[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.]
[The drily skeptical tone is impossible to miss as Hades lifts his head to gaze up at the peak from below.]
[Fun?]
[Truthfully, he hasn't done something like this - sliding down a hillside - since he was a very young child, still toddling about with his hands held by each of his parents in turn (both long since Returned now). The thought is... well, preposterous. The seat of Emet-Selch, gaily tumbling down sand dunes in the dark! So much of it getting stuck inside his robes, clinging to his hair and other unspeakable places...]
[...But perhaps that's the entire point. And, he must admit, Hythlodaeus is correct. There's no one here to watch or judge. Not for malms and malms. No one but them.]
[Hythlodaeus portalling away interrupts his thoughts, and he's left to stare down at the single grain of prismatic sand pressed into his palm - tiny, unspecial, and yet profound. It's one among many, and yet the simple act of scooping it up has somehow turned it into a treasure. He commits it to a space tucked between two threads of aether from which he can retrieve it later, and sighs with a lift and falling of shoulders - needlessly dramatic, for they both know within a few moments he'll be teleporting again to the top.]
[Even from this distance he can spy the amusement in Hythlodaeus' smile, in his soul, and even just that is impossibly magnetic. And so he vanishes to step out next to him once again. He hardly fears the height, but--oh, this is ridiculous! And he scowls.]
...I can't believe I'm allowing you to talk me into this.
[Except he can.]
Fine, then. Shall we make the journey together? The last thing I need is you doubled over up here, cackling as I go down on my backside.
[Another small huff, and at last he sits dutifully, his mouth twisted into a look of (forced) displeasure.]
[A hand moves- playfully at that- to his chin. Honestly, the thought of what Hades described- him going down on his backside- seems like it'd be most enjoyable viewed from the top! Yet that, apparently, is a pleasure not to be.
...He supposes he can settle for the second-best option. And his affirmation is shown with an impish smile, as well as the extension of his hand.]
Yes. Let's.
[Should Hades offer his own hand, he will clasp it in his own. And, he will turn to face the edge. And.
He leaps. Unexpectedly! And his momentum should be enough to have Hades follow.]
[Oh, he knew he should never have trusted that smile...! Never, ever, ever! For it seems like barely a breath passes between them, his own fingers wrapping securely around the side of Hythlodaeus' smaller hand when--a lurch! And then his arm is being yanked! And then, with a strangled gasp, he finds himself in full motion with little to no control over his own path. In fact, it's all he can do to attempt to keep his seat!]
[The wind whistles past his ears, puffs up into his face, and beneath him the sand scuffles and flies up. Oh, it would all be very beautiful, he supposes. Moonbows chase them all the way down the slope - unspeakably brief for all their loveliness, and as they swoop by, the landscape unfolds about them - surprisingly vast and intricate for nothing but sand. Distant slopes form braids of light and shadow, and mist rolls off a nearby body of water.]
[Reckless, ridiculous but--not unenjoyable, mostly. His grip tightens on Hythlodaeus (no doubt laughing beside him rather than above!) and all is well.]
[--until he hits a bump.]
[And then another.]
[It's upon the third jolt that Hades does lose his balance, and he spins around at an angle, ricocheting the rest of the way down on his side as he tries to maintain a hold on his friend. The valley soon rushes up to meet Hades, both swift and dark, and at last gravity pounces upon him and he jostles and skids to a stop.]
[Hades is left to sputter there on sand, shaking his head much like a dog as he suffers to get an arm beneath to pull himself back up. And oh, you can be certain he is muttering under his breath -- a full string of complaints and grievances and ugh--sand, sand everywhere!]
Of all the miserable, bumpy, uncomfortable ways to descend a hill, of course you would choose this one! I most certainly hope you're satisfied.
[Oh, he's never going to hear the end of this once both of their feet are on firm(ish) footing oncemore, and Hades has the capacity to take in a sufficient amount of air in order to properly complain. Yet. He finds that this is worth it. They're hurtling down the dune at an utterly breakneck pace now- far faster than what he originally went down it, and they're unbalanced.
One jolt, two jolts, three- at the third, he's jolted toward Hades, his vision is marred by the sensation of moving to the side, of a black cowl, of hair the purest of white(?)- and the pair of them are thrown over each other, tumbling over, under, over, under- skidding and sliding and rolling and-
A bump, and a stop. And Hades is above him, his weight enough to push him down unto the sand just slightly. He is looking up, and at the sound of the other's voice, that reticent, almost overexaggeratedly hurt tone that so often comes out when he begins to complain, he opens his eyes with a faint smirk on his lips to properly enjoy the fruits of his handiwork.
...And. Oh. Hades' hood is still up, yes. But his mask...
There is a strong brow. Yet is is flesh and bone- quivering with a myriad of microscopic little lines between, and there is that hair again. It is so bright. It simply is as perfectly white as a first snow, and his skin is akin to marble. Pale, yes. But strong. Unblemished. And eyes- two quite beautiful, actually, yet intent eyes- ones that display the signs of an apparent lack of sleep in dark circles below but are piercing.
Why is he looking.
His eyes are wide as he stares up at Hades, his long-awaited, long-anticipated tirade falling upon deaf ears. And quickly, without response, without thought, he vanishes from beneath him in another portal.
[It's still within the early stages of this tirade that Hades becomes aware, with some considerable embarrassment, that he has landed not upon a dune, but half-sprawled on top of Hythlodaeus. He pauses, just long enough to shift his weight off of him, his chin tilted down to make sure that he's still in one piece even though he's all but certain he will find the most infuriatingly smug grin imaginable tucked there beneath the white of his mask. When those golden eyes focus upon Hythlodaeus' face, however... that is not what he finds. Instead, his companion appears to be staring up at him in shocked horror, his mouth agape in an expression that is so far removed from the one he's come to expect that Hades himself actually flinches back - his mind trying to assess what on Etheirys could possibly have happened in the span of a moment.]
[And then his own eyes widen as he realizes that his own cowl is gathered around his neck. The familiar covering that always rests upon his nose, that outlines his entire world in shadowed red - it is gone. His mask is off. He is utterly and shamelessly barefaced before him.]
[Before he can even act Hythlodaeus vanishes, and Hades stumbles into the empty space where once he had been, the red lacquer mask revealed half-buried in the sand just out of arm's reach. Hades lunges for it and scrambles to his feet as he casts about for his friend. His heart is beating madly in his throat, and yet he cannot feel the slightest trace of his presence. It is simply not there, replaced instead by a sinking, leaden sensation in the pit of his stomach.]
['Focus,' he reminds himself. And he reaches. And he looks. Hythlodaeus has fled very far away, hovering just along the edge of his perception as a flickering sphere of pastel green -- and...]
['No!']
[Without sparing a moment more to replace his mask, Hades thrusts himself into yet another space almost before the portal can fully form.]
[He looked before he leapt. He has no idea as to where his own portal leads- and before he knows it, he is falling. The bright blue of the sky whirls nauseatingly in all directions around him, the air is rushing up so fast he can hardly breathe and-
Oh no. He can see clouds below. Clouds that swiftly turn into treetops which depict some ancient woodland growing larger and larger by the second and-
He tries. He really tries to conjure another portal. Something, anything to collect him and open out unto lower elevation but-
It's not working. His mind is in panic, his fingers are fumbling, he's falling and falling and falling and-
He can't breathe. He's seconds away from passing out and he's wholly certain this will be the end of him. There would be no surviving it. His vessel would be torn to pieces by the boughs of the trees, what left would be utterly broken upon the land below.
And his soul... It would return early. Too early.
The thought has him thrash in the air all the more, yet by the time he is close to realizing the first of his predictions, his body is almost limp, unmoving.
Until he is saved. His mind's eye sees the aether below him (or is it to the side?) and his vision fills with an unfathomable colour. A purple both deep, and vibrant. ...Has he already returned? Is this the Underworld, and is this a last visit?
His question is answered when the portal reopens. And he finds himself not floating, no drifting, for there is no ebb and no flow. Instead...
...Leaves. From their impact, fluttering gently down throughout his field of vision. And oh. He needs to remind himself to breathe. So breathe he does- a great, loud inhale and then a coughed exhale, and now he is unaware he is without his mask. ....Not that it even occurs to him to check. For there are arms around him and-]
....
Y-you-
[Saved him, yes. Normally, he would not insult Hades by stating something so asinine. Yet...
[And he hopes that Hythlodaeus appreciates that such an act in itself was no small feat. To leap into rushing oblivion at a close enough distance to capture and grasp his thrashing and then suddenly limp form, to have the presence of mind to pry open another portal by force, one to hover there in the midst of the sky big enough for the two of them to plummet into...]
[It's pure good fortune that has them sprawled on a bed of multicolored leaves, Hades' own breathing a ragged rasp as the pulse beneath Hythlodaeus' hands thunders and storms ceaselessly.]
[And yet Hades' grasp on him does not loosen, and there is no eruption of worried shouting and fuming. He's--still maskless, he knows. And before Hythlodaeus can panic even further, a strong hand cradles the back of his head and (quite carefully) tilts him into the crook of one broad shoulder.]
Don't look, then. You're safe.
[Dimly he's aware that his fingers find themselves buried not in the creases of his hood, for it is far too soft and sleek. Lilac... Just like those rebellious locks from the halcyon days of their youth. Back when he found this person completely and hopelessly insufferable.]
[Not much has changed in all that time, but perhaps now Hades does not find his ability to be a curse in the slightest. Normally he would shepherd souls after they have begun their descent back unto the star, but for his closest friend, he will make an exception just this once.]
[And at last he huffs.]
Although I've no doubt you'd make a fascinating addition to the Lifestream, I suspect neither you nor the Underworld are yet prepared for it.
[Saved him, yes- though the words do not come. His body is in open revolt against all he wishes for it to do. He is trembling as if hypothermic, gripping the other's cowl hard enough for his fingers to cramp. For all intents and purposes, he is quite openly clinging to Hades in this pile of unraked and untidied leaves, his teeth grit and his eyes closed as he buries his head into his shoulder as if he were still falling.
But a combination of things- Hades' considered tone, the firm, unshaken shoulder- the way he smells so... nice when so close, as well as his fingers threaded through his now loose hair cause him to calm some. Yet it is slow.
And it does not come without his body's last act of rebellion. A secret, told. Though muffled.]
I would not like to return without you. Under any circumstance.
[It's, all told, the very last sort of response that Hades expects. Hythlodaeus is shaken, he reminds himself, for he can still feel him trembling against him much like one of the many leaves they've found themselves tossed upon.]
[But for all it may be the sort of prattle one spills in the face of imminent and unexpected death, he does not think it untrue.]
[He is, perhaps, one of the very worst people on this star for calming anyone, but at last Hades lets his palm stroke over that hair - just once, cautiously. He tries not to let himself be distracted by the way their bodies seem to fold all too perfectly against one another, or by the feelings that stir inside his breast at being so clung to, as if he is someone else's salvation, a pillar, a hero.]
[...Pure rubbish, that. And yet he would be, if such a role were needed.]
As if I'd let you go that easily. Worry not, the Underworld and I are on quite familiar terms. If I so wanted, I could simply pluck you back out again.
...Besides, it'd be far too quiet if you were gone. How ever would I concentrate on anything without you constantly interrupting my work to assault me with your affections?
Perhaps you'll be the last soul I usher unto the star before relinquishing my seat to another.
[Oh, it's meant to be the dramatics that Hythlodaeus knows so well, yet the moment the last of the words leave him, Hades becomes aware that... they are all precisely true. How dreadful his days would be without Hythlodaeus here to pester him. How normal and expected, even anticipated, have such antics become...]
[Oh, Hades truly is the worst person ever to calm another. This is the single most worst attempt he has ever experienced at being calmed, and likewise, this is the very worst manner of agreement he has ever heard. Being plucked out and assaults and all.
Yet nonetheless, he is calmed. He is soothed- and he feels his heart slow- cease feeling as if it is to burst from his chest, and rise, slightly- into the back of his throat. He pulls his head from where it is cradled upon one of the other's shoulders, and he looks up to him.
What Hades sees would be lightly tanned skin. Impossibly high cheekbones, thick yet shapely eyebrows and large eyes with a bright pink light emitting from them, complimenting the lilac colouring of his hair. His visage is completed with a narrow nose, and full lips. And...]
I would not be your last. ...I would travel with you. Side-by-side, in the hope of being fortunate enough to spend my next life with you. As a friend, or...
[He casts his gaze downward. And he shifts slightly, bringing his hand to the side of Hades' face, taking the shape of his jaw. And then he leans upward, to lightly, tentatively touch his lips against his. And against them, he speaks.]
[Hades' silence is interrupted by movement, and what he spies next would steal away even the most self-assured declaration he could possibly muster. He should be turning away, should have the decency to avert his gaze and afford Hythlodaeus a moment to retrieve his mask -- for it is gone.]
[He cannot.]
[In place of a mask is perhaps the most lovely thing Hades has ever laid eyes. An altogether beautiful face, and eyes he can well imagine being filled with no small amount of laughter and mischief.]
[He can barely make sense of the words, even so coming from that familiar mouth in that pleasant voice he knows so, so well.]
[This is Hythlodaeus?]
[But it must be; of course it is. And he is...staring at him like a complete imbecile. His deep-set eyes are as wide as they can possibly expand, so stunned that Hythlodaeus could easily lounge there and count each of the brighter flecks that surround the dark pupils honed on this visage that slowly fills every corner of his awareness.]
["Or?" He wonders dimly. And then he is being kissed so very softly, and the feel of fingers against his bare cheek proves both startling and mesmerizing.]
[It's very nearly terrifying, how deeply he wants to return that kiss all of a sudden, to crush his face against his and refuse to let him go. And yet, he cannot bring himself to move or utter even a word in response.]
["Or?" Hythlodaeus couldn't possibly be implying that he imagines them in a future life as lovers... could he? For what reason? Since when? Besides, they hardly need wait until the next life for such an arrangement!]
[]Astute and as keensighted as he is, it is not entirely within his power to read every situation. And oh, he's misreading this one. Hades' silence indicates horror to him, his lack of movement indicates a faint disgust. And... Oh, he feels his heart sink.
Well, he's certainly put his foot in it. Or so it seems. A breath comes from him, rueful, short- and he pulls himself away, keeping his eyes on the ground. Really, this is quite the awful week. A relationship totaled. A friendship totaled.
And oh, the thought of the friendship ending has him feel worse- far worse- than he had expected. Hades' silence is met with his own as he stares down unto the withered leaves, and he almost wishes, just slightly, that the mound would part. That it would swallow him whole, entirely and utterly, and that...
He would be out of sight. Out of perception. Utterly and entirely gone, just so that this wouldn't be half as awkward as it was.
He wills himself to speak- his tone foreign to himself, voice sounding, to him, like someone else entirely was speaking.]
Well. If one were to be charitable about this whole situation, I should not be blamed for trying. You are quite handsome underneath that mask, after all.
[Oh, that was pathetic. His hand moves to the side of his head, brushing a few stray wisps of lilac behind his head.]
[And oh, he has been completely misread. Surely there is no horror nor disgust to be found within the steady shimmering of Hades' soul.]
[That stunned expression of his is soon replaced by one of utter confusion and befuddlement. Perhaps it is a shame, then, that Hythlodaeus has taken to staring at the earth, for he misses the way Hades' eyes follow him even there, and so too does he miss the way those words summon bright, unmistakable color to his face -- and then does his brow twitch and movement returns.]
[Even so, he is no less perplexed.]
...I have no use for your apology, Hythlodaeus. I've long since ceased being offended by anything that passes your lips.
[He's not being eloquent, he worded it thus for a reason. His head bows, and yet his gaze slides sideways to watch him, questioning.]
But what reason is there in hoping for something that is well out of our control? Should you not, instead, focus your attention upon the life you've currently been gifted?
Whatever it is you're trying to do, you've still more than sufficient opportunity to try. And if this is related to the gratitude you spoke of before, then at least hear my answer before you accept defeat.
[He does not deign answer the last. Of course they will be returning. Eventually, and together.]
[I could. He thinks to himself, at least with regard to hearing the proffered answer. For the focus of his life had already been decided. (...Although oh, were things to go the way he suspected they were to go, with an abject refusal, with this awkwardness permanent, he may very well have to find new purpose. That, in and of itself, is a disconcerting thought.)
He busies himself, in his thoughts, with picking, individually, each leaf that had settled upon him. From inside of his sleeves, upon his legs, even raising himself to a sitting position and tackling the act of removing the leaves from the inside of his hood- his eyes slowly trailing back to Hades as he does so.
And.]
Then you have my apologies regardless. For- [Oh, he really has to put himself in Hades' head to allow the rest to come.] being quite so untoward. Imagine! Almost ending you as well as myself with such a rudimentary miscalculation, then accosting you with such a suggestion!
[A laugh follows, yet it does not show in his eyes. It is dry. Almost as if he indeed, has already ascertained defeat and subsequently, expects a parting. His lower lip then retreats unto his mouth, just for a moment, as if committing the vague taste of the other to memory. As a lesson. A point of failure, to learn from. To never repeat.
His eyes move away oncemore. And a leaf, still within his hand, is crushed.]
If you would prefer to give me your answer, please do. But you should not feel obligated.
[For it is such a ridiculous proposal. He would like to finish- to round his defenses perfectly, to spare Hades at least some awkwardness. ...Yet he finds he cannot.]
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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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[The drily skeptical tone is impossible to miss as Hades lifts his head to gaze up at the peak from below.]
[Fun?]
[Truthfully, he hasn't done something like this - sliding down a hillside - since he was a very young child, still toddling about with his hands held by each of his parents in turn (both long since Returned now). The thought is... well, preposterous. The seat of Emet-Selch, gaily tumbling down sand dunes in the dark! So much of it getting stuck inside his robes, clinging to his hair and other unspeakable places...]
[...But perhaps that's the entire point. And, he must admit, Hythlodaeus is correct. There's no one here to watch or judge. Not for malms and malms. No one but them.]
[Hythlodaeus portalling away interrupts his thoughts, and he's left to stare down at the single grain of prismatic sand pressed into his palm - tiny, unspecial, and yet profound. It's one among many, and yet the simple act of scooping it up has somehow turned it into a treasure. He commits it to a space tucked between two threads of aether from which he can retrieve it later, and sighs with a lift and falling of shoulders - needlessly dramatic, for they both know within a few moments he'll be teleporting again to the top.]
[Even from this distance he can spy the amusement in Hythlodaeus' smile, in his soul, and even just that is impossibly magnetic. And so he vanishes to step out next to him once again. He hardly fears the height, but--oh, this is ridiculous! And he scowls.]
...I can't believe I'm allowing you to talk me into this.
[Except he can.]
Fine, then. Shall we make the journey together? The last thing I need is you doubled over up here, cackling as I go down on my backside.
[Another small huff, and at last he sits dutifully, his mouth twisted into a look of (forced) displeasure.]
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[A hand moves- playfully at that- to his chin. Honestly, the thought of what Hades described- him going down on his backside- seems like it'd be most enjoyable viewed from the top! Yet that, apparently, is a pleasure not to be.
...He supposes he can settle for the second-best option. And his affirmation is shown with an impish smile, as well as the extension of his hand.]
Yes. Let's.
[Should Hades offer his own hand, he will clasp it in his own. And, he will turn to face the edge. And.
He leaps. Unexpectedly! And his momentum should be enough to have Hades follow.]
Here we go!
[The wind whistles past his ears, puffs up into his face, and beneath him the sand scuffles and flies up. Oh, it would all be very beautiful, he supposes. Moonbows chase them all the way down the slope - unspeakably brief for all their loveliness, and as they swoop by, the landscape unfolds about them - surprisingly vast and intricate for nothing but sand. Distant slopes form braids of light and shadow, and mist rolls off a nearby body of water.]
[Reckless, ridiculous but--not unenjoyable, mostly. His grip tightens on Hythlodaeus (no doubt laughing beside him rather than above!) and all is well.]
[--until he hits a bump.]
[And then another.]
[It's upon the third jolt that Hades does lose his balance, and he spins around at an angle, ricocheting the rest of the way down on his side as he tries to maintain a hold on his friend. The valley soon rushes up to meet Hades, both swift and dark, and at last gravity pounces upon him and he jostles and skids to a stop.]
[Hades is left to sputter there on sand, shaking his head much like a dog as he suffers to get an arm beneath to pull himself back up. And oh, you can be certain he is muttering under his breath -- a full string of complaints and grievances and ugh--sand, sand everywhere!]
Of all the miserable, bumpy, uncomfortable ways to descend a hill, of course you would choose this one! I most certainly hope you're satisfied.
cracks knuckles!
One jolt, two jolts, three- at the third, he's jolted toward Hades, his vision is marred by the sensation of moving to the side, of a black cowl, of hair the purest of white(?)- and the pair of them are thrown over each other, tumbling over, under, over, under- skidding and sliding and rolling and-
A bump, and a stop.
And Hades is above him, his weight enough to push him down unto the sand just slightly. He is looking up, and at the sound of the other's voice, that reticent, almost overexaggeratedly hurt tone that so often comes out when he begins to complain, he opens his eyes with a faint smirk on his lips to properly enjoy the fruits of his handiwork.
...And.
Oh. Hades' hood is still up, yes. But his mask...
There is a strong brow. Yet is is flesh and bone- quivering with a myriad of microscopic little lines between, and there is that hair again. It is so bright. It simply is as perfectly white as a first snow, and his skin is akin to marble. Pale, yes. But strong. Unblemished. And eyes- two quite beautiful, actually, yet intent eyes- ones that display the signs of an apparent lack of sleep in dark circles below but are piercing.
Why is he looking.
His eyes are wide as he stares up at Hades, his long-awaited, long-anticipated tirade falling upon deaf ears. And quickly, without response, without thought, he vanishes from beneath him in another portal.
This one has no aether trail.]
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[And then his own eyes widen as he realizes that his own cowl is gathered around his neck. The familiar covering that always rests upon his nose, that outlines his entire world in shadowed red - it is gone. His mask is off. He is utterly and shamelessly barefaced before him.]
[Before he can even act Hythlodaeus vanishes, and Hades stumbles into the empty space where once he had been, the red lacquer mask revealed half-buried in the sand just out of arm's reach. Hades lunges for it and scrambles to his feet as he casts about for his friend. His heart is beating madly in his throat, and yet he cannot feel the slightest trace of his presence. It is simply not there, replaced instead by a sinking, leaden sensation in the pit of his stomach.]
['Focus,' he reminds himself. And he reaches. And he looks. Hythlodaeus has fled very far away, hovering just along the edge of his perception as a flickering sphere of pastel green -- and...]
['No!']
[Without sparing a moment more to replace his mask, Hades thrusts himself into yet another space almost before the portal can fully form.]
Hythlodaeus, watch out!
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Oh no.
He can see clouds below. Clouds that swiftly turn into treetops which depict some ancient woodland growing larger and larger by the second and-
He tries. He really tries to conjure another portal. Something, anything to collect him and open out unto lower elevation but-
It's not working. His mind is in panic, his fingers are fumbling, he's falling and falling and falling and-
He can't breathe. He's seconds away from passing out and he's wholly certain this will be the end of him. There would be no surviving it. His vessel would be torn to pieces by the boughs of the trees, what left would be utterly broken upon the land below.
And his soul...
It would return early. Too early.
The thought has him thrash in the air all the more, yet by the time he is close to realizing the first of his predictions, his body is almost limp, unmoving.
Until he is saved. His mind's eye sees the aether below him (or is it to the side?) and his vision fills with an unfathomable colour. A purple both deep, and vibrant. ...Has he already returned? Is this the Underworld, and is this a last visit?
His question is answered when the portal reopens. And he finds himself not floating, no drifting, for there is no ebb and no flow. Instead...
...Leaves. From their impact, fluttering gently down throughout his field of vision. And oh. He needs to remind himself to breathe. So breathe he does- a great, loud inhale and then a coughed exhale, and now he is unaware he is without his mask. ....Not that it even occurs to him to check. For there are arms around him and-]
....
Y-you-
[Saved him, yes. Normally, he would not insult Hades by stating something so asinine. Yet...
He's still hyperventilating, okay.]
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[And he hopes that Hythlodaeus appreciates that such an act in itself was no small feat. To leap into rushing oblivion at a close enough distance to capture and grasp his thrashing and then suddenly limp form, to have the presence of mind to pry open another portal by force, one to hover there in the midst of the sky big enough for the two of them to plummet into...]
[It's pure good fortune that has them sprawled on a bed of multicolored leaves, Hades' own breathing a ragged rasp as the pulse beneath Hythlodaeus' hands thunders and storms ceaselessly.]
[And yet Hades' grasp on him does not loosen, and there is no eruption of worried shouting and fuming. He's--still maskless, he knows. And before Hythlodaeus can panic even further, a strong hand cradles the back of his head and (quite carefully) tilts him into the crook of one broad shoulder.]
Don't look, then. You're safe.
[Dimly he's aware that his fingers find themselves buried not in the creases of his hood, for it is far too soft and sleek. Lilac... Just like those rebellious locks from the halcyon days of their youth. Back when he found this person completely and hopelessly insufferable.]
[Not much has changed in all that time, but perhaps now Hades does not find his ability to be a curse in the slightest. Normally he would shepherd souls after they have begun their descent back unto the star, but for his closest friend, he will make an exception just this once.]
[And at last he huffs.]
Although I've no doubt you'd make a fascinating addition to the Lifestream, I suspect neither you nor the Underworld are yet prepared for it.
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But a combination of things- Hades' considered tone, the firm, unshaken shoulder- the way he smells so... nice when so close, as well as his fingers threaded through his now loose hair cause him to calm some. Yet it is slow.
And it does not come without his body's last act of rebellion. A secret, told. Though muffled.]
I would not like to return without you. Under any circumstance.
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[But for all it may be the sort of prattle one spills in the face of imminent and unexpected death, he does not think it untrue.]
[He is, perhaps, one of the very worst people on this star for calming anyone, but at last Hades lets his palm stroke over that hair - just once, cautiously. He tries not to let himself be distracted by the way their bodies seem to fold all too perfectly against one another, or by the feelings that stir inside his breast at being so clung to, as if he is someone else's salvation, a pillar, a hero.]
[...Pure rubbish, that. And yet he would be, if such a role were needed.]
As if I'd let you go that easily. Worry not, the Underworld and I are on quite familiar terms. If I so wanted, I could simply pluck you back out again.
...Besides, it'd be far too quiet if you were gone. How ever would I concentrate on anything without you constantly interrupting my work to assault me with your affections?
Perhaps you'll be the last soul I usher unto the star before relinquishing my seat to another.
[Oh, it's meant to be the dramatics that Hythlodaeus knows so well, yet the moment the last of the words leave him, Hades becomes aware that... they are all precisely true. How dreadful his days would be without Hythlodaeus here to pester him. How normal and expected, even anticipated, have such antics become...]
[...]
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Yet nonetheless, he is calmed. He is soothed- and he feels his heart slow- cease feeling as if it is to burst from his chest, and rise, slightly- into the back of his throat. He pulls his head from where it is cradled upon one of the other's shoulders, and he looks up to him.
What Hades sees would be lightly tanned skin. Impossibly high cheekbones, thick yet shapely eyebrows and large eyes with a bright pink light emitting from them, complimenting the lilac colouring of his hair. His visage is completed with a narrow nose, and full lips. And...]
I would not be your last. ...I would travel with you. Side-by-side, in the hope of being fortunate enough to spend my next life with you. As a friend, or...
[He casts his gaze downward. And he shifts slightly, bringing his hand to the side of Hades' face, taking the shape of his jaw. And then he leans upward, to lightly, tentatively touch his lips against his. And against them, he speaks.]
If you are in agreement.
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[He cannot.]
[In place of a mask is perhaps the most lovely thing Hades has ever laid eyes. An altogether beautiful face, and eyes he can well imagine being filled with no small amount of laughter and mischief.]
[He can barely make sense of the words, even so coming from that familiar mouth in that pleasant voice he knows so, so well.]
[This is Hythlodaeus?]
[But it must be; of course it is. And he is...staring at him like a complete imbecile. His deep-set eyes are as wide as they can possibly expand, so stunned that Hythlodaeus could easily lounge there and count each of the brighter flecks that surround the dark pupils honed on this visage that slowly fills every corner of his awareness.]
["Or?" He wonders dimly. And then he is being kissed so very softly, and the feel of fingers against his bare cheek proves both startling and mesmerizing.]
[It's very nearly terrifying, how deeply he wants to return that kiss all of a sudden, to crush his face against his and refuse to let him go. And yet, he cannot bring himself to move or utter even a word in response.]
["Or?" Hythlodaeus couldn't possibly be implying that he imagines them in a future life as lovers... could he? For what reason? Since when? Besides, they hardly need wait until the next life for such an arrangement!]
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[]Astute and as keensighted as he is, it is not entirely within his power to read every situation. And oh, he's misreading this one. Hades' silence indicates horror to him, his lack of movement indicates a faint disgust. And... Oh, he feels his heart sink.
Well, he's certainly put his foot in it. Or so it seems. A breath comes from him, rueful, short- and he pulls himself away, keeping his eyes on the ground. Really, this is quite the awful week. A relationship totaled. A friendship totaled.
And oh, the thought of the friendship ending has him feel worse- far worse- than he had expected. Hades' silence is met with his own as he stares down unto the withered leaves, and he almost wishes, just slightly, that the mound would part. That it would swallow him whole, entirely and utterly, and that...
He would be out of sight. Out of perception. Utterly and entirely gone, just so that this wouldn't be half as awkward as it was.
He wills himself to speak- his tone foreign to himself, voice sounding, to him, like someone else entirely was speaking.]
Well. If one were to be charitable about this whole situation, I should not be blamed for trying. You are quite handsome underneath that mask, after all.
[Oh, that was pathetic. His hand moves to the side of his head, brushing a few stray wisps of lilac behind his head.]
...My apologies for offending you.
[And quickly:]
Shall we return?
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[That stunned expression of his is soon replaced by one of utter confusion and befuddlement. Perhaps it is a shame, then, that Hythlodaeus has taken to staring at the earth, for he misses the way Hades' eyes follow him even there, and so too does he miss the way those words summon bright, unmistakable color to his face -- and then does his brow twitch and movement returns.]
[Even so, he is no less perplexed.]
...I have no use for your apology, Hythlodaeus. I've long since ceased being offended by anything that passes your lips.
[He's not being eloquent, he worded it thus for a reason. His head bows, and yet his gaze slides sideways to watch him, questioning.]
But what reason is there in hoping for something that is well out of our control? Should you not, instead, focus your attention upon the life you've currently been gifted?
Whatever it is you're trying to do, you've still more than sufficient opportunity to try. And if this is related to the gratitude you spoke of before, then at least hear my answer before you accept defeat.
[He does not deign answer the last. Of course they will be returning. Eventually, and together.]
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He busies himself, in his thoughts, with picking, individually, each leaf that had settled upon him. From inside of his sleeves, upon his legs, even raising himself to a sitting position and tackling the act of removing the leaves from the inside of his hood- his eyes slowly trailing back to Hades as he does so.
And.]
Then you have my apologies regardless. For- [Oh, he really has to put himself in Hades' head to allow the rest to come.] being quite so untoward. Imagine! Almost ending you as well as myself with such a rudimentary miscalculation, then accosting you with such a suggestion!
[A laugh follows, yet it does not show in his eyes. It is dry. Almost as if he indeed, has already ascertained defeat and subsequently, expects a parting. His lower lip then retreats unto his mouth, just for a moment, as if committing the vague taste of the other to memory. As a lesson. A point of failure, to learn from. To never repeat.
His eyes move away oncemore. And a leaf, still within his hand, is crushed.]
If you would prefer to give me your answer, please do. But you should not feel obligated.
[For it is such a ridiculous proposal. He would like to finish- to round his defenses perfectly, to spare Hades at least some awkwardness. ...Yet he finds he cannot.]
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I was wondering when you'd use that icon.
hades in pjs is perfect usage tbh
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