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.]
[Oh, he's playful. That is a good sign. It would indicate, after all, that his work had come to a (mostly satisfactory) completion. The fact that the work is complete would result in his presence, yes. But were it unsatisfactorily so, or if it lingers still in Emet-Selch's mind, he would expect the other to be a little terser.
So for that, he is grateful. He pulls himself to his feet, and as he passes, he is all too eager to be playful in turn. The other's sentiment that his honest affection was an earnest attempt to injure is allowed to stand, and with a faint smile:]
Far be it for me to attack someone entirely blameless! I'll confess, I might have been out of sorts for the past few days, but the mere suggestion of inaccuracy wounds me.
[And with the other delegating the tasks, he sees to the food. What is prepared and what is waiting is rather humble- but also good. There are some cheeses. And there are also figs, and olives which have an accompanying jar of honey should one wish to pour some over their share to taste- and there is, of course, meats and fish and bread, all placed on varying plates, to be eaten with hands. All in all, it's very varied! And exactly what one should expect from someone who would care about both taste and nutrition. But such is standard. Among their kind, it is more uncommon to not care about either.
And as the plates are laid out (and perhaps, as he claims a wayward fig which looks too appetizing to not be eaten immediately) ...]
Or you could tell me how many of Lahabrea's Words you had to drive away from your office.
[And why shouldn't he be? Hades is in a perfectly fine mood this evening. Two considerable tasks have now been set behind him (most satisfyingly, as Hythlodaeus has already discovered) and he is afforded a moment of respite before he delves into the next.]
[His head follows him as he uncorks the bottle, spilling not a drop thanks to centuries of practice even as he responds in an easy manner.]
And what, pray tell, do you blame me for? A mere suggestion might wound you, but it is I who have had to withstand at least half a dozen of your targeted "attacks".
[Out of politeness does he set a glass before Hythlodaeus before seeing to his own, though the spread itself - indeed, as varied as described - does both look and smell delicious, and it is swiftly reminding him that he has not eaten properly in, well... perhaps sometime before he set about his tasks.]
[And thus does he quietly take a seat, mindful that he should likely begin with something fortifying or else he may very well nod off before he's even said his goodbyes.]
And if you must know, there were seven of them. Seven! You'd think they had nothing better to do than to mull about like peristeri waiting for me to toss them some breadcrumbs.
[And he had. In the form of a neatly signed stack of documents, all properly labeled and sorted, with a sealed later for their Master.]
Edited (*looks up the Greek word for "pigeon" to be politically correct and prays I found the right one.) 2022-03-09 21:59 (UTC)
Oh, come now! I'd never bestow any undue affection on anyone that had not been involved in the process. For that Marberry is your work, and yours alone. And you deserve it, and far more besides...
...Perhaps you should sleep with your eyes open tonight.
[He would accept the wine. Gratefully at that, but he finds himself far too busy laughing. The majority of his mirth is behind his hand, of course- but he cannot help but make quite a few fairly amused noises. At... well... everything! The way of which his friend sits straight and obstinate as he levels such a number of complaints, the indignance in his tone, as if he truly believed himself so hard done by, even the way of which little lines form around his mouth as more and more of this tirade spills forth!
Oh, just hearing this... this is the most fun he's had in ages, or the most fun he's had since-
- since the last time they talked.
Oh, if he were not wearing his mask, he'd wipe his eyes. That would easily disperse the tears of laughter forming at the corners of them- but something else- that warmth in his breast, cannot be so easily displaced. So. In lieu of trying, he simply starts to gather some of the food that looks the most tempting between choked little gasps for air.
He should hope that Hades knows him well enough, has shared meals with him enough, to not stand on ceremony and do the same. And between a few olives and a good chunk of (delightfully) warm bread...]
Seven. Goodness. [Well, his office is likely in for a busy day once the resulting concept(s) from both Emet-Selch's groundwork and the Words' little endeavour comes in. The thought does sober him, somewhat. But it's not long before he starts to smile once more.]
I can envision you fair flinging the documents down the street for them to follow. [He wouldn't. of course. Not with anything as important as work for Lahabrea. Let alone anyone, really. He's far too courteous! But the thought!
He takes some wine next.]
Still. It does speak volumes that he would share his tasks.
[Of course, even for Lahabrea, Emet-Selch's knowledge of the Underworld is something unknown to him. And of course Hades was fully confident in his work to even hand over the documents.]
I'll not ask what your work entailed... [Convocation matters, and all.] ...But I do hope the result is fun.
[Hades frowns between bites (still so proper even whilst eating, one would be hard pressed to find him so much as grumbling with his mouth full - and no, Hythlodaeus need not worry; he'll be certain to eat his fill for he knows if he were to not, he'd be pestered ceaselessly until he could scarce swallow around another mouthful).]
[And yes, he's quite well aware that Marberry is his own work and no one else's besides. He'd been hoping for perhaps a small indication of gratitude, just to verify that he hasn't entirely lost his touch, but... Well. This all seems a bit extreme, does it not?]
Are you saying I should anticipate a repeat offense? If you expect me to keep my eyes open, then I won't be sleeping at all.
[Strange, how difficult it is to maintain even a trace of irritation. He should at least be annoyed at Hythlodaeus for his constant tittering, the quivering amusement barely hidden behind his palm... and yet he can't. He can't be anything but glad. He's... missed this side of him, this light-hearted banter that isn't weighed down by drama or obligation. It's comfortable and easy, and it makes his chest feel warm and fluttery, the way it only does when he reaches the emotional climax of a particularly well-crafted piece of literature.]
[He finds himself unwittingly returning that smile, even as the complaints continue undeterred.]
Mayhap I did briefly consider it. But what a waste of time that would be - both theirs and mine. I wanted to be rid of them, Hythlodaeus, not watch them collapse into a heap of wailing and teeth-gnashing and tears. I truly thought they would begin crying the moment I met them at the door.
[A long sigh.]
[And to the talk of volumes, Hades says nothing. Knowing what such research entails, it's small wonder that the Words sought him out to verify some of the preliminary work they had already laid out. After all, it isn't uncommon for Lahabrea's work in phantomology and his own work with the aetherial sea to occasionally overlap. It only makes logical sense. He finally offers, by way of explanation:]
It's Lahabrea's work. So you may be certain that the results will be both magnificent and utterly bizarre. Look forward to them if you like.
A wise decision! [Oh, his smile threatens to break into a full grin at that. He has to turn his head away to compose himself.] Though I do think whether you are asleep or awake, it shall not change what is to come. You've earned your reward, after all.
[Yes. His voice might have dropped a few octaves in order to properly convey the terrible fate Hades has brought upon himself. What can he say. He's happy- for what appears to be the first time in weeks. Frankly, it's a relief. And if teasing is a byproduct of it? ...Well, here it is.
His hands move to cradle his glass between both as Hades details a little more about his part in the thing to come, and of course, speculates a little as to the thing itself. And if he wasn't drawn in already, he certainly is now. He takes a little more of it as he listens; lowering it as he responds.]
Yes. It is a rare treat to see something from his very mind. I believe the Ifrita was the last purely his, was it not?
[And even now, after repeated viewings, he could scarcely comprehend the sheer perfection of it. The flawlessness of function, the elegance of design, and... indeed, the bizarreness of it are things that could very well form their own schools of study just in themselves.]
...But I fear I've already found my favourite. [A gentle smile.] ...Or at the very least, a personal favourite. And I'll not be dissuaded.
[Was lowering his voice supposed to instill fear within Hades' soul? It doesn't. But it might have caused his heart to startle for a brief, silent moment; Hades, if asked, would simply blame the wine.]
If I've yet to receive it, then pray tell what do you call all of that back in my office? From my perspective, you've already delivered your gratitude ten times over.
[He frowns and takes another sip of his drink, distracting himself with trying to locate the juiciest of the remaining figs.]
...yes, as far as I'm aware. Though I'm sure the man has any number of works in progress. Lahabrea never was one to idly pore over paperwork and he's been spending a great deal of time seeing to matters within Asphodelos.
[But setting the matter of Lahabrea aside.]
Should the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect truly be playing favorites when it comes to concepts and creatures? My understanding is that it's your job to approach all things with an impartial and unbiased eye. Besides, if you speak of Marberry, it is hardly on the same level as Ifrita.
Nevertheless, I'm glad to see that is was so well-received. You've no idea how much trouble I had sneaking it into your office. Had I not invoked a shielding spell, it would have stabbed me five times.
[Most would be annoyed or at least concerned by that particular detail. Hades, however, seems privately satisfied (if the subtle - and proud - little smile is anything to go by). It's just too bad about the knife.]
[A faint smile follows, as if he can hear the sudden irregularity in Hades' heartbeat. And he can't, of course. What he can see though, is quite remarkable. It's as if his soul shuddered, just a little. Now that's something. Hades, after all, is hardly anything akin to fainthearted. So! Just as lowly:]
My gratitude shall come when you least expect it... and not a moment before.
[A laugh! and of course, while the discussion of the best (and the most difficult to ascertain) of the Convocation is quite illuminating, especially after some disconcerting news he'd heard whisper of, regarding a recent tragedy. Not heard much of- of course, given his relative lack of station...
But still heard of, in hushed whispers amongst the least careful of his staff. Still. By Hades' tone, he was well enough to work. And that is something.
And he's quite prepared to leave it at that. Besides.]
The Chief of the Bureau of the Architect would never play favourites. I on the other hand, privately, and in matters wholly unrelated to work...
[Another smile follows. Followed by a laugh! What can be said. He can imagine each of the creature's attempts. And finished with his food, he pushes his plate away- though makes no move to tidy properly when Hades is still eating.]
I must confess, it does have a charm about it. I suppose the fact it would try to murder its creator mere hours after being born would add to that. Personally, as impressive as the Ifrita is, I know for a fact it does not have that spirit.
[He'd peeked, of course.]
...Not to mention, the application for your Marberry is rather inspired. It addresses a need, and even the most intricately designed of concepts are nothing without application.
["Affection" he says! Difficult is it to tell if Hythlodaeus is merely toying with him in that way of his, or if he actually plans to do... well, something. Hades never was one for unexpected surprises (at least those which impact him directly), but with the way Hythlodaeus says as much, a fragment of his being responds. A flicker, like a wick sputtering as a teasing draft brushes past - it isn't fear, it's very nearly...]
[Anticipation.]
[He snorts softly through his nose, his neutral expression not changing in the slightest.]
Call it whatever you like. But dare I ask what the difference is?
[And as for matters of Lahabrea, well, Hades has never been one to spread gossip. The man's personal affairs are no business of his own, unfortunate as they may be. For as long as things remain under control and there's no reason for the rest of the Convocation to step in, Hades sees little reason not to leave him to it. He is, after all, unquestionably capable.]
[Hades is nearly finished with his meal in any case, pausing only to refill Hythlodaeus' glass. The man can handle much more, he knows.]
But is Marberry not related to your work...?
[It is, undeniably.]
If we are to populate the star with life, should we aim to envision life with character? There are already tens upon thousands of creations that are magnificent and beautiful to look upon but which behave in ways that are wholly expected of them.
Without this "charm" you speak of, concepts are uninteresting to develop, much less observe. That is my take on the matter, at least.
[And why Hades has only seen a half dozen of them through to submission. Though, to be perfectly fair, he much prefers his work on spellcraft over that of creatures. 'Tis far more experimental and hands-on. And there are less details to lose sleep over.]
Besides, there is also balance to consider. Marberry represents the other half of that balance.
[Oh, the question Hades poses has him laugh. Dare he, indeed. He's never been the sort to lack courage.]
If you do not already know, then you shall. And we shall let that discovery serve as your answer.
[He's not drunk. Not even close, actually- yet what he is experiencing at the other's company is a feeling very similar. A lightheadedness, almost. As if each and every (pleasant) little barrier he keeps around himself has been lowered, and his inhibitions are severely lowered. It's happiness- and after so long bereft of it, it's intoxicating.
Yet what Hades says next-]
...
[It does not spark the same giddiness. Instead, it's something much more profund. Not accented with any form of remark or vaguely flirtatious form of tease- no smart comment and certainly none of his usual levity. But he's far from unhappy.
What Hades says goes to his very core. It makes his eyes lower, and makes his heart, incidentally, skip a few beats of its own. It makes his lips twitch upward and stay there in a soft smile, and Hades could likely see his soul swell, just a little- the colour of it becoming so much more profound.
...And it stays that way. For the feeling does not leave him. For how could it? The feeling of wholehearted agreement, of being understood, entirely and utterly...
He does not have to say anything. He does not even have to look at him. For Hades should see it, percieve it, and understand it- for his words signified that he understood him. Entirely, and utterly. And-
Oh, he hasn't felt this before. Not from anyone, actually.
He stays that way for a moment, nodding in agreement, while his hand subconciously finds it fitting to fiddle with his braid... Before he moves himself to collect the plates.
...Yes. He mentioned the balance-]
That it does. And your Marberry's representation of it is unparalleled.
[Plates removed (and simply placed to the side. Really, he can do them later.) he returns, and affords Hades that same smile. And-]
Would you like to stay tonight? I can have the spare room made up for you.
[An exasperated sigh follows Hythlodaeus' answer. Really, why must he be so aggravatingly coy about all of this and not simply have it over with? Still, if that's the game Hythlodaeus wishes to play, then by all means. He'll just have to stay one step ahead of him to spare his shoulders a second pummeling.]
[Yet what he witnesses next is at once strange and endlessly compelling. Hythlodaeus silent? His mouth curved in a way that is both natural and gently self-indulgent. He thinks that, perhaps, Hythlodaeus doesn't even realize it himself. And then, from the depths of his soul, does that familiar color pulse gently, undiluted and vivid; radiant, he would say.]
[Just what could Hythlodaeus be thinking of? Or perhaps, he has found himself once again? Whatever has changed, Hades can only imagine it's for the better - although, equally strange, the nervous movements of his fingers. Hades has never known him to tug at that braid, even in private. More often than not, Hythlodaeus could be seen tucking it hidden into his cowl or pulling the hood further down upon his face.]
[Hades finds his eyes momentarily distracted. He's known since the day they met that his companion's hair was a rather unusual and pleasing shade of lilac purple, but... It really is quite lovely, isn't it? Hades continues watching him from behind his mask, and his resolute soul has settled into a peaceful and contented glow, interrupted only by an occasional faint resonance which seems not to be a sign of weakness, but of something else altogether.]
I'd hardly say it is "unparalleled", but if such is the case, I can only hope it will encourage others to more carefully consider both sides of the scale and not merely the side which most appeals to their own personal tastes.
Be that as it may, whilst drafting Marberry's application, I came across several tomes on ancient mythology which I'd very nearly forgotten about. It may take a decade or two, but I suspect Marberry won't be the final concept to be submitted from the current Seat of Emet-Selch.
[How difficult he finds it to deny that smile.]
[Hades leans back in his chair, shoulders straight as he crosses both arms over his chest.]
...I suppose I've nothing immediately pressing to return to at home.
[Which, much like Marberry, is by design. He'd at least attempted to leave his schedule as open and as flexible as possible should his friend have need of him (that in itself had proven quite a feat for one who preferred to maximize his productivity).]
[It isn't a yes or a no, but if Hythlodaeus wishes for him to stay, it isn't any major inconvenience. He's done so before, even during the midst of Hythlodaeus' grief. (For honestly, who could leave him entirely to his own devices in such a state?) And besides, he wouldn't mind conversing for a while longer, now it seems they might begin to move past unfortunate circumstances and on to lighter and more agreeable topics.]
Well, in terms of charm, I do find it unparalleled. And frankly, I imagine it may very well start a new trend.
[Oh, what he'd give for the most recent surge of flying sharks to be replaced with something different. He can envision it, actually. Should the Marberry prove itself just as endearing to his staff as he personally found it, he should expect to see creature upon creature with adorable little weapons submitted for consideration, murderous intent or not.
...But there's also the promise of more. And oh, he looks forward to it. Still. As Hades leans, he gathers himself, tucking his braid, again, into his hood. And:]
Good. I'll go and make sure the room is in order.
[Even though really, since Hades had chosen to stay so much in the recent days, it would be exactly as he had left it- sans the bed being remade. Regardless, a cursorary check is in order. So! He does so.
...Only then, seemingly instantly, another portal opens behind him. And again, again! another tight squeeze comes from it. He did warn him, after all.]
[Hades raises a hand to his brow and shakes his head in dismay.]
I most certainly hope it doesn't come to that. Considering all you've told me, these "trends" sap every last onze of creativity out of all involved. The last thing we need is an army of Marberrys, eerily identical save one trait or another, or a change in clothing.
--yes, and well can I imagine the chaos that would lead to. It'd spark a Tonberry revolution, because there would be far too many of them.
[On the matter of a room, Hades doesn't protest, though he suspects (strongly) that it's just as tidy as he left it. He is, however, content to await Hythlodaeus' return, glad for the brief moment of respite to gather his thoughts and privately breathe a sigh of relief on his friend's behalf.]
[And it is incredibly brief. Not a second later, he can feel the familiar tug of aether behind him, and he whirls like a cornered animal - but not quickly enough to avoid yet another powerful squeeze of his shoulders. He sputters a cough, trying to pivot in his chair and twist free -- and when that doesn't work, he latches onto Hythlodaeus' forearm and pulls strongly, in an effort to yank him right back out of the portal.]
[Too easy! Even when he had previously warned him not an hour ago, he still left his back unwatched! And oh, that statement. Whereas most would cease, immediately, where most would feel their blood run cold, and experience their heart both rise to their throat and begin to pound in sheer terror, it...
Oh, it's amusing. His delight is shown in a playful little laugh- but oh. He did not expect to be held onto, and to have his arms pulled upon with less than playful force.
Fortunately, (For Hades' physical strength likely outmatches his, not insignificant, own) he has the portal on his side. It's pull wrenches him from the other man and it closes in short order, leaving perhaps the echo of his laugh within the empty room.
...Well. That, and an aether trail. One that's just screaming to be followed. Should Hades do so, he would find himself within a plaza of the city. The late hour, of course, means that no-one is about, save for Hythlodaeus. Who, while apparently waiting for him seems to feign surprise at the sight of him. He opens another portal, quickly, and steps through- again leaving a trail.
...One that seems to go beyond their cities' boundaries, by the looks of it.]
[He'd been content! How was he to know Hythlodaeus would interrupt such a nice, peaceful moment with his games?!]
[No, he should have guessed, of course. Of course things wouldn't be so simple! The chair creaks as Hades uses it as a springboard, shoulders protesting as his full weight falls upon them, and then he's pulled fully upright, the chair scraping along the floor as Hades throws an arm out to summon another portal, honing in on that aether trail that dances brilliantly before his sight, the echo of that laugh taunting him, spurring him to action.]
[Follow he does in a flurry of robes!]
[His own portal opens out into the plaza where the cool night breeze ruffles his cowl, the air is fresh with the ever-present fragrance of wisteria and magicks, all set beneath a sea of spires and stars and the brightly lit towers of the city he loves. And there beneath it all is Hythlodaeus.]
[It's not unlike some quiet scene from one of Altima's works where the two protagonists find themselves alone on some grand stage just before one of them says something dramatic and profound. Hades has no such words at the moment, he merely scowls and takes a step forward.]
And just what manner of mischief are you up to? --hey!
[Well, he'd thought he'd judged him accurately. It seems instead that Hythlodaeus intends to lead him on a merry chase. Well, fine! Hades focuses on the familiar trail of aether and tugs with his mind, teleporting with a crisp snap of his fingers.]
[The next thing he knows is wet. The air is thick and humid and a light shines down through broad, fanned leaves. Above him a loud chorus of brightly colored birds and tree-dwelling lizards, and below a carpet of moss and fungi of all kinds, half-suspended in shadow. Hades brushes one thick frond aside, unable to see Hythlodaeus for the foliage, though he can still make out the trail of aether, half-mixed among the vivid colors of this tropical jungle.]
[They must be in one of the testing grounds, he thinks. Not Elpis, but somewhere nearby. He doesn't think Hythlodaeus could have jumped so far as to drag them to the far reaches of the star -- but perhaps he's wrong about that, too.]
[He calls out his name, cursing under his breath as his robes begin clinging to his torso. Oh, he hates being wet! A fine start this is!]
[Hades would be correct in his assumption- indeed they are at one of the nearby outposts dedicated to the study of all manner of concepts. Not exactly anything as grand or as storied as Elpis, instead one dedicated to the study of tiny insectoids. It is somewhere humble- for being close to Amaurot would mean the occupants of said facility are not dangerous, but this place just happens to be somewhere that happens to produce good work regardless.
And in the night hours, it is pretty. The sound of crickets, cicadas, grasshoppers and katydids fills the air in song- the moonlight dappled throughout countless broadleaved plants that make up this miniature rainforest, especially as it falls upon the water underneath, is enchanting.
Well. It was, until Hades, not looking where he leapt apparently, descends unto the stream. Granted, the water is knee-height at best, but from his vantage point high up within the broadleaved trees, he cannot help but laugh. His laugh- animated, bright, playful- intermingles with the sound of the insect's almost deafening song.
And he jumps again. The next destination? As far as he can jump in one go, really- far, far, far away- not quite at the other end of the star, but somewhere where it is warm. It's a desert. A curious one, actually- one of the currently unexplained wonders of their Etheirys, where the sand is not sand- instead, tiny fragments of glass, shining softly in a myriad of brilliant colours in the moonlight.
And oh, he jumped far. Far enough to instantly lose his footing, and slide (Quite safely!) down a large dune- that must be at least 300 feet high. Hopefully Hades is still on his heels. For it would be a shame to lose him so early on.]
[He should be far more annoyed, but Hades finds he cannot quite bring himself to an appropriate level of anger, not even as the muddy stream bottom tugs at the soles of his hupodema and frigid water leaks in. Not truly or completely.]
[Isn't it strange? If this were anyone else he'd be absolutely livid for their recklessness, and yet here he is, left to crane his neck up to spy that familiar flash of pastel green and Hythlodaeus chuckling there amongst the moonlit boughs like some oversized primate. Instead, he thinks, he has never known any one person to seem so utterly, fascinatingly alive. (Sorry, Azem.)]
[The next time Hades is almost ready for him, and this next jump is considerable. He focuses on that trail of aether once again and leaps, his feet already in motion the moment his stomach settles and his awareness readjusts. Thankfully, this new locale is comfortable and dry, and he's momentarily dazzled by the way the moonlight plays off the tiny crystalline grains, kicking up iridescent rays of color wherever they're disturbed. --which is exactly how he knows to hurry over to the edge of a particularly large dune and gaze down its slope at Hythlodaeus whisked away into its valley.]
["So early on"? Just how long does Hythlodaeus plan to keep this up?! Hades, for the first time in his life, is almost grateful for Azem's antics or else he'd barely be able to keep up with him. And here he takes a shortcut - teleporting to the bottom with a crisp snap of his fingers to materialize nearby. He huffs, mouth curling into one of those self-possessed smiles of his which means that Hades is rearing up for a proper interrogation.]
And just what are you up to now? If you fancied a moonlit stroll, you could have simply asked in the usual way.
[But a part of him still is glad that this is far from a predictable, normal (and dreadfully trite) walk through the park -- something he's indulged in more times than he can reasonably remember. Pleasant, but entirely expected.]
[Hades' judgment as to where to put himself pays off. Quite wonderfully, actually- as he teleports to a position which is a single pace away from where Hythlodaeus' momentum should place him. And yes. He comes to a stop with a smile- a slight adjustment of his hood to re-conceal some stray wisps of hair- and he cranes his head upward to meet him in the face.
That very lovely face, actually. Even with the upper half of it masked by the stern and noble expression upon the mask denoting his seat. And then he pulls himself to his feet, clutching something in his hand... Which is then pressed to Hades' own.
It is a single grain of this sand. Small, yes. Yet perhaps not as small as one would expect a grain of sand to be- more the size of a thumbnail. Perfectly smooth and rounded by both the other grains, the wind, and the passage of time- and should it be held to the light, one would see a myriad of prismatic colour within.
It is small. Worthless, actually- with no real point or purpose. Yet it is a memento. And so thus, this single grain finds its purpose. He smiles.]
I fancied some fun. And I feared should I have asked, you'd have found quite a few reasons to refuse.
[It's just them out here, isn't it? They are the only lives for miles and miles- research is not presently going on here. Nor have any concepts reached a far enough stage of trial where they could be expected to thrive here. And...]
Being observed being one of them. You'll have no such excuse here. And since there is no reason not to- you should try this. It's very fun.
[He disappears in another portal. Hades should be able to see it reopen at the top of the dune. Follow or not, it is Hades' decision.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
☾ 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.]
--------
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
So for that, he is grateful. He pulls himself to his feet, and as he passes, he is all too eager to be playful in turn. The other's sentiment that his honest affection was an earnest attempt to injure is allowed to stand, and with a faint smile:]
Far be it for me to attack someone entirely blameless! I'll confess, I might have been out of sorts for the past few days, but the mere suggestion of inaccuracy wounds me.
[And with the other delegating the tasks, he sees to the food. What is prepared and what is waiting is rather humble- but also good. There are some cheeses. And there are also figs, and olives which have an accompanying jar of honey should one wish to pour some over their share to taste- and there is, of course, meats and fish and bread, all placed on varying plates, to be eaten with hands. All in all, it's very varied! And exactly what one should expect from someone who would care about both taste and nutrition. But such is standard. Among their kind, it is more uncommon to not care about either.
And as the plates are laid out (and perhaps, as he claims a wayward fig which looks too appetizing to not be eaten immediately) ...]
Or you could tell me how many of Lahabrea's Words you had to drive away from your office.
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[His head follows him as he uncorks the bottle, spilling not a drop thanks to centuries of practice even as he responds in an easy manner.]
And what, pray tell, do you blame me for? A mere suggestion might wound you, but it is I who have had to withstand at least half a dozen of your targeted "attacks".
[Out of politeness does he set a glass before Hythlodaeus before seeing to his own, though the spread itself - indeed, as varied as described - does both look and smell delicious, and it is swiftly reminding him that he has not eaten properly in, well... perhaps sometime before he set about his tasks.]
[And thus does he quietly take a seat, mindful that he should likely begin with something fortifying or else he may very well nod off before he's even said his goodbyes.]
And if you must know, there were seven of them. Seven! You'd think they had nothing better to do than to mull about like peristeri waiting for me to toss them some breadcrumbs.
[And he had. In the form of a neatly signed stack of documents, all properly labeled and sorted, with a sealed later for their Master.]
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...Perhaps you should sleep with your eyes open tonight.
[He would accept the wine. Gratefully at that, but he finds himself far too busy laughing. The majority of his mirth is behind his hand, of course- but he cannot help but make quite a few fairly amused noises. At... well... everything! The way of which his friend sits straight and obstinate as he levels such a number of complaints, the indignance in his tone, as if he truly believed himself so hard done by, even the way of which little lines form around his mouth as more and more of this tirade spills forth!
Oh, just hearing this... this is the most fun he's had in ages, or the most fun he's had since-
- since the last time they talked.
Oh, if he were not wearing his mask, he'd wipe his eyes. That would easily disperse the tears of laughter forming at the corners of them- but something else- that warmth in his breast, cannot be so easily displaced. So. In lieu of trying, he simply starts to gather some of the food that looks the most tempting between choked little gasps for air.
He should hope that Hades knows him well enough, has shared meals with him enough, to not stand on ceremony and do the same. And between a few olives and a good chunk of (delightfully) warm bread...]
Seven. Goodness. [Well, his office is likely in for a busy day once the resulting concept(s) from both Emet-Selch's groundwork and the Words' little endeavour comes in. The thought does sober him, somewhat. But it's not long before he starts to smile once more.]
I can envision you fair flinging the documents down the street for them to follow. [He wouldn't. of course. Not with anything as important as work for Lahabrea. Let alone anyone, really. He's far too courteous! But the thought!
He takes some wine next.]
Still. It does speak volumes that he would share his tasks.
[Of course, even for Lahabrea, Emet-Selch's knowledge of the Underworld is something unknown to him. And of course Hades was fully confident in his work to even hand over the documents.]
I'll not ask what your work entailed... [Convocation matters, and all.] ...But I do hope the result is fun.
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[And yes, he's quite well aware that Marberry is his own work and no one else's besides. He'd been hoping for perhaps a small indication of gratitude, just to verify that he hasn't entirely lost his touch, but... Well. This all seems a bit extreme, does it not?]
Are you saying I should anticipate a repeat offense? If you expect me to keep my eyes open, then I won't be sleeping at all.
[Strange, how difficult it is to maintain even a trace of irritation. He should at least be annoyed at Hythlodaeus for his constant tittering, the quivering amusement barely hidden behind his palm... and yet he can't. He can't be anything but glad. He's... missed this side of him, this light-hearted banter that isn't weighed down by drama or obligation. It's comfortable and easy, and it makes his chest feel warm and fluttery, the way it only does when he reaches the emotional climax of a particularly well-crafted piece of literature.]
[He finds himself unwittingly returning that smile, even as the complaints continue undeterred.]
Mayhap I did briefly consider it. But what a waste of time that would be - both theirs and mine. I wanted to be rid of them, Hythlodaeus, not watch them collapse into a heap of wailing and teeth-gnashing and tears. I truly thought they would begin crying the moment I met them at the door.
[A long sigh.]
[And to the talk of volumes, Hades says nothing. Knowing what such research entails, it's small wonder that the Words sought him out to verify some of the preliminary work they had already laid out. After all, it isn't uncommon for Lahabrea's work in phantomology and his own work with the aetherial sea to occasionally overlap. It only makes logical sense. He finally offers, by way of explanation:]
It's Lahabrea's work. So you may be certain that the results will be both magnificent and utterly bizarre. Look forward to them if you like.
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[Yes. His voice might have dropped a few octaves in order to properly convey the terrible fate Hades has brought upon himself. What can he say. He's happy- for what appears to be the first time in weeks. Frankly, it's a relief. And if teasing is a byproduct of it? ...Well, here it is.
His hands move to cradle his glass between both as Hades details a little more about his part in the thing to come, and of course, speculates a little as to the thing itself. And if he wasn't drawn in already, he certainly is now. He takes a little more of it as he listens; lowering it as he responds.]
Yes. It is a rare treat to see something from his very mind. I believe the Ifrita was the last purely his, was it not?
[And even now, after repeated viewings, he could scarcely comprehend the sheer perfection of it. The flawlessness of function, the elegance of design, and... indeed, the bizarreness of it are things that could very well form their own schools of study just in themselves.]
...But I fear I've already found my favourite. [A gentle smile.] ...Or at the very least, a personal favourite. And I'll not be dissuaded.
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If I've yet to receive it, then pray tell what do you call all of that back in my office? From my perspective, you've already delivered your gratitude ten times over.
[He frowns and takes another sip of his drink, distracting himself with trying to locate the juiciest of the remaining figs.]
...yes, as far as I'm aware. Though I'm sure the man has any number of works in progress. Lahabrea never was one to idly pore over paperwork and he's been spending a great deal of time seeing to matters within Asphodelos.
[But setting the matter of Lahabrea aside.]
Should the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect truly be playing favorites when it comes to concepts and creatures? My understanding is that it's your job to approach all things with an impartial and unbiased eye. Besides, if you speak of Marberry, it is hardly on the same level as Ifrita.
Nevertheless, I'm glad to see that is was so well-received. You've no idea how much trouble I had sneaking it into your office. Had I not invoked a shielding spell, it would have stabbed me five times.
[Most would be annoyed or at least concerned by that particular detail. Hades, however, seems privately satisfied (if the subtle - and proud - little smile is anything to go by).
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[A faint smile follows, as if he can hear the sudden irregularity in Hades' heartbeat. And he can't, of course. What he can see though, is quite remarkable. It's as if his soul shuddered, just a little. Now that's something. Hades, after all, is hardly anything akin to fainthearted. So! Just as lowly:]
My gratitude shall come when you least expect it... and not a moment before.
[A laugh! and of course, while the discussion of the best (and the most difficult to ascertain) of the Convocation is quite illuminating, especially after some disconcerting news he'd heard whisper of, regarding a recent tragedy. Not heard much of- of course, given his relative lack of station...
But still heard of, in hushed whispers amongst the least careful of his staff.
Still. By Hades' tone, he was well enough to work. And that is something.
And he's quite prepared to leave it at that. Besides.]
The Chief of the Bureau of the Architect would never play favourites. I on the other hand, privately, and in matters wholly unrelated to work...
[Another smile follows. Followed by a laugh! What can be said. He can imagine each of the creature's attempts. And finished with his food, he pushes his plate away- though makes no move to tidy properly when Hades is still eating.]
I must confess, it does have a charm about it. I suppose the fact it would try to murder its creator mere hours after being born would add to that. Personally, as impressive as the Ifrita is, I know for a fact it does not have that spirit.
[He'd peeked, of course.]
...Not to mention, the application for your Marberry is rather inspired. It addresses a need, and even the most intricately designed of concepts are nothing without application.
[Oh. His wines finished.]
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[Anticipation.]
[He snorts softly through his nose, his neutral expression not changing in the slightest.]
Call it whatever you like. But dare I ask what the difference is?
[And as for matters of Lahabrea, well, Hades has never been one to spread gossip. The man's personal affairs are no business of his own, unfortunate as they may be. For as long as things remain under control and there's no reason for the rest of the Convocation to step in, Hades sees little reason not to leave him to it. He is, after all, unquestionably capable.]
[Hades is nearly finished with his meal in any case, pausing only to refill Hythlodaeus' glass. The man can handle much more, he knows.]
But is Marberry not related to your work...?
[It is, undeniably.]
If we are to populate the star with life, should we aim to envision life with character? There are already tens upon thousands of creations that are magnificent and beautiful to look upon but which behave in ways that are wholly expected of them.
Without this "charm" you speak of, concepts are uninteresting to develop, much less observe. That is my take on the matter, at least.
[And why Hades has only seen a half dozen of them through to submission. Though, to be perfectly fair, he much prefers his work on spellcraft over that of creatures. 'Tis far more experimental and hands-on. And there are less details to lose sleep over.]
Besides, there is also balance to consider. Marberry represents the other half of that balance.
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If you do not already know, then you shall. And we shall let that discovery serve as your answer.
[He's not drunk. Not even close, actually- yet what he is experiencing at the other's company is a feeling very similar. A lightheadedness, almost. As if each and every (pleasant) little barrier he keeps around himself has been lowered, and his inhibitions are severely lowered. It's happiness- and after so long bereft of it, it's intoxicating.
Yet what Hades says next-]
...
[It does not spark the same giddiness. Instead, it's something much more profund. Not accented with any form of remark or vaguely flirtatious form of tease- no smart comment and certainly none of his usual levity. But he's far from unhappy.
What Hades says goes to his very core. It makes his eyes lower, and makes his heart, incidentally, skip a few beats of its own. It makes his lips twitch upward and stay there in a soft smile, and Hades could likely see his soul swell, just a little- the colour of it becoming so much more profound.
...And it stays that way. For the feeling does not leave him. For how could it? The feeling of wholehearted agreement, of being understood, entirely and utterly...
He does not have to say anything. He does not even have to look at him. For Hades should see it, percieve it, and understand it- for his words signified that he understood him. Entirely, and utterly. And-
Oh, he hasn't felt this before.
Not from anyone, actually.
He stays that way for a moment, nodding in agreement, while his hand subconciously finds it fitting to fiddle with his braid...
Before he moves himself to collect the plates.
...Yes. He mentioned the balance-]
That it does. And your Marberry's representation of it is unparalleled.
[Plates removed (and simply placed to the side. Really, he can do them later.) he returns, and affords Hades that same smile. And-]
Would you like to stay tonight? I can have the spare room made up for you.
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[Yet what he witnesses next is at once strange and endlessly compelling. Hythlodaeus silent? His mouth curved in a way that is both natural and gently self-indulgent. He thinks that, perhaps, Hythlodaeus doesn't even realize it himself. And then, from the depths of his soul, does that familiar color pulse gently, undiluted and vivid; radiant, he would say.]
[Just what could Hythlodaeus be thinking of? Or perhaps, he has found himself once again? Whatever has changed, Hades can only imagine it's for the better - although, equally strange, the nervous movements of his fingers. Hades has never known him to tug at that braid, even in private. More often than not, Hythlodaeus could be seen tucking it hidden into his cowl or pulling the hood further down upon his face.]
[Hades finds his eyes momentarily distracted. He's known since the day they met that his companion's hair was a rather unusual and pleasing shade of lilac purple, but... It really is quite lovely, isn't it? Hades continues watching him from behind his mask, and his resolute soul has settled into a peaceful and contented glow, interrupted only by an occasional faint resonance which seems not to be a sign of weakness, but of something else altogether.]
I'd hardly say it is "unparalleled", but if such is the case, I can only hope it will encourage others to more carefully consider both sides of the scale and not merely the side which most appeals to their own personal tastes.
Be that as it may, whilst drafting Marberry's application, I came across several tomes on ancient mythology which I'd very nearly forgotten about. It may take a decade or two, but I suspect Marberry won't be the final concept to be submitted from the current Seat of Emet-Selch.
[How difficult he finds it to deny that smile.]
[Hades leans back in his chair, shoulders straight as he crosses both arms over his chest.]
...I suppose I've nothing immediately pressing to return to at home.
[Which, much like Marberry, is by design. He'd at least attempted to leave his schedule as open and as flexible as possible should his friend have need of him (that in itself had proven quite a feat for one who preferred to maximize his productivity).]
[It isn't a yes or a no, but if Hythlodaeus wishes for him to stay, it isn't any major inconvenience. He's done so before, even during the midst of Hythlodaeus' grief. (For honestly, who could leave him entirely to his own devices in such a state?) And besides, he wouldn't mind conversing for a while longer, now it seems they might begin to move past unfortunate circumstances and on to lighter and more agreeable topics.]
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[Oh, what he'd give for the most recent surge of flying sharks to be replaced with something different. He can envision it, actually. Should the Marberry prove itself just as endearing to his staff as he personally found it, he should expect to see creature upon creature with adorable little weapons submitted for consideration, murderous intent or not.
...But there's also the promise of more. And oh, he looks forward to it. Still. As Hades leans, he gathers himself, tucking his braid, again, into his hood. And:]
Good. I'll go and make sure the room is in order.
[Even though really, since Hades had chosen to stay so much in the recent days, it would be exactly as he had left it- sans the bed being remade. Regardless, a cursorary check is in order. So! He does so.
...Only then, seemingly instantly, another portal opens behind him. And again, again! another tight squeeze comes from it. He did warn him, after all.]
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I most certainly hope it doesn't come to that. Considering all you've told me, these "trends" sap every last onze of creativity out of all involved. The last thing we need is an army of Marberrys, eerily identical save one trait or another, or a change in clothing.
--yes, and well can I imagine the chaos that would lead to. It'd spark a Tonberry revolution, because there would be far too many of them.
[On the matter of a room, Hades doesn't protest, though he suspects (strongly) that it's just as tidy as he left it. He is, however, content to await Hythlodaeus' return, glad for the brief moment of respite to gather his thoughts and privately breathe a sigh of relief on his friend's behalf.]
[And it is incredibly brief. Not a second later, he can feel the familiar tug of aether behind him, and he whirls like a cornered animal - but not quickly enough to avoid yet another powerful squeeze of his shoulders. He sputters a cough, trying to pivot in his chair and twist free -- and when that doesn't work, he latches onto Hythlodaeus' forearm and pulls strongly, in an effort to yank him right back out of the portal.]
Hythlodaeus, enough! You are tempting my ire!
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Oh, it's amusing.
His delight is shown in a playful little laugh- but oh. He did not expect to be held onto, and to have his arms pulled upon with less than playful force.
Fortunately, (For Hades' physical strength likely outmatches his, not insignificant, own) he has the portal on his side. It's pull wrenches him from the other man and it closes in short order, leaving perhaps the echo of his laugh within the empty room.
...Well. That, and an aether trail. One that's just screaming to be followed. Should Hades do so, he would find himself within a plaza of the city. The late hour, of course, means that no-one is about, save for Hythlodaeus. Who, while apparently waiting for him seems to feign surprise at the sight of him. He opens another portal, quickly, and steps through- again leaving a trail.
...One that seems to go beyond their cities' boundaries, by the looks of it.]
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[No, he should have guessed, of course. Of course things wouldn't be so simple! The chair creaks as Hades uses it as a springboard, shoulders protesting as his full weight falls upon them, and then he's pulled fully upright, the chair scraping along the floor as Hades throws an arm out to summon another portal, honing in on that aether trail that dances brilliantly before his sight, the echo of that laugh taunting him, spurring him to action.]
[Follow he does in a flurry of robes!]
[His own portal opens out into the plaza where the cool night breeze ruffles his cowl, the air is fresh with the ever-present fragrance of wisteria and magicks, all set beneath a sea of spires and stars and the brightly lit towers of the city he loves. And there beneath it all is Hythlodaeus.]
[It's not unlike some quiet scene from one of Altima's works where the two protagonists find themselves alone on some grand stage just before one of them says something dramatic and profound. Hades has no such words at the moment, he merely scowls and takes a step forward.]
And just what manner of mischief are you up to? --hey!
[Well, he'd thought he'd judged him accurately. It seems instead that Hythlodaeus intends to lead him on a merry chase. Well, fine! Hades focuses on the familiar trail of aether and tugs with his mind, teleporting with a crisp snap of his fingers.]
[The next thing he knows is wet. The air is thick and humid and a light shines down through broad, fanned leaves. Above him a loud chorus of brightly colored birds and tree-dwelling lizards, and below a carpet of moss and fungi of all kinds, half-suspended in shadow. Hades brushes one thick frond aside, unable to see Hythlodaeus for the foliage, though he can still make out the trail of aether, half-mixed among the vivid colors of this tropical jungle.]
[They must be in one of the testing grounds, he thinks. Not Elpis, but somewhere nearby. He doesn't think Hythlodaeus could have jumped so far as to drag them to the far reaches of the star -- but perhaps he's wrong about that, too.]
[He calls out his name, cursing under his breath as his robes begin clinging to his torso. Oh, he hates being wet! A fine start this is!]
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And in the night hours, it is pretty. The sound of crickets, cicadas, grasshoppers and katydids fills the air in song- the moonlight dappled throughout countless broadleaved plants that make up this miniature rainforest, especially as it falls upon the water underneath, is enchanting.
Well.
It was, until Hades, not looking where he leapt apparently, descends unto the stream. Granted, the water is knee-height at best, but from his vantage point high up within the broadleaved trees, he cannot help but laugh. His laugh- animated, bright, playful- intermingles with the sound of the insect's almost deafening song.
And he jumps again. The next destination? As far as he can jump in one go, really- far, far, far away- not quite at the other end of the star, but somewhere where it is warm. It's a desert. A curious one, actually- one of the currently unexplained wonders of their Etheirys, where the sand is not sand- instead, tiny fragments of glass, shining softly in a myriad of brilliant colours in the moonlight.
And oh, he jumped far. Far enough to instantly lose his footing, and slide (Quite safely!) down a large dune- that must be at least 300 feet high. Hopefully Hades is still on his heels. For it would be a shame to lose him so early on.]
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[Isn't it strange? If this were anyone else he'd be absolutely livid for their recklessness, and yet here he is, left to crane his neck up to spy that familiar flash of pastel green and Hythlodaeus chuckling there amongst the moonlit boughs like some oversized primate. Instead, he thinks, he has never known any one person to seem so utterly, fascinatingly alive. (Sorry, Azem.)]
[The next time Hades is almost ready for him, and this next jump is considerable. He focuses on that trail of aether once again and leaps, his feet already in motion the moment his stomach settles and his awareness readjusts. Thankfully, this new locale is comfortable and dry, and he's momentarily dazzled by the way the moonlight plays off the tiny crystalline grains, kicking up iridescent rays of color wherever they're disturbed. --which is exactly how he knows to hurry over to the edge of a particularly large dune and gaze down its slope at Hythlodaeus whisked away into its valley.]
["So early on"? Just how long does Hythlodaeus plan to keep this up?! Hades, for the first time in his life, is almost grateful for Azem's antics or else he'd barely be able to keep up with him. And here he takes a shortcut - teleporting to the bottom with a crisp snap of his fingers to materialize nearby. He huffs, mouth curling into one of those self-possessed smiles of his which means that Hades is rearing up for a proper interrogation.]
And just what are you up to now? If you fancied a moonlit stroll, you could have simply asked in the usual way.
[But a part of him still is glad that this is far from a predictable, normal (and dreadfully trite) walk through the park -- something he's indulged in more times than he can reasonably remember. Pleasant, but entirely expected.]
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That very lovely face, actually. Even with the upper half of it masked by the stern and noble expression upon the mask denoting his seat. And then he pulls himself to his feet, clutching something in his hand... Which is then pressed to Hades' own.
It is a single grain of this sand. Small, yes. Yet perhaps not as small as one would expect a grain of sand to be- more the size of a thumbnail. Perfectly smooth and rounded by both the other grains, the wind, and the passage of time- and should it be held to the light, one would see a myriad of prismatic colour within.
It is small. Worthless, actually- with no real point or purpose.
Yet it is a memento. And so thus, this single grain finds its purpose. He smiles.]
I fancied some fun. And I feared should I have asked, you'd have found quite a few reasons to refuse.
[It's just them out here, isn't it? They are the only lives for miles and miles- research is not presently going on here. Nor have any concepts reached a far enough stage of trial where they could be expected to thrive here. And...]
Being observed being one of them. You'll have no such excuse here. And since there is no reason not to- you should try this. It's very fun.
[He disappears in another portal. Hades should be able to see it reopen at the top of the dune. Follow or not, it is Hades' decision.]
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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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