magical regard makes him an abnormality. Hades' attitude, despite his (already storied) skill, makes him one as well. A brief smile plays at his lips- and he nods his head good-naturedly.
He's quite prepared to allow the mistruth about effort and his lack thereof, to slide. For what does something like that matter? This person has clearly decided they want no part of this. Therefore, refuting it is pointless.]
...Oh, how saddening! It would be nothing, I suppose, to ask to be paired with another person. For me, another failing is nothing new. I'm quite certain our elders have an extensive list of backups.
[He turns then, locating his things. One single-handed wand Hades might recognize as beginner's tool- barely even proficient at channeling aether but designed as such for beginners are oft to hurt themselves. And as he moves toward them...]
I imagine this would be your first? Failing, that is. [He half-turns then, this pathetic little wand in hand, a small leather bag brought over his shoulder.] ...Not to worry. I suppose even the best of us have unsightly blemishes somewhere.
[Oh, he knows what he's doing.]
...Aside from master Lahabrea, of course! Would that I could trouble one of his Words for the briefest moment of their time.
[Of course he knows it. He's well aware of the underlying principles of their society, and that working together is in itself perhaps the most good that can be done, and yet... So too does he have his reasons for preferring to study and discover alone, but that is another story for another time.]
[Even still, as Hythlodaeus prattles on, so does Hades straighten into stunned silence, his mouth gaping open just enough to show the whites of his teeth.]
["Nothing"? An "extensive list"?]
[Oh, he can feel his temper flaring! Hades' fists clench at his sides, his brow creasing in irritation, not yet aware that he is being played. Well, of course he is nowhere near the level of an esteemed member of the Convocation! Yet that does not under any circumstances mean he's willing to accept failure and disgrace for something he has not even lifted a finger towards pursuing. And further, if it seems he rejected this request altogether, suppose he is never called upon again! Before Hythlodaeus can take another step away, Hades lurches forward, hoping to cut him off before the elders catch wind of their conversation.]
Now, hold on! I never said that I couldn't teach you.
[He nods his head at the woefully ill-suited wand, hardly sufficient to channel even the most basic of spells.]
Besides, the Words of Lahabrea are in no position to be troubled with such a request. You and I both know this. If our betters think me the one who ought to teach you, then far be it for me to refuse them.
[But that doesn't mean he has to like it.]
Furthermore, if you can at least promise to take this seriously, I have no doubt that you'd all see marked progress even before nightfall. It may be nothing to you, but I do not fail.
[Hook, line and sinker. The smile plays on his lips as he hears Hades close the space between them with a great deal of haste, but his expression turns neutral as he fully regards him.]
Mm, yes. I have no doubt someone like you could teach most people quite a great deal... were you so inclined. I would imagine there would be little that's beyond you, in all truth.
[His soul says so, most certainly. Abd that's far more of a reliable guide than mere words or even actions. And as he turns this little wand over in his hands a few times...]
Perhaps we've miscommunicated. I can assure you in all solemnity, I do not intend to waste either your time or mine. The issue with me is hardly commitment. So. Now we know a little more of each other's motivations...
[At this, Hades sighs, his shoulders slumping dramatically. This is hardly about "like to"! Now it's as if he is left with no choice at all but to accept. How did things ever turn out this way? His frown hasn't budged, but he shifts his weight where he stands, as if preparing to be here awhile yet.]
Are you so convinced that you're unlike most people, that you're "beyond help", as you claim? Or are you merely seeking to annoy me?
[He honestly cannot tell in this moment, but it does seem as if the other youth is trying to reach an agreement with him at the very least. He doesn't answer, but he exhales finally, and he continues:]
Be that as it may, the most obvious answer would be to figure out why it is that you're having so much difficulty with magicks in the first place. Why don't you put that useless wand down and begin by explaining your past experiences?
Oh, I'm quite convinced. And I hardly know you well enough to get anything out of merely annoying you!
[Really, he wants to laugh at that. Was this boy normally so suspicious? Did he truly believe that all of this was a ruse? That even the elders were in on it? He doesn't know. And really. He says he would get nothing out of irritating him, but if he were to be completely honest, he would admit it was somewhat (strangely) entertaining to see such baseless dramatics, as they're so very different from every other person that he'd met.
And at his request, the wand, and his shoulder bag, goes away and on the ground.]
...Of course. Though I'm quite sorry to say it is a rather short story. You are aware, I presume, of most needing little instruction to begin manifesting their capacity with regard to aether manipulation. Some rare few need none, and begin the manipulation of basic elements before they can even speak. ...In my case, It is quite the opposite.
I have no issue with creation magick, I'll have you know! Yet other forms of aether manipulation, such as elemental magicks, healing magicks, not to mention illusion, transformation, and bizarrely enough the creation of familiars are all things most find simple enough to begin, yet their affinity with such comes from practice and learning to build upon their initial foundation.
[A rueful smile comes, and his hand makes its way to rest on his own opposite shoulder.]
... Yet they are quite lost to me. I have not the foundation to begin benefitting from either practice nor learning. I've established, through both means, the how. but it is the doing that comes up painfully short.
The Bureau of the Architect, and his position within it as the chief overseer, had not been his choice. It was something foisted upon him by the Convocation after he had turned down the office of Emet-Selch as some form, he'd imagined back then, of consolation for their wasted effort- and given the unorthodoxy of Hades' elevation to the seat, he had known not to refuse.
But the second he had set foot in the place, he'd loved it. What's more- he, the Convocation, and the applicants found he was good at it, capable of verifying decisions made and amending incorrect verdicts far quicker than his predecessor, and he felt, somewhat, that were it not for Azem and Hades, he would feel that he was born for this role.
Yet something had happened. Something terrible, most certainly. Not by his office- by any of the talented overseers underneath him- but by an applicant. An applicant close to him. Rather close to him, who had seen fit to use his ties in an attempt to force a concept which was not suited for acceptance unto acceptance.
Hythlodaeus knew, well, how important to their kind their concepts were. Hopes and dreams all- a measure of expression- of contribution- most important. Yet he had not expected that sort of behavior. There really was nothing to do but sever those ties immediately.
...And it had truly been awful.
The first time he regretted taking this position, to be frank. And it is as he steps unto a back room, one filled to the brim with papers and proposals and samples- that he spies something looking at him.
It is squat. It is somewhat slimy. It is very green.
It has two bulbous yellow eyes, that appear to take the measure of his soul at a glance, and instill a fear that can only be described as fight or flight. It is holding a knife that glints in the low light of this little room. And it is wearing, of all things, a pointed hat and robe.
There is a sign around its neck. It reads: From the office of Emet-Selch.
And all of the papers... They belong to it. Despite himself, he cannot help but laugh.
Now this was a concept.]
--------
[Some time later- hours, perhaps, or even the best part of a day and a night, he is feeling cheered. Inordinately so, actually- for it was a rare thing- an extremely rare thing, even among the very best of them- that a concept, least of all one with so much development already finalized, needs no revision whatsoever in order to be approved.
And approved it is. He's personally stared at it for about half as long as it has stared at him. He has found no fault in it. No reason that the Marberry concept- for all of its willingness to simply stab its prey to death- should cause any hindrance to the star. In fact, there are quite a few pluses. It does not feed on its prey, for one. It simply wanders off and stabs something else just as brutally when the mood strikes, which leaves corpse after unbothered corpse for scavenger animals which would normally bother settlements.
...What's more, the pages upon pages of notes (Amphibious for underwater stabbing for instance) are highly amusing. He's quite taken with the thing, actually. So it is when that concept is passed for verification to another staff member, and when he begins work on the viewing of something else, something strikes him.
Oh, he shouldn't. But oh, he wants to.
Quietly, he makes a portal. By his Sight... Hades is on the other side of the city. Within his offices, actually. And he is presently alone, with no other colours in close proximity. So. A portal is made. ...And as it opens, on the other side of the city, inside that selfsame office, and Hythlodaeus knows he does not have much time before the magick is detected. Hades, after all, was an authority on sorcery. Of course he would detect the presence of magick that was not his quickly.
So. He springs from it, wrapping his arms, tightly, around the other man- presently hunched over a desk with a multitude of other writings. And he squeezes! And squeezes, and squeezes, almost hard enough to have the other's mask fall off. And brightly:]
[Emet-Selch does in fact notice. Difficult not to when that familiar aetherial signature blooms into being just behind him, not unwelcome but quite unannounced.]
[Hythlodaeus has been in a sorry state for the past week, and it's out of concern that he refrains from immediately launching into a repeat lecture about interrupting him within his own office - and without so much as an appointment, thank you, just as he's told him half a dozen times previously.]
[Little chance of that, had he even been offered warning, for the next thing he knows he has been latched upon and the air all but squeezed from his lungs.]
Hyth—!
[It's a sharp reprimand, interrupted as the other man continues to constrict his arms about his broad shoulders, baring down upon his back until he's practically flattened against his desk with its neatly arranged stacks of assignments. Indeed it is very nearly forceful enough to knock his mask off! And out of requirement and decorum, he tugs it back down the ilm it has risen to properly obscure the planes of his nose. And then comes the grumbling - loud and displeased.]
Enough, I get it! Now unhand me. I can hardly tell if you're thanking me or acting upon some deeply held personal grudge.
[Although he highly suspects it's the former. Hythlodaeus' voice is too bright for it to be the result of anything else. The sun has come out again, and Emet-Selch finds himself no small amount pleased with his labors.]
[Never before had he witnessed Hythlodaeus being so positively downcast and disheartened, and after a few short days of it, Emet-Selch had decided he would find a way - any way within reason - to put an immediate end to it. (And, quite possibly, a few other ways outside of reason.)]
[And thus, was his newest concept born into being. At first he'd lacked any true direction, its creation something of an amalgamation of vague ideas and impressions - certainly not the way in which Emet-Selch preferred to go about his work. And yet, by the time his notes had filled out five bound tomes and begun to overflow into a sixth, he'd found he was rather enjoying himself. It was cheeky, if not strictly academic, and above all he knew the moment Hythlodaeus set his sights upon the creature, he'd be enchanted. He always was. The less dignified the concept, the better.]
Well, how was it?
[Worry not, Hythlodaeus. It's no skin off his nose if his Marberry is turned down for revisions or even rejected outright. Only that it has seemingly managed to cheer up one of his closest friends, even if his entire body will be sore for the rest of the week.]
[A tighter squeeze punctuates his answer, and ...oh dear. He seems to be quite unaware of the strength within his arms- unaware that his archery (hobby, more than anything) affords a certain grip. And it is only getting stronger.
A kiss- a light one, bestowed to the side of Hades' face and above his drawn hood- accompanies. And indeed. The sun is out, he's beaming, and this (quite nicely outfitted, actually) lonely little room is all the warmer for it. Yet he is not hard of hearing. He does hear Hades' request for both space and air, and he does eventually let go.
He takes a few steps backward, his arms moving to accent his every statement.]
At first I found myself wondering what sort of joke was being played, of course. Leaving it in a darkened storeroom without light like that! I'd half-witnessed my life flashing before my eyes. Imagine! The new chief being stabbed to death in a back room by a concept not even a decade in the job.
[His hands find their way to his hips, one then rising to cradle his chin.]
Once I had seen the sign, and saw that this matter of impending doom was something else entirely, I began to question why you'd deign to design something so... unelegant. But it struck me, not even before I'd read the first document, the elegance is in the simplicity. And the attention to detail! From the shape of its feet to the earholes, everything has a purpose. And everything is well-constructed, flawless in execution.
[He's found he's walking while talking, he's that excited. As he speaks, his arms are certainly not stationary- moving, flowing with him- adding to his statements.]
I cannot think of the last thing I assessed that simply does not have problems, nor flaws to weigh against its virtues. And the little hat!
[Sorry, Hades. You're getting grasped again.]
...Your Marberry is perfect. Entirely and utterly. Thank you. I'd say that you have no idea how much I needed it, but I feel that is precisely why you designed it.
[Emet-Selch swears he can hear his bones creak in protest and he's reminded, briefly, of the first time he ever witnessed his companion nock an arrow and draw a bowstring back, taut but trembling. "Quite useless" indeed! Useless enough to have him all but cursing under his breath, because though he does so appreciate the thought, this is actually becoming altogether uncomfortable. It's very nearly a relief when Hythlodaeus finally releases him, and he sits there reeling for a moment, slowly straightening up again as he rubs at his own shoulder.]
[But by then, Hythlodaeus has begun to speak quickly and with great animation, something Emet-Selch would hardly be able to interrupt even should he wish to try. Once again, it feels as if it has been an age since he last witnessed such a thing, the flurry of excitement, the way he barely pauses for breath as he paces about and gesticulates, the words cascading out with straightforward candidness which requires no filter and no evaluation for their choice. And so Emet-Selch is left to watch and listen, and at some point, about midway through, Hythlodaeus will no doubt notice the subtle smile that has crept onto Emet-Selch's face, the one which appears when he's both amused and well content, when he believes that no one else has taken notice. It permeates his very essence, good-humored and serene and quietly, discretely radiant.]
[But then he's being tested again, and again, with such force as to nearly pry him out of his seat.]
Don't be absurd, Hythlodaeus. It's hardly without flaw.
[A protest, and thank the star that his mask and cowl obscure the pink flush that has risen along his face and ears.]
And you needn't thank me. I was merely bored and so thought to revisit some old drafts I'd begun centuries ago. What reason would I have to develop a concept entirely from scratch purely to amuse you?
[What reason, indeed. And even though he'd continue to deny it, he's certainly just revealed his hand. He did create it on a whim - a very recent one. And yes, he did do it all for him with no one else in mind and no other goal (though naturally he'd still not stoop to construct anything poorly). Hythlodaeus has the right of it, and his denial's hardly strong enough to serve as a proper rebuttal. Although it just might, if Hythlodaeus should choose to test his strength out on him again.]
[Finally unnerved, Emet-Selch tugs at one vice-like forearm and makes a shooing motion with his other hand.]
Now, enough. I'm in the middle of a very pressing assignment, and you're making it impossible to breathe, much less concentrate!
Hardly without flaw, he says! My friend, you really are far too modest for your own good. We both know you'd not have submitted it at all were even the slightest detail wanting.
[That Marberry, as he's been all too pleased to record in his assessment, is a perfect being. It is unburdened by the need to sleep or to eat, does not yearn for companionship or have any instinct to pass on its genes. Furthermore, it is not possessive of genetic or evolutionary flaw. It has a single purpose. Murder. And this purpose is beautiful in its simplicity, perfect for its role.
He is not the only assessor. Absolutely not- concepts are viewed by multiple people- and his station as the chief does not mean he can flout the rules. Yet he is most certain any to look at it would come to the same conclusion. But ah- a smile does form when this dear friend speaks of the Marberry being a revisited effort. Funny that- the aether within the ink on the pages of the documents indicates the first notes were started only three days ago.
Still. Far be it from his place to call the most esteemed Emet-Selch untruthful. He lets go once more. (Not without realigning his shoulders with another squeeze. Just for luck.) And as he steps back, reopening his portal... ]
...Much less be working on something new right now.
[This very dear friend, he well knows, just so happens to be neurotic. Of course he'd be obsessing over the submission of a suboptimal concept, should he have made a suboptimal one. And working on anything else at all, with the knowledge he had attached his seat's name to subpar work? Impossible. He'd be fair banging the doors of the bureau down to get the effort- and his documentation- back for his own revision.
Still. A faint smile traces his lips, and he lowers his eyes, about to step through.]
Wonderful. I shall see you later, then?
[Oh, one more thing. He moves forward, quickly, giving him yet another squeeze before retreating, with a small laugh.]
[Oh, Hythlodaeus. It isn't even entirely untruthful. He did retrieve a considerably impressive stack of documents from the depths of his study to see if something within might be salvaged for this personal pet project of his - and wound up rejecting all of them in short order, banishing them back into the neatly organized drawers from whence they were first unearthed.]
[He simply has high standards. How can he be an impartial judge of others if he's unwilling to hold himself to the same level of strictness? He'll not claim perfection, but he will claim efficiency. Marberry has done its job, and done it well from the looks of it. He can see no fault in that, at least.]
Mayhap the problem is that you're far too easily impressed. Still, I thank you for the honest - and prompt - assessment.
[Far too formal, the last of it - a reminder that he's still at work. But there's a softness to his words which would suggest that he isn't truly cross about having his so-called "neurotic" tendencies pointed out to him, or about the unexpected visit besides. In fact, he seems to be looking right at him rather than away, although whatever else may be on his mind, Emet-Selch chooses not to share.]
[Instead he sighs deeply through his nose as he's assaulted for the--no, no he's lost count at this point, and is left to simply bear the brunt of it until Hythlodaeus has gotten all of this hugging and squeezing business out of his system.]
And this is hardly "new". It's the same assignment I told you about last week. The back end of it, in fact, which I should very much like to complete before the Words of Lahabrea begin to congregate outside my door begging for an update.
[Still. He may very well attempt to streamline the process so that he won't be stuck in his office too terribly late tonight. Perhaps it's a bit careless of him, but he'd like to hear for himself how Hythlodaeus is truly faring, now that his spirits seem to have lifted somewhat.]
You will. [He sounds certain of that, even as he returns his attention to his desk, his expression unreadable, though his farewell carries a note of lightness.] Until later, then.
* * *
[And indeed the hour isn't too unreasonable when Emet-Selch finally deems his work complete, satisfied in the results to take his leave of the Capitol. Finding Hythlodaeus proves easy enough - he would, of course, recognize his color even amidst an entire sea of souls. With a snap of his fingers, the scenery about him changes, and he emerges from a portal, no more than a few paces behind.]
[It is with a fond smile that Hythlodaeus departs, and with a warmth in his chest that is not new to him. All he can do is to stay silent about it.
And honestly, when day has turned into dusk and then given way unto evening, when he is within his residence and concentrating on the remnants of his own work, (work not even half as important as that of the vaunted Emet-Selch) cross-legged but comfortable on his floor, he hears the unmistakable sound of a portal opening.
His head bows just slightly in order to reaffix his mask- and he closes his notes. They're gathered, placed off to the side, and then he turns. He's smiling, of course, and there is that feeling in his chest again.
And when his dear friend emerges;]
My, it is early. I'd not expected you for another few hours!
[It's a joke. Of course, Hades was not boorish in the slightest- let alone boorish enough to intrude so late, regardless of the hours he personally kept.]
...I've got wine. And something for you to eat, if you have not already.
Meanwhile, I'd half-expected to be cleaning up your mess should you have chosen to suffocate anyone else on your way home. Full glad am I it did not come to that.
[Also a joke, in his way. To be sure, his shoulders are still notably sore, but then he's also been leaning over his desk for the better part of three days straight, expediting his work on Marberry so that Hythlodaeus wouldn't be left to mope about, feeling guilty for something he (by all of his miserable accounts) hadn't even caused.]
[His gaze makes a quick sweep of his surroundings, and, seeing that Hythlodaeus is still smiling (thank the star for that) and does not seem to be overly busy at the moment, he allows the portal to recede behind him and steps further into the room. Far be it from the first time he's set foot in his friend's home, and yet he still feels a bit out of place, as if he's been afforded a glimpse of something personal he isn't supposed to have seen.]
[But of course he hasn't had a chance to eat anything, he's been busy, and that can wait until he's returned to his own residence besides. ...It's what he'd like to say, but he knows well Hythlodaeus would not have offered if he didn't already know this.]
[A quiet sigh of defeat follows.]
In that case, I'll pour the wine. I'm sure you've plenty more you wish to tell me about your recent discovery.
[And without waiting, he'll go to fetch two glasses. The wine will help clear his head, if nothing else. Then he can truly focus on Hythlodaeus' rambling explanations and not be distracted by the serene curl of his mouth under his mask.]
[Hades has learned a great many things about himself since first coming to know Hythlodaeus. Not the least of these, perhaps, is that he truly does possess a sense of humor (no doubt to the complete surprise of some of his peers). After all, what else can be done but to look for a joke in it - their continuous failed attempts at consumating their little agreement? 'Tis always something. An untimely visit from Azem, an urgent assembly of the Convocation of Fourteen, a half-finished project nearly left forgotten on the eve of a strict and non-negotiable deadline... He cannot even find it within himself to be irritated by these interruptions any longer, though that hardly means he's ceased watching for an appropriate opportunity to present another request for some quiet time together - just the two of them. Alone. Bold-italicized, quotation marks, carefully enunciated - "alone".]
[In the end it arrives rather unexpectedly. Azem is occupied for the evening, and they've no additional company over lunch. And so it is that Hades mentions that he could use a second opinion on a concept he's been working on for some time. So he says, but there is a keen glint in his eye that suggests this is merely pretext. The associated papers are tucked away at home...somewhere or other. 'Twould be preferred and appreciated if Hythlodaeus might find it within himself to agree to simply meet him there and save them both the trouble.]
[That was five bells ago now. Rarely does Hades invite others into his residence, much less his bedroom suite - yet what awaits Hythlodaeus proves tidy and ordered and perhaps even endearingly academic with its rows of bookshelves. The dark curtains have been drawn aside, and warm, vibrant hues from the Amaurotine sunset flood the entire space from all angles, directly contrasting the blue-flamed candles which illuminate a balcony table Hades has set with refreshments - as well as an excellent vintage that he knows to be one of Hythlodaeus's favorites.]
[He does hope it is not too much. Hades is a patient man, yes, yet he is also perceptive enough to know what it is he desires. He thinks himself not the only one as he observes Hythlodaeus for his reaction while also trying not to let his attention linger overlong.]
You needn't gawk so. Just make yourself at home - 'tis what you are always telling me.
[So he says, yet there is a hint of pride in Hades's voice nevertheless. He, too, has always appreciated the view. He is pleased that he finally has the opportunity to share it with him.]
Edited (Just replaced "formality" with "pretext". Couldn't think of the word. :')) 2023-02-17 19:18 (UTC)
[Hythlodaeus had also learned something about himself within the past few days. Conversely to Emet-Selch, he had personally learned that he was capable of feeling irritation. Irritation that, (of course!) had been downplayed into varying comments. Comments which belied the faintest semblance of sarcasm behind them. A series of smiles with only the slightest sense of exasperation lurking behind his quirked lips- for really. He could not display his true feeling. Such was simply not polite, nor was it decent. Not amongst colleagues. Certainly not among friends.
...Yet even then, even when all distractions had been and been and gone, there was more than a slight feeling of trepidation which honestly, he had not felt before. A nervousness that he had not felt with any of his previous partners, despite the fact that in his sight, they wore this very man's face. A feeling of slight unease for the fact that Hades was so so very important to him, and that things, honestly, should be perfect, lest Hades come to his senses and flee. That feeling, that unease, that nervousness was in direct contention with something else. Something that...
...Well. Put simply, and decently, these past few moons had become the longest dry spell of his adult life. He had found himself distracted at certain points at work and at home. Vaguely listless, as well- devoting most of his thought to a certain act of discovery he both was finding himself growing all the more impatient for, as well as finding his fears amplified with the passage of time.
A terrible state of affairs, truly. And one hardly befitting someone whose only thoughts were supposed to be for the star.
So when the invitation came at the bureau and delivered mid-tending to a certain office Marberry, he had found himself in agreement before Hades had even completed his proposal. And here he finds himself- in a charming apartment, most certainly, given the other's propensity for interesting furnishings and storage- yet such a perplexingly small one. Too small for the mage known as Hades, for certain. An insult to the figure known as Emet-Selch.
He had asked, once, about it. And he had been shown exactly why Hades would not entertain the thought of moving somewhere better equipped for his collections. And really...
The view was a sentimentality, yes. But the way of which Amaurot's spires so perfectly framed the setting sun. How marvelous the night sky looked complimented by the glows of millions upon millions of the city's lights, how the stars themselves peeked downward as if in accompaniment to this utter marvel of a city...
It was a sentimentality. But it was a sentimentality worth indulging.
Yet even that, to him, is not even half as majestic as the man that stands before him maskless, so very comfortable in this surrounding and environment formed by his own hand.]
...
[He says nothing. Yet he should hope that as the door to the wider complex closes behind him and as he removes his mask, that Hades would find the delight viewable in his eyes as answer enough.
He approaches him with easy strides- a gait that he hoped would not betray the fact that his heart feels already like it is pounding in his throat. And he raises his arm, running his fingers along the other's smooth chin before pulling it down to meet his lips. ]
[Hades finds something viewable within them, surely, for as the mask is set aside and Hythlodaeus crosses the room towards him, his mouth curves into a rare smile.]
[On the surface, yes, perhaps to some he would appear majestic and serene in this moment, yet neither is he immune to nerves. He has seen Hythlodaeus like this some number of times before - his face unobscured, radiant; his eyes aglow with such emotion. And yet on each occasion the vision of him causes something within Hades to stir, ticklish and fluttering as if an entire colony of petalouda has risen up within his breast. Hythlodaeus has always been admired, appreciated, fondly cherished... yet despite that there are days when Hades can scarcely believe they've become this.]
Well? If you're tired, I suppose I could be troubled to prepare a proper dinner.
[An offer, actually; a sincere one.]
[His breath quivers when Hythlodaeus traces his chin, and then he is tugged down some few ilms, his lips soft and indulgent as he takes Hythlodaeus into what he at least had planned to remain a slow and certain kiss. Hades reaches for him then, arms wrapping themselves loosely about his waist.]
[Indeed, their kiss is both slow and certain. For his own part, His arms find themselves hooking around the other's torso, angled upward to cross at the wrists, fingers finding purchase at the nape of the other man's neck- the tips of which nestling in the loose, thick strands of purest white hair they can reach.
Given this particularly close and intimate position, he can feel Hades' heart's slow, rhythmic thud against his chest- and he is certain that in turn, his own can be felt. It is reassuring, frankly. The fact that such a person- such a vision- is just as human as he. And as he pulls away from the kiss, as he stands upon his toes to touch his forehead against the other man's...]
No, No need to trouble yourself. All that I require for the moment is you.
[And all that he requires for a good few hours, were they about to finally catch a break. He brings himself back down to his true height and trails his hands down Hades' robe. Despite the thickness of the material, there is indication of so very much. A powerful build, yes. Far more suited for a warrior than a mage- yet a graceful stature that is not so commonly attained. There is an ease too- a relaxed stance which would indicate that this moment is rare indeed- One of the few times that Hades is utterly relaxed.
He smiles upward at him then, his hand rising once again to curl his fingers against the other man's well-defined cheek.]
I trust you have no issue with us partaking of the wine later, as well?
[Gooseflesh rises beneath Hythlodaeus's fingers, yet the sensation proves both pleasant and intimate. Hades sees no reason to complain about this manner of affection. Pressed chest-to-chest, he can indeed feel the slightly erratic vibration of Hythlodaeus's heartbeat, so very at odds for all that he seems confident and assured from the outside.]
[He allows his grasp upon him to sink in somewhat, finding the curve of his spine, the fine jut of his hips. His own eyes slide shut as he exhales softly, accepting the light pressure of a forehead touched to his, the way the loose wisps that always frame Hythlodaeus's face tickle his own.]
And here I was hoping that you might require only me for a few spans longer than that.
["Hoping". For there is a wryness present, knowing this is not the first time they have attempted as much, and it is unlikely to be the last. Still, Hades is not one to leave a job half-finished, nor to simply give up when there is something worth striving for. Hythlodaeus is easily one such something, and one which is like to needle at his mind until the matter between them is properly and fully explored. For indeed, the touch that trails his robed torso is - for lack of a better word - wanting. And Hades does so wish to indulge it.]
The wine, at least, is unlikely to go to waste whensoever we choose to partake of it. You on the other hand...
[He takes Hythlodaeus's wrist gently, more suggestion than command as he draws it some few ilms towards his lips. Warmth is like to ghost over the other man's flesh as he presses a kiss to the delicate skin there, working his way up to the base of his palm, the flat edge of his hand, the backs of his fingers. Hades is careful in what he does, his eyelids grown heavy, yet his gaze is still golden-bright beneath his dark lashes.]
[Chance would be a fine thing indeed. The wryness of Hades' comment is not lost upon him, (How could it be, when the remarks the sorcerer had seen fit to voice were astute and hilarious both- a very great source of delight) yet other than a brief, meant, smile and the quirking of his lips in an indication that he wants to say something- he does not comment upon it.
Hythlodaeus was far from the superstitious type. Yet even then, it hardly seems wise to tempt fate. Or to invite an inevitable knock on the door from some messenger, tasked with taking one of the pair of them away. Perhaps they could ward away the inevitability just by a few moments by not inviting it upon them. Perhaps.
That, and he finds himself quietly taken aback by the feeling of Hades' lips upon the sensitive inside of his wrist- the mere sight of the other man- so very barefaced yet still so very stately- not to mention so very, very beautiful at this moment in time, with half lidded golden eyes as bright as any of the windows in any of the buildings around them- bestowing such affection, such devotion, upon what he views as merely a hand.
How, he wonders, is this happening? That so great a person, so wonderful a soul could find affection in him...
He pushes the thought aside. And he lowers his eyes to Hades, finally speaking.]
I fear these past few nights have me at my limit.
[A frank confession, most certainly. And one that comes with a little push- telling, really, to a large sofa. It is only very little. More a suggestion than anything with real force behind it, yet he would hope Hades would be responsive. Should he be, he would have the other man sit upon it, and straddle him soon thereafter. Then he would arch his head to run his lips across the nape of his neck in the same manner his hand had been so treated.
And perhaps more breathily than he would have liked, yet lowly, carefully:]
Some afternoons, especially quiet ones, I've wanted to abandon the bureau altogether and find you at the capitol.
[A brief burst of warm air should come soon after, against the shell of Hades' ear. It should be clear Hythlodaeus has found some amusement in the thought- even if not the courage to actually do it- for, well, obvious reasons.]
Can you imagine how terrible it would be? I'd be caught, of course. Likely before even getting through the main hallway. And explaining my reasons for visiting would most certainly be something.
[When Hythlodaeus does at last see fit to reply, Hades's eyes lift to his face, his countenance shifting visibly to something more attentive, more serious. He does not need to ask what manner of "limit" has been reached, even before he feels the subtle nudge of Hythlodaeus's own form against his.]
[And yet he is left to wonder at the confession, for outside of fictious works, he has never before heard such a thing - and certainly not about himself. Before Hythlodaeus - and all of his impish remarks, his gratuitous compliments, his...flirting - he had never thought he could be a particularly alluring person, nor had he ever desired to be. Now, however, such knowledge is invigorating as well as dangerous. That he could have such an impact upon another... He would like very much to see where that leads them.]
[So does Hades allow himself, after some consideration, to be herded backwards across the room he knows well, the brush of a cushion behind him letting him know when it is safe and appropriate to be seated. ...and then he is joined.]
[Hades is not a slight man, and Hythlodaeus settled over his legs proves far more comfortable than it is burdensome. He can feel the heat of him through their robes, and when Hythlodaeus leans up to run his lips over the exposed skin of his neck, Hades feels his shoulders pressing against the plush back of the couch, his head tipping to one side to allow Hythlodaeus his amusement. "Allow", he thinks, as if such affection does not stir something awake from within him, as if Hythlodaeus cannot feel the nervous bob of his throat beneath the trail of his lips, and as if the warmth at his ear doesn't conjure a shiver of what is certainly not fear, but obvious anticipation.]
[A hand supports Hythlodaeus's back, balancing them - yet the other traces a path along the underside of his jaw, tucking beneath his ear to toy at the loose, fine hairs where the weave of his braid first begins; his fingers run gently over the base of his scalp. Hades says nothing for a long time, yet his gaze remains fixed upon him like a pair of twin spotlights. And at last, he coaxes Hythlodaeus's face back up to meet those eyes.]
Well can I imagine it. After Azem's latest censure, the capitol has had little patience for unannounced visitors. Yet there's no story to be had from a sound defeat. Why don't you tell me instead what you'd have done had you found me alone in my office?
[There's a lighter hook there at the end, a slight rise in pitch - an invitation. That had been what Hythlodaeus wished for, had it not? Hypothetically speaking. Hades falls silent, choosing his course.]
[He chooses to be kind.]
...then I will be pleased to show you how I would have answered.
Oh- nothing. Nothing that should happen in such a place, anyway. Much less anything that could be uttered here- in such esteemed company.
[His reply is a quick one. It is an easy one- yet the suggestion behind it is something that should need no further elaboration. Yet he was invited to speak freely, was he not? Invited to do that and so much more. And he has chosen more. So the closure of the subject verbally, at least is playful- accompanied by an expression that signifies feigned coyness- and more than a little bit of mirth.]
However... I do think that showing you would be perfectly appropriate.
[It cannot help but play through his mind that this act of showing likely would not be completed. Once again, a developing situation, unprecedented disaster or suitably grievous affair would force both of them to part. That the both of them would be left wanting once again, called to something or other which while important, would be a far cry from what they wanted to do with this evening. That this evening, like the remnants of so many other evenings would be spent in the service of the star, or friends, or this, or that... and certainly not in service to themselves.
Yet. He finds, as his hands trail the other's strong thighs underneath his robe- which show no sign of undue strain by the act of taking his own not-so-slight weight upon them- he finds his body has absolutely no intention of sharing the same pessimism of his mind. Just that single act- of feeling strong, warm flesh underneath the folds of the other man's robe spurs him forward- to trail his hands up beyond the hip and upward against the rigid muscle that makes the other man's form as impressive, as unmoving, as magnificent, truly- as it is. He quiets as he allows his questing fingertips to explore what is only half-familiar to him, taking note of the curvature, the sheer remarkability of each of the areas that make up the mages' form.
Yet even with a journey so vast, so very well-explored and so very, very, appreciated, it does come to an end. His fingers find themselves curling into the hood of the other man's robe- holding fast as he pulls him forward by it into another long kiss.
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☾ hades | 「 meeting | adventures in akademia anyder 」
And far be it for that young mage to refuse such a request. Whether he had abided willingly or been asked to simply quiet any potential complaints and see was a detail long lost. But he had arrived. He had met with three elders, each of them polite and each of them charming in their own ways, and the point of this little meeting had been posited.
That this mage had a great deal of skill for one so young. A desire to grow and to improve where most, given such talents limited by relative age, would be tempted to openly brag or to think themselves above further instruction. That attitude would perhaps be something helpful to others. That perhaps he might put it to use on someone who- conversely to him- had not shown very much natural affinity at all.
And thus, Hythlodaeus had been introduced.
He's of a similar age to Hades, looking perhaps fifteen- as everyone else- attired in a plain black robe, his hood drawn upward. He varies just slightly by the presence of lilac hair curling at his jaw- unfortunately visible via the awkward virtue of being too short to tie behind his head, and too long to conceal.
...And oh, he appears to be a cheerful one. As he's introduced, he strides forward- offering his hand to shake immediately as he confirms his identity with his greeting. And immediately:]
Oh, thank goodness. I had been half concerned I'd be assigned to someone double my age. But I must apologize in advance for what you are to go through!
[The adults, by now, have started to disperse. And...]
May I know your name?
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[On that day a young mage was introduced to an unlikely friend, although he hardly knew it at the time. Masked and robed, his cowl raised to hide his snow white hair did he dutifully answer the summons, eager for what knowledge and potential the day might hold. Back then, the young mage was outwardly quiet, stoic, and preferred to work independently, and so did he listen in silence as the request was explained to him. And even as he listened, he felt his hopes ebb...]
[Him...? Play tutor to another youth who has shown no affinity at all for magic? This is the reason he was summoned?]
[A cursory glance has Hades frowning.]
[Although it's true that assisting their fellows has ever been an honorable task, a deeper look confirms his suspicions. He can sense nothing particularly remarkable about this boy. And further, does his elders' request not contradict their own observations? How is he to find opportunity to continue his own magical studies and improve himself when he must instead exhaust his time teaching someone else?]
[But, he can't very well refuse. Their betters have already turned to leave, no doubt to give them ample opportunity to get acquainted with one another. If he completes this task, and does so well, will he be afforded the resources he desires for self-improvement? He doesn't know. And further, he doesn't like it.]
[But his space is being encroached upon and he finds Hythlodaeus standing before him, looking no small amount relieved. And it's after a rather long pause that Hades finally accepts the proffered hand in a shake that's strongly lacking in enthusiasm.]
It's... Hades.
[He glances aside, sighing deeply through his nose.]
And is it not strange for you to apologize in advance? I've yet to teach you anything.
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[A brief laugh accompanies that, and honestly? It's quiet enough, fortunately, to remain an adequate degree of solemnity in this meeting place. It hardly causes a glance, even. As the handshake concludes...]
Is it? I must admit, I am rather fond of getting these things out of the way. Quite simply? I'm all but beyond help. And offering my apologies every time I disappoint would no doubt end up quite a waste of crucial time.
[A smile plays at his lips then, his hooded, and masked head tilting just slightly.]
...I am also quite fond of being direct. So please do tell me, for I shall not be insulted- is there something on my face? You appear to be frowning quite a great deal.
[Yeah. He's going to examine himself. His mask appears to be on straight, his cowl isn't tucked in at any inappropriate areas... and it's clean...]
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['Troublesome,' he thinks. Already has this Hythlodaeus decided that any attempts he makes at helping him will fail. For as much as he finds the long stream of chatter irritating, for some reason he finds that simple fact even more irksome. Who is he to decide what he will or won't think, what he can or cannot do? He may believe himself to be a lost cause, but he, Hades, is certainly nothing of the sort!]
[The commentary has him frowning even more deeply, and as Hythlodaeus inspects himself for abnormalities, Hades focuses again until he can make out the amicable color of his soul - it's a soft minty shade of green like one of the potions he completed the day before, and it shimmers pleasantly. It's a fine soul, there's nothing wrong with it, and by all rights there's nothing he can discern otherwise that should be impeding his ability to learn and use magicks.]
Will you not be quiet? I've no use for people who talk so much.
[That's him being direct.]
And besides, our elders would hardly have gone through the trouble if they thought there was no hope for you, so do watch what you say.
[And, more quietly for they are still in a public place:]
That being said, if it's all the same to you, and since you seem all but certain that my lessons will end in failure, I suggest we part ways here. I refuse to teach anyone who won't even put forth the necessary effort to succeed.
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[Ah- now he understands what's going on. This youth considers himself too good for this task- and likely considers it a complete waste of his time. He knows, he's sure, that Hades must know that co-operation leads to the most momentous of discoveries. That support facilitates the most brilliant of creations. No man is an island, within their society most of all.
And thus, the reason for their pairing is clear to him now. His lack of anything in a magical regard makes him an abnormality. Hades' attitude, despite his (already storied) skill, makes him one as well. A brief smile plays at his lips- and he nods his head good-naturedly.
He's quite prepared to allow the mistruth about effort and his lack thereof, to slide. For what does something like that matter? This person has clearly decided they want no part of this. Therefore, refuting it is pointless.]
...Oh, how saddening! It would be nothing, I suppose, to ask to be paired with another person. For me, another failing is nothing new. I'm quite certain our elders have an extensive list of backups.
[He turns then, locating his things. One single-handed wand Hades might recognize as beginner's tool- barely even proficient at channeling aether but designed as such for beginners are oft to hurt themselves. And as he moves toward them...]
I imagine this would be your first? Failing, that is. [He half-turns then, this pathetic little wand in hand, a small leather bag brought over his shoulder.] ...Not to worry. I suppose even the best of us have unsightly blemishes somewhere.
[Oh, he knows what he's doing.]
...Aside from master Lahabrea, of course! Would that I could trouble one of his Words for the briefest moment of their time.
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[Even still, as Hythlodaeus prattles on, so does Hades straighten into stunned silence, his mouth gaping open just enough to show the whites of his teeth.]
["Nothing"? An "extensive list"?]
[Oh, he can feel his temper flaring! Hades' fists clench at his sides, his brow creasing in irritation, not yet aware that he is being played. Well, of course he is nowhere near the level of an esteemed member of the Convocation! Yet that does not under any circumstances mean he's willing to accept failure and disgrace for something he has not even lifted a finger towards pursuing. And further, if it seems he rejected this request altogether, suppose he is never called upon again! Before Hythlodaeus can take another step away, Hades lurches forward, hoping to cut him off before the elders catch wind of their conversation.]
Now, hold on! I never said that I couldn't teach you.
[He nods his head at the woefully ill-suited wand, hardly sufficient to channel even the most basic of spells.]
Besides, the Words of Lahabrea are in no position to be troubled with such a request. You and I both know this. If our betters think me the one who ought to teach you, then far be it for me to refuse them.
[But that doesn't mean he has to like it.]
Furthermore, if you can at least promise to take this seriously, I have no doubt that you'd all see marked progress even before nightfall. It may be nothing to you, but I do not fail.
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Mm, yes. I have no doubt someone like you could teach most people quite a great deal... were you so inclined. I would imagine there would be little that's beyond you, in all truth.
[His soul says so, most certainly. Abd that's far more of a reliable guide than mere words or even actions. And as he turns this little wand over in his hands a few times...]
Perhaps we've miscommunicated. I can assure you in all solemnity, I do not intend to waste either your time or mine. The issue with me is hardly commitment. So. Now we know a little more of each other's motivations...
[A little half-turn of that wand again.]
Would you like to try?
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Are you so convinced that you're unlike most people, that you're "beyond help", as you claim? Or are you merely seeking to annoy me?
[He honestly cannot tell in this moment, but it does seem as if the other youth is trying to reach an agreement with him at the very least. He doesn't answer, but he exhales finally, and he continues:]
Be that as it may, the most obvious answer would be to figure out why it is that you're having so much difficulty with magicks in the first place. Why don't you put that useless wand down and begin by explaining your past experiences?
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[Really, he wants to laugh at that. Was this boy normally so suspicious? Did he truly believe that all of this was a ruse? That even the elders were in on it? He doesn't know. And really. He says he would get nothing out of irritating him, but if he were to be completely honest, he would admit it was somewhat (strangely) entertaining to see such baseless dramatics, as they're so very different from every other person that he'd met.
And at his request, the wand, and his shoulder bag, goes away and on the ground.]
...Of course. Though I'm quite sorry to say it is a rather short story. You are aware, I presume, of most needing little instruction to begin manifesting their capacity with regard to aether manipulation. Some rare few need none, and begin the manipulation of basic elements before they can even speak. ...In my case, It is quite the opposite.
I have no issue with creation magick, I'll have you know! Yet other forms of aether manipulation, such as elemental magicks, healing magicks, not to mention illusion, transformation, and bizarrely enough the creation of familiars are all things most find simple enough to begin, yet their affinity with such comes from practice and learning to build upon their initial foundation.
[A rueful smile comes, and his hand makes its way to rest on his own opposite shoulder.]
... Yet they are quite lost to me. I have not the foundation to begin benefitting from either practice nor learning. I've established, through both means, the how. but it is the doing that comes up painfully short.
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I will raise you one.
since his eyebrows are protected by that mask, Fine!
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today hyth found his favourite thing in the world.
now he really is playing with fire.
burn baby, burn
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And so it begins.
so it does!
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He's going to recite this back to him when they elope for real I hope you realize.
eloping yes yes yes
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☾ hades | 「 portal tag 」
The Bureau of the Architect, and his position within it as the chief overseer, had not been his choice. It was something foisted upon him by the Convocation after he had turned down the office of Emet-Selch as some form, he'd imagined back then, of consolation for their wasted effort- and given the unorthodoxy of Hades' elevation to the seat, he had known not to refuse.
But the second he had set foot in the place, he'd loved it. What's more- he, the Convocation, and the applicants found he was good at it, capable of verifying decisions made and amending incorrect verdicts far quicker than his predecessor, and he felt, somewhat, that were it not for Azem and Hades, he would feel that he was born for this role.
Yet something had happened.
Something terrible, most certainly. Not by his office- by any of the talented overseers underneath him- but by an applicant. An applicant close to him. Rather close to him, who had seen fit to use his ties in an attempt to force a concept which was not suited for acceptance unto acceptance.
Hythlodaeus knew, well, how important to their kind their concepts were. Hopes and dreams all- a measure of expression- of contribution- most important. Yet he had not expected that sort of behavior. There really was nothing to do but sever those ties immediately.
...And it had truly been awful.
The first time he regretted taking this position, to be frank. And it is as he steps unto a back room, one filled to the brim with papers and proposals and samples- that he spies something looking at him.
It is squat.
It is somewhat slimy.
It is very green.
It has two bulbous yellow eyes, that appear to take the measure of his soul at a glance, and instill a fear that can only be described as fight or flight. It is holding a knife that glints in the low light of this little room. And it is wearing, of all things, a pointed hat and robe.
There is a sign around its neck.
It reads: From the office of Emet-Selch.
And all of the papers...
They belong to it. Despite himself, he cannot help but laugh.
Now this was a concept.]
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[Some time later- hours, perhaps, or even the best part of a day and a night, he is feeling cheered. Inordinately so, actually- for it was a rare thing- an extremely rare thing, even among the very best of them- that a concept, least of all one with so much development already finalized, needs no revision whatsoever in order to be approved.
And approved it is. He's personally stared at it for about half as long as it has stared at him. He has found no fault in it. No reason that the Marberry concept- for all of its willingness to simply stab its prey to death- should cause any hindrance to the star. In fact, there are quite a few pluses. It does not feed on its prey, for one. It simply wanders off and stabs something else just as brutally when the mood strikes, which leaves corpse after unbothered corpse for scavenger animals which would normally bother settlements.
...What's more, the pages upon pages of notes (Amphibious for underwater stabbing for instance) are highly amusing. He's quite taken with the thing, actually. So it is when that concept is passed for verification to another staff member, and when he begins work on the viewing of something else, something strikes him.
Oh, he shouldn't.
But oh, he wants to.
Quietly, he makes a portal. By his Sight... Hades is on the other side of the city. Within his offices, actually. And he is presently alone, with no other colours in close proximity. So. A portal is made. ...And as it opens, on the other side of the city, inside that selfsame office, and Hythlodaeus knows he does not have much time before the magick is detected. Hades, after all, was an authority on sorcery. Of course he would detect the presence of magick that was not his quickly.
So. He springs from it, wrapping his arms, tightly, around the other man- presently hunched over a desk with a multitude of other writings. And he squeezes! And squeezes, and squeezes, almost hard enough to have the other's mask fall off. And brightly:]
For the gift you bestowed upon me.
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[Hythlodaeus has been in a sorry state for the past week, and it's out of concern that he refrains from immediately launching into a repeat lecture about interrupting him within his own office - and without so much as an appointment, thank you, just as he's told him half a dozen times previously.]
[Little chance of that, had he even been offered warning, for the next thing he knows he has been latched upon and the air all but squeezed from his lungs.]
Hyth—!
[It's a sharp reprimand, interrupted as the other man continues to constrict his arms about his broad shoulders, baring down upon his back until he's practically flattened against his desk with its neatly arranged stacks of assignments. Indeed it is very nearly forceful enough to knock his mask off! And out of requirement and decorum, he tugs it back down the ilm it has risen to properly obscure the planes of his nose. And then comes the grumbling - loud and displeased.]
Enough, I get it! Now unhand me. I can hardly tell if you're thanking me or acting upon some deeply held personal grudge.
[Although he highly suspects it's the former. Hythlodaeus' voice is too bright for it to be the result of anything else. The sun has come out again, and Emet-Selch finds himself no small amount pleased with his labors.]
[Never before had he witnessed Hythlodaeus being so positively downcast and disheartened, and after a few short days of it, Emet-Selch had decided he would find a way - any way within reason - to put an immediate end to it. (And, quite possibly, a few other ways outside of reason.)]
[And thus, was his newest concept born into being. At first he'd lacked any true direction, its creation something of an amalgamation of vague ideas and impressions - certainly not the way in which Emet-Selch preferred to go about his work. And yet, by the time his notes had filled out five bound tomes and begun to overflow into a sixth, he'd found he was rather enjoying himself. It was cheeky, if not strictly academic, and above all he knew the moment Hythlodaeus set his sights upon the creature, he'd be enchanted. He always was. The less dignified the concept, the better.]
Well, how was it?
[Worry not, Hythlodaeus. It's no skin off his nose if his Marberry is turned down for revisions or even rejected outright. Only that it has seemingly managed to cheer up one of his closest friends, even if his entire body will be sore for the rest of the week.]
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[A tighter squeeze punctuates his answer, and ...oh dear. He seems to be quite unaware of the strength within his arms- unaware that his archery (hobby, more than anything) affords a certain grip. And it is only getting stronger.
A kiss- a light one, bestowed to the side of Hades' face and above his drawn hood- accompanies. And indeed. The sun is out, he's beaming, and this (quite nicely outfitted, actually) lonely little room is all the warmer for it. Yet he is not hard of hearing. He does hear Hades' request for both space and air, and he does eventually let go.
He takes a few steps backward, his arms moving to accent his every statement.]
At first I found myself wondering what sort of joke was being played, of course. Leaving it in a darkened storeroom without light like that! I'd half-witnessed my life flashing before my eyes. Imagine! The new chief being stabbed to death in a back room by a concept not even a decade in the job.
[His hands find their way to his hips, one then rising to cradle his chin.]
Once I had seen the sign, and saw that this matter of impending doom was something else entirely, I began to question why you'd deign to design something so... unelegant. But it struck me, not even before I'd read the first document, the elegance is in the simplicity. And the attention to detail! From the shape of its feet to the earholes, everything has a purpose. And everything is well-constructed, flawless in execution.
[He's found he's walking while talking, he's that excited. As he speaks, his arms are certainly not stationary- moving, flowing with him- adding to his statements.]
I cannot think of the last thing I assessed that simply does not have problems, nor flaws to weigh against its virtues. And the little hat!
[Sorry, Hades. You're getting grasped again.]
...Your Marberry is perfect. Entirely and utterly. Thank you. I'd say that you have no idea how much I needed it, but I feel that is precisely why you designed it.
[Another hard squeeze.]
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[But by then, Hythlodaeus has begun to speak quickly and with great animation, something Emet-Selch would hardly be able to interrupt even should he wish to try. Once again, it feels as if it has been an age since he last witnessed such a thing, the flurry of excitement, the way he barely pauses for breath as he paces about and gesticulates, the words cascading out with straightforward candidness which requires no filter and no evaluation for their choice. And so Emet-Selch is left to watch and listen, and at some point, about midway through, Hythlodaeus will no doubt notice the subtle smile that has crept onto Emet-Selch's face, the one which appears when he's both amused and well content, when he believes that no one else has taken notice. It permeates his very essence, good-humored and serene and quietly, discretely radiant.]
[But then he's being tested again, and again, with such force as to nearly pry him out of his seat.]
Don't be absurd, Hythlodaeus. It's hardly without flaw.
[A protest, and thank the star that his mask and cowl obscure the pink flush that has risen along his face and ears.]
And you needn't thank me. I was merely bored and so thought to revisit some old drafts I'd begun centuries ago. What reason would I have to develop a concept entirely from scratch purely to amuse you?
[What reason, indeed. And even though he'd continue to deny it, he's certainly just revealed his hand. He did create it on a whim - a very recent one. And yes, he did do it all for him with no one else in mind and no other goal (though naturally he'd still not stoop to construct anything poorly). Hythlodaeus has the right of it, and his denial's hardly strong enough to serve as a proper rebuttal. Although it just might, if Hythlodaeus should choose to test his strength out on him again.]
[Finally unnerved, Emet-Selch tugs at one vice-like forearm and makes a shooing motion with his other hand.]
Now, enough. I'm in the middle of a very pressing assignment, and you're making it impossible to breathe, much less concentrate!
We can discuss this in far more depth later.
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[That Marberry, as he's been all too pleased to record in his assessment, is a perfect being. It is unburdened by the need to sleep or to eat, does not yearn for companionship or have any instinct to pass on its genes. Furthermore, it is not possessive of genetic or evolutionary flaw. It has a single purpose. Murder. And this purpose is beautiful in its simplicity, perfect for its role.
He is not the only assessor. Absolutely not- concepts are viewed by multiple people- and his station as the chief does not mean he can flout the rules. Yet he is most certain any to look at it would come to the same conclusion. But ah- a smile does form when this dear friend speaks of the Marberry being a revisited effort. Funny that- the aether within the ink on the pages of the documents indicates the first notes were started only three days ago.
Still. Far be it from his place to call the most esteemed Emet-Selch untruthful. He lets go once more. (Not without realigning his shoulders with another squeeze. Just for luck.) And as he steps back, reopening his portal... ]
...Much less be working on something new right now.
[This very dear friend, he well knows, just so happens to be neurotic. Of course he'd be obsessing over the submission of a suboptimal concept, should he have made a suboptimal one. And working on anything else at all, with the knowledge he had attached his seat's name to subpar work? Impossible. He'd be fair banging the doors of the bureau down to get the effort- and his documentation- back for his own revision.
Still. A faint smile traces his lips, and he lowers his eyes, about to step through.]
Wonderful. I shall see you later, then?
[Oh, one more thing. He moves forward, quickly, giving him yet another squeeze before retreating, with a small laugh.]
Until then.
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[Oh, Hythlodaeus. It isn't even entirely untruthful. He did retrieve a considerably impressive stack of documents from the depths of his study to see if something within might be salvaged for this personal pet project of his - and wound up rejecting all of them in short order, banishing them back into the neatly organized drawers from whence they were first unearthed.]
[He simply has high standards. How can he be an impartial judge of others if he's unwilling to hold himself to the same level of strictness? He'll not claim perfection, but he will claim efficiency. Marberry has done its job, and done it well from the looks of it. He can see no fault in that, at least.]
Mayhap the problem is that you're far too easily impressed. Still, I thank you for the honest - and prompt - assessment.
[Far too formal, the last of it - a reminder that he's still at work. But there's a softness to his words which would suggest that he isn't truly cross about having his so-called "neurotic" tendencies pointed out to him, or about the unexpected visit besides. In fact, he seems to be looking right at him rather than away, although whatever else may be on his mind, Emet-Selch chooses not to share.]
[Instead he sighs deeply through his nose as he's assaulted for the--no, no he's lost count at this point, and is left to simply bear the brunt of it until Hythlodaeus has gotten all of this hugging and squeezing business out of his system.]
And this is hardly "new". It's the same assignment I told you about last week. The back end of it, in fact, which I should very much like to complete before the Words of Lahabrea begin to congregate outside my door begging for an update.
[Still. He may very well attempt to streamline the process so that he won't be stuck in his office too terribly late tonight. Perhaps it's a bit careless of him, but he'd like to hear for himself how Hythlodaeus is truly faring, now that his spirits seem to have lifted somewhat.]
You will. [He sounds certain of that, even as he returns his attention to his desk, his expression unreadable, though his farewell carries a note of lightness.] Until later, then.
[And indeed the hour isn't too unreasonable when Emet-Selch finally deems his work complete, satisfied in the results to take his leave of the Capitol. Finding Hythlodaeus proves easy enough - he would, of course, recognize his color even amidst an entire sea of souls. With a snap of his fingers, the scenery about him changes, and he emerges from a portal, no more than a few paces behind.]
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And honestly, when day has turned into dusk and then given way unto evening, when he is within his residence and concentrating on the remnants of his own work, (work not even half as important as that of the vaunted Emet-Selch) cross-legged but comfortable on his floor, he hears the unmistakable sound of a portal opening.
His head bows just slightly in order to reaffix his mask- and he closes his notes. They're gathered, placed off to the side, and then he turns. He's smiling, of course, and there is that feeling in his chest again.
And when his dear friend emerges;]
My, it is early. I'd not expected you for another few hours!
[It's a joke. Of course, Hades was not boorish in the slightest- let alone boorish enough to intrude so late, regardless of the hours he personally kept.]
...I've got wine. And something for you to eat, if you have not already.
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[Also a joke, in his way. To be sure, his shoulders are still notably sore, but then he's also been leaning over his desk for the better part of three days straight, expediting his work on Marberry so that Hythlodaeus wouldn't be left to mope about, feeling guilty for something he (by all of his miserable accounts) hadn't even caused.]
[His gaze makes a quick sweep of his surroundings, and, seeing that Hythlodaeus is still smiling (thank the star for that) and does not seem to be overly busy at the moment, he allows the portal to recede behind him and steps further into the room. Far be it from the first time he's set foot in his friend's home, and yet he still feels a bit out of place, as if he's been afforded a glimpse of something personal he isn't supposed to have seen.]
[But of course he hasn't had a chance to eat anything, he's been busy, and that can wait until he's returned to his own residence besides. ...It's what he'd like to say, but he knows well Hythlodaeus would not have offered if he didn't already know this.]
[A quiet sigh of defeat follows.]
In that case, I'll pour the wine. I'm sure you've plenty more you wish to tell me about your recent discovery.
[And without waiting, he'll go to fetch two glasses. The wine will help clear his head, if nothing else. Then he can truly focus on Hythlodaeus' rambling explanations and not be distracted by the serene curl of his mouth under his mask.]
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Here we go!
cracks knuckles!
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I was wondering when you'd use that icon.
hades in pjs is perfect usage tbh
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♊︎ Hythlodaeus | 「 beginning | what I truly desire to do, I shall dare attempt. 」
[In the end it arrives rather unexpectedly. Azem is occupied for the evening, and they've no additional company over lunch. And so it is that Hades mentions that he could use a second opinion on a concept he's been working on for some time. So he says, but there is a keen glint in his eye that suggests this is merely pretext. The associated papers are tucked away at home...somewhere or other. 'Twould be preferred and appreciated if Hythlodaeus might find it within himself to agree to simply meet him there and save them both the trouble.]
[That was five bells ago now. Rarely does Hades invite others into his residence, much less his bedroom suite - yet what awaits Hythlodaeus proves tidy and ordered and perhaps even endearingly academic with its rows of bookshelves. The dark curtains have been drawn aside, and warm, vibrant hues from the Amaurotine sunset flood the entire space from all angles, directly contrasting the blue-flamed candles which illuminate a balcony table Hades has set with refreshments - as well as an excellent vintage that he knows to be one of Hythlodaeus's favorites.]
[He does hope it is not too much. Hades is a patient man, yes, yet he is also perceptive enough to know what it is he desires. He thinks himself not the only one as he observes Hythlodaeus for his reaction while also trying not to let his attention linger overlong.]
You needn't gawk so. Just make yourself at home - 'tis what you are always telling me.
[So he says, yet there is a hint of pride in Hades's voice nevertheless. He, too, has always appreciated the view. He is pleased that he finally has the opportunity to share it with him.]
❤
...Yet even then, even when all distractions had been and been and gone, there was more than a slight feeling of trepidation which honestly, he had not felt before. A nervousness that he had not felt with any of his previous partners, despite the fact that in his sight, they wore this very man's face. A feeling of slight unease for the fact that Hades was so so very important to him, and that things, honestly, should be perfect, lest Hades come to his senses and flee. That feeling, that unease, that nervousness was in direct contention with something else. Something that...
...Well. Put simply, and decently, these past few moons had become the longest dry spell of his adult life. He had found himself distracted at certain points at work and at home. Vaguely listless, as well- devoting most of his thought to a certain act of discovery he both was finding himself growing all the more impatient for, as well as finding his fears amplified with the passage of time.
A terrible state of affairs, truly. And one hardly befitting someone whose only thoughts were supposed to be for the star.
So when the invitation came at the bureau and delivered mid-tending to a certain office Marberry, he had found himself in agreement before Hades had even completed his proposal. And here he finds himself- in a charming apartment, most certainly, given the other's propensity for interesting furnishings and storage- yet such a perplexingly small one. Too small for the mage known as Hades, for certain. An insult to the figure known as Emet-Selch.
He had asked, once, about it. And he had been shown exactly why Hades would not entertain the thought of moving somewhere better equipped for his collections. And really...
The view was a sentimentality, yes.
But the way of which Amaurot's spires so perfectly framed the setting sun. How marvelous the night sky looked complimented by the glows of millions upon millions of the city's lights, how the stars themselves peeked downward as if in accompaniment to this utter marvel of a city...
It was a sentimentality. But it was a sentimentality worth indulging.
Yet even that, to him, is not even half as majestic as the man that stands before him maskless, so very comfortable in this surrounding and environment formed by his own hand.]
...
[He says nothing. Yet he should hope that as the door to the wider complex closes behind him and as he removes his mask, that Hades would find the delight viewable in his eyes as answer enough.
He approaches him with easy strides- a gait that he hoped would not betray the fact that his heart feels already like it is pounding in his throat. And he raises his arm, running his fingers along the other's smooth chin before pulling it down to meet his lips. ]
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[On the surface, yes, perhaps to some he would appear majestic and serene in this moment, yet neither is he immune to nerves. He has seen Hythlodaeus like this some number of times before - his face unobscured, radiant; his eyes aglow with such emotion. And yet on each occasion the vision of him causes something within Hades to stir, ticklish and fluttering as if an entire colony of petalouda has risen up within his breast. Hythlodaeus has always been admired, appreciated, fondly cherished... yet despite that there are days when Hades can scarcely believe they've become this.]
Well? If you're tired, I suppose I could be troubled to prepare a proper dinner.
[An offer, actually; a sincere one.]
[His breath quivers when Hythlodaeus traces his chin, and then he is tugged down some few ilms, his lips soft and indulgent as he takes Hythlodaeus into what he at least had planned to remain a slow and certain kiss. Hades reaches for him then, arms wrapping themselves loosely about his waist.]
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Given this particularly close and intimate position, he can feel Hades' heart's slow, rhythmic thud against his chest- and he is certain that in turn, his own can be felt. It is reassuring, frankly. The fact that such a person- such a vision- is just as human as he. And as he pulls away from the kiss, as he stands upon his toes to touch his forehead against the other man's...]
No, No need to trouble yourself. All that I require for the moment is you.
[And all that he requires for a good few hours, were they about to finally catch a break. He brings himself back down to his true height and trails his hands down Hades' robe. Despite the thickness of the material, there is indication of so very much. A powerful build, yes. Far more suited for a warrior than a mage- yet a graceful stature that is not so commonly attained. There is an ease too- a relaxed stance which would indicate that this moment is rare indeed- One of the few times that Hades is utterly relaxed.
He smiles upward at him then, his hand rising once again to curl his fingers against the other man's well-defined cheek.]
I trust you have no issue with us partaking of the wine later, as well?
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[He allows his grasp upon him to sink in somewhat, finding the curve of his spine, the fine jut of his hips. His own eyes slide shut as he exhales softly, accepting the light pressure of a forehead touched to his, the way the loose wisps that always frame Hythlodaeus's face tickle his own.]
And here I was hoping that you might require only me for a few spans longer than that.
["Hoping". For there is a wryness present, knowing this is not the first time they have attempted as much, and it is unlikely to be the last. Still, Hades is not one to leave a job half-finished, nor to simply give up when there is something worth striving for. Hythlodaeus is easily one such something, and one which is like to needle at his mind until the matter between them is properly and fully explored. For indeed, the touch that trails his robed torso is - for lack of a better word - wanting. And Hades does so wish to indulge it.]
The wine, at least, is unlikely to go to waste whensoever we choose to partake of it. You on the other hand...
[He takes Hythlodaeus's wrist gently, more suggestion than command as he draws it some few ilms towards his lips. Warmth is like to ghost over the other man's flesh as he presses a kiss to the delicate skin there, working his way up to the base of his palm, the flat edge of his hand, the backs of his fingers. Hades is careful in what he does, his eyelids grown heavy, yet his gaze is still golden-bright beneath his dark lashes.]
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Hythlodaeus was far from the superstitious type. Yet even then, it hardly seems wise to tempt fate. Or to invite an inevitable knock on the door from some messenger, tasked with taking one of the pair of them away. Perhaps they could ward away the inevitability just by a few moments by not inviting it upon them. Perhaps.
That, and he finds himself quietly taken aback by the feeling of Hades' lips upon the sensitive inside of his wrist- the mere sight of the other man- so very barefaced yet still so very stately- not to mention so very, very beautiful at this moment in time, with half lidded golden eyes as bright as any of the windows in any of the buildings around them- bestowing such affection, such devotion, upon what he views as merely a hand.
How, he wonders, is this happening? That so great a person, so wonderful a soul could find affection in him...
He pushes the thought aside. And he lowers his eyes to Hades, finally speaking.]
I fear these past few nights have me at my limit.
[A frank confession, most certainly. And one that comes with a little push- telling, really, to a large sofa. It is only very little. More a suggestion than anything with real force behind it, yet he would hope Hades would be responsive. Should he be, he would have the other man sit upon it, and straddle him soon thereafter. Then he would arch his head to run his lips across the nape of his neck in the same manner his hand had been so treated.
And perhaps more breathily than he would have liked, yet lowly, carefully:]
Some afternoons, especially quiet ones, I've wanted to abandon the bureau altogether and find you at the capitol.
[A brief burst of warm air should come soon after, against the shell of Hades' ear. It should be clear Hythlodaeus has found some amusement in the thought- even if not the courage to actually do it- for, well, obvious reasons.]
Can you imagine how terrible it would be? I'd be caught, of course. Likely before even getting through the main hallway. And explaining my reasons for visiting would most certainly be something.
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[And yet he is left to wonder at the confession, for outside of fictious works, he has never before heard such a thing - and certainly not about himself. Before Hythlodaeus - and all of his impish remarks, his gratuitous compliments, his...flirting - he had never thought he could be a particularly alluring person, nor had he ever desired to be. Now, however, such knowledge is invigorating as well as dangerous. That he could have such an impact upon another... He would like very much to see where that leads them.]
[So does Hades allow himself, after some consideration, to be herded backwards across the room he knows well, the brush of a cushion behind him letting him know when it is safe and appropriate to be seated. ...and then he is joined.]
[Hades is not a slight man, and Hythlodaeus settled over his legs proves far more comfortable than it is burdensome. He can feel the heat of him through their robes, and when Hythlodaeus leans up to run his lips over the exposed skin of his neck, Hades feels his shoulders pressing against the plush back of the couch, his head tipping to one side to allow Hythlodaeus his amusement. "Allow", he thinks, as if such affection does not stir something awake from within him, as if Hythlodaeus cannot feel the nervous bob of his throat beneath the trail of his lips, and as if the warmth at his ear doesn't conjure a shiver of what is certainly not fear, but obvious anticipation.]
[A hand supports Hythlodaeus's back, balancing them - yet the other traces a path along the underside of his jaw, tucking beneath his ear to toy at the loose, fine hairs where the weave of his braid first begins; his fingers run gently over the base of his scalp. Hades says nothing for a long time, yet his gaze remains fixed upon him like a pair of twin spotlights. And at last, he coaxes Hythlodaeus's face back up to meet those eyes.]
Well can I imagine it. After Azem's latest censure, the capitol has had little patience for unannounced visitors. Yet there's no story to be had from a sound defeat. Why don't you tell me instead what you'd have done had you found me alone in my office?
[There's a lighter hook there at the end, a slight rise in pitch - an invitation. That had been what Hythlodaeus wished for, had it not? Hypothetically speaking. Hades falls silent, choosing his course.]
[He chooses to be kind.]
...then I will be pleased to show you how I would have answered.
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[His reply is a quick one. It is an easy one- yet the suggestion behind it is something that should need no further elaboration. Yet he was invited to speak freely, was he not? Invited to do that and so much more. And he has chosen more. So the closure of the subject verbally, at least is playful- accompanied by an expression that signifies feigned coyness- and more than a little bit of mirth.]
However... I do think that showing you would be perfectly appropriate.
[It cannot help but play through his mind that this act of showing likely would not be completed. Once again, a developing situation, unprecedented disaster or suitably grievous affair would force both of them to part. That the both of them would be left wanting once again, called to something or other which while important, would be a far cry from what they wanted to do with this evening. That this evening, like the remnants of so many other evenings would be spent in the service of the star, or friends, or this, or that... and certainly not in service to themselves.
Yet.
He finds, as his hands trail the other's strong thighs underneath his robe- which show no sign of undue strain by the act of taking his own not-so-slight weight upon them- he finds his body has absolutely no intention of sharing the same pessimism of his mind. Just that single act- of feeling strong, warm flesh underneath the folds of the other man's robe spurs him forward- to trail his hands up beyond the hip and upward against the rigid muscle that makes the other man's form as impressive, as unmoving, as magnificent, truly- as it is. He quiets as he allows his questing fingertips to explore what is only half-familiar to him, taking note of the curvature, the sheer remarkability of each of the areas that make up the mages' form.
Yet even with a journey so vast, so very well-explored and so very, very, appreciated, it does come to an end. His fingers find themselves curling into the hood of the other man's robe- holding fast as he pulls him forward by it into another long kiss.
And:]
I trust we are of the same mind?
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Might fluff this up later but it passes quality check
<3!
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