[Just as Hades has told him that he cares not for further detailing of his (magically) useless nature, it is natural to him to dismiss what is said regarding the circumstance behind the spell being shared.
Yet even then, he falls to a silence, and he listens. For something about what Hades says then- about it being shared in the hope of improving the other- strikes him as odd. Hm.]
In all of the tellings of the tale, I had not heard it that way before. Most believe that it is a story of two vainglorious mages. The first, having created such a magick, saw no reason to go through the proper channels. He merely passed it to an equally arrogant friend, in the hopes of inspiring awe with his work.
[Indeed, the fact that the aforementioned friend had not been instructed to use it was absolutely not part of the tale he'd heard. ...Hades' own doing, he suspects. It's only an inkling of a suspicion thus far, but he does seem entirely far too modest for the story in common knowledge to be in any ways true.
But. He does not press. For seeing the other boy sink like that- He must be tired. It simply wouldn't do to accost him with questions about something that obviously affects him while he is supposed to be recovering. So. He takes a seat again, his hand slipping into his own hood to move some of his hair behind his ear.]
Talents?
[A small laugh escapes him, for he is, most certainly, surprised.]
Are you sure you're feeling quite well? I have a middling interest in archery. I should hardly call that anything of note.
[A quiet murmur. Perhaps it has been fashioned thus for a purpose, a lesson for others to be wary of their decisions, to be humble, to follow the proper steps and not think themselves better than their fellows. It is such a distortion of what truly happened, and yet... if it would protect his fellows, if it would stop another young mage from making the same mistake, who is he to set the record to rights? That day, when the elders had taken him in for questioning, he had shared with them the whole truth, unflinchingly. ...the whole truth, that is-- save, for it being his friend's own choice to set off the spell. A blight upon his own record, a punishment for Hades alone to bear with no one else the wiser. His friend had avoided him after that. They'd never spoken again.]
[He sighs, this a softer sound that is not exaggerated in the slightest. His mouth twitches, and yet he doesn't offer complaint or protest.]
...then perhaps you should put what I've said out of your mind. I must have spoken in error.
[Hades is really quite thirsty, and hungry - even as his stomach would still attempt to roil within him. He casts a sideways glance at the second poured glass. If Hythlodaeus has no plans to drink of them both, then...]
[Yet he does not ask.]
We both know I'm feeling dreadful, thank you very much.
But I'm being serious. You were able to see that beast from the start, were you not? Once we gathered outside that final chamber, I was finally able to sense its presence, but I never once saw it physically appear. If not for your arrows, and the very fact that it caught fire soon after, I would not have known where to take aim.
...I also fail to understand how the creature was defeated. Did the elders show up to save us immediately after I lost consciousness?
Error? No, that is not your way. I hardly know you, of course- yet I'm most certain of that.
[He highly doubts any of it was distorted out of maliciousness. For there would be no point in curbing such a talented young mages' spirit. Perhaps it is more a matter of slight misrememberances in play as the story got repeated? Or an individual's opinion becoming fact in the next retelling and...
Yes, the water. He'd quite forgotten, and surely, were he to be telling the truth about being interested in dedicating his purpose to Emmerololth's Words, he would likely be quite terrible at that, as well. His arm reaches forward to tap Hades on the shoulder before he hands his glass over, hovering close by to take it when he is finished.
And... His expression turns somewhat distant, his smile that much more wan.]
Yes, I was. I could see it as soon as we spoke to the elders within the city, actually. [Yes, even from that distance away. In a city full of souls, he could detect, he could pinpoint, and he could read it as bad news. Hence, his reservations about actually going in.] It's hardly talent, for talent is something that can be used. More some form of joke. I may be able to see things, yet I lack the strength to do anything about them.
[A light shrug of his shoulders follows, and he takes his seat once more.]
As for your other question... something rather strange did happen. A great tear in reality occurred. Energies poured into you, and darkness covered you. And-
[A great arm suddenly burst from his back. Bigger, even, than the creature. And he closed the arm's fist around it, and squeezed, and squeezed, and... Oh. It was hardly a pretty thing to observe. Even if he had craved retribution for what had happened to the elder within the akademia- watching it explode within that hand's grasp had almost made him very violently ill.]
...And you defeated it. In a single blow, might I add! Then...
[He had locked eyes with this... thing Hades had become. And he had saw him. Really saw him for who he was, as he stared at the clump of shadow that seemed so very different from the great and terrible figures their kind made when transformed. He was utterly unadorned. When the arm had retracted within his back, he was bare- just a mound of shadow about Hythlodaeus' own height, so very dark he did not even reflect light. The only thing of note, really, was his eyes. Four total, staring at him, just as much as he stared at it.
...He'd seemed to cut quite a lonely figure, actually. Seemed fragile, almost. And then, he had fallen to the ground. And Hythlodaeus had stayed with him until help had come.]
...I'm rather pleased you do not remember. Most likely, you'd have been quite ashamed of me for all of the shouting I did until we were found.
[Which Hades also has no way of confirming, having only met the boy today. Even so, he does not think it so difficult to figure out why he would walk back his statements. Let the tale stand as it is, if the fiction of it will do more widespread good than his own version of events.]
[He need not be hovered over, but when his shoulder is tapped, Hades' head lifts slightly and he reaches for the glass - downing the contents slowly and steadily until not a drop remains. And all the while he listens -- and with something of a start at that. His mouth hangs open, and he must brush it with a sleeve to keep a dribble of water from leaking back out.]
So soon? But surely you realize what an incredible skill that is?
[And yet, he finds that he feels wrong in pressing the issue. Is it not very like his own situation? A power which cannot be put to its proper, full potential. Something halted by an obstacle which cannot singularly be overcome. Small wonder Hythlodaeus wants to learn magicks, even though his ability to manipulate aether remains lacking... He'd do well in a group, as the eyes of a team, but perhaps he seeks a more active purpose on this star just as he himself does.]
[Hades shakes his head.]
There was hardly enough time to cast another spell, and so I drew upon the power of the Underworld for help... I don't remember defeating it. Or any of the commotion you claim to have made after.
[He does not remember transforming; he does not remember the other boy staring upon him and seeing him thus. But he does feel the ache and the weight of something upon him, even beyond the expenditure of aether, even beyond the damage he'd taken when his shade was smashed to pieces. It's as if a door has been torn off its hinges, and stands there open, beckoning and unknowable, somewhere in the midst of a complex labyrinth of discovery. It waits for him to find it again.]
...but, thank you, I suppose. For staying with me until then.
[Perhaps the first true word of thanks, for this time there's no sarcasm or impatience to it. Just a hint of that fragile, lonely darkness - only this time, it takes the shape of a boy instead.]
[A vague tilt of his head and his gaze wandering aside for a moment is the only response Hades would recieve as to his first question. And fortunately, it hardly matters. For the matter is not pressed. He stands, collecting Hades' glass and pouring yet another, should the other want it- it would be placed into his hand.]
Is that what you did? [A faint exhale.] I've not heard of anyone who can commune with the other side, let alone make demands of it. ...Well. Aside from Emet-Selch, I would presume.
[The irony of this conversation, of course, would become apparent in a few thousand years. But for now, it is something genuinely put. As well as something else.]
I'm fairly certain had you not done so, I would not be here. So, if you'll reconsider your stance, I would very much like to stay with you until you are recovered.
[And ah. There is that hint again. Although Hades' face is of course, mostly obscured- it seems to radiate off him regardless. So, perhaps some gentle teasing is in order? For after all, even faint annoyance should provide him a viable distraction.]
And I solemnly promise to try very, very, very hard to not make you feel so terrible about your rather orthodox literary habits.
[And he'll accept the second glass, for he is still very thirsty. This one doesn't empty quite so quickly, however, and Hades chooses instead to hold on to it, balanced there in both of his small hands, still propped up by his elbows and knees.]
Not a demand, a request. I'd not be so foolish as to think myself capable of ordering about the sea of all things. But every now and again it rises to my aid when I most have need of it. Occasionally it calls to me, and so I answer in turn.
[The irony is lost on him now, and he does not think it especially strange or special, for it has always been this way with him. He does not fear it, and he's even aware that much of his power likely stems from their connection. He also doesn't mention that he had not wanted to stand there and watch the other boy's life be cut short - that this was the motivating force behind the request. But now it is Hades' turn to tilt his head.]
Is that your reason for being here...? Then it's the Underworld you want. It has naught at all to do with me.
[Though he doesn't say "no", either. He may not be certain how he feels about this Hythlodaeus, but he's definitely not dull by any means. And... oh, he will go quite mad if he's stuck in bed for a week or more without even some parchment and a quill to keep him company. But at the teasing, he grimaces immediately.]
I don't feel at all terrible about them! But if you really want to make yourself useful, mayhap you might cease poking fun at my literary habits and actually fetch me something to read. I won't be able to concentrate on my recovery if I'm bored out of my mind from laying about in bed all day.
[Not entirely true, but. Well, surely he gets the point.]
[So that is the way of it. He can't help but feel surprised as he listens. His eyebrows even raise beneath his mask.
Hades was able to commune with the Underworld. And had the favour of it. Something so large, something so powerful, something that- whichever name someone chose to use for it, Sea or Underworld- simply was millions of souls forming the lifeblood of the very star itself. The very star itself. And the fact that Hades thought it nothing of note, seemed interested in Hythlodaeus' own tendency to be more observant than most, seemed to view his skill in it as something impressive by comparison is truly surprising.
For it bears repeating. This boy was protected by the very star. Did the current Emet-Selch know? They must, surely. His arms move to cross at his torso as he regards him, his voice even.]
Not quite. For the Underworld did not call upon itself to spare me a return. You did- therefore I have a debt to repay to you... Unless I'm mistaken, and it did?
[But then, at the grimace, he can't help but break out into a grin. For yes, it is a complaint. But he can see the assent underneath it. The small, barely there but there acknowledgement and assent. He stands, smoothing out his robe with his hands.]
I'll collect the driest, dourest tomes I can find, and return within the hour.
[Loveless is his preference after all. It makes sense to find similar ones. As well as other things. A few changes of robe, some personal things- a brush perhaps, things to wash himself with- for his comfort. That's unspoken. And:]
If you are asleep when I return, I'll leave them with you and return tomorrow.
[No, he... he isn't mistaken, and Hades is left to balk at the very idea that someone should be in his debt. He stares in disbelief, his head bobbing forward heavily as his shoulders slump beneath him and he sighs so exhaustedly, so affectedly. Oh, there's no point in denying it! Clearly, this Hythlodaeus has perceived the truth. And yet, he isn't about to come right out and admit it - such a thing would be boastful in the extreme!]
[Instead he sits hunched there in the very center of the bed, his eyes fixed on that grin beneath the shade of his mask. He gets the distinct feeling that he should never be rid of the boy, and that he's in for a long, long recovery.]
Fine.
[He scowls again, and mutters under his breath even as his body begins to grow heavy with the need to sleep.]
...as well as some of your own recommendations, I should hope.
[He won't promise to like them, but it would prove even more tiresome if Hythlodaeus finds himself with nothing to do. After all, he already knows what a chatterbox the boy is. Hades won't say 'thank you' for this, but... he may be looking forward to the morrow, just the smallest, subtlest amount.]
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Yet even then, he falls to a silence, and he listens. For something about what Hades says then- about it being shared in the hope of improving the other- strikes him as odd. Hm.]
In all of the tellings of the tale, I had not heard it that way before. Most believe that it is a story of two vainglorious mages. The first, having created such a magick, saw no reason to go through the proper channels. He merely passed it to an equally arrogant friend, in the hopes of inspiring awe with his work.
[Indeed, the fact that the aforementioned friend had not been instructed to use it was absolutely not part of the tale he'd heard. ...Hades' own doing, he suspects. It's only an inkling of a suspicion thus far, but he does seem entirely far too modest for the story in common knowledge to be in any ways true.
But. He does not press. For seeing the other boy sink like that-
He must be tired. It simply wouldn't do to accost him with questions about something that obviously affects him while he is supposed to be recovering. So. He takes a seat again, his hand slipping into his own hood to move some of his hair behind his ear.]
Talents?
[A small laugh escapes him, for he is, most certainly, surprised.]
Are you sure you're feeling quite well? I have a middling interest in archery. I should hardly call that anything of note.
[He really doesn't know.]
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[A quiet murmur. Perhaps it has been fashioned thus for a purpose, a lesson for others to be wary of their decisions, to be humble, to follow the proper steps and not think themselves better than their fellows. It is such a distortion of what truly happened, and yet... if it would protect his fellows, if it would stop another young mage from making the same mistake, who is he to set the record to rights? That day, when the elders had taken him in for questioning, he had shared with them the whole truth, unflinchingly. ...the whole truth, that is-- save, for it being his friend's own choice to set off the spell. A blight upon his own record, a punishment for Hades alone to bear with no one else the wiser. His friend had avoided him after that. They'd never spoken again.]
[He sighs, this a softer sound that is not exaggerated in the slightest. His mouth twitches, and yet he doesn't offer complaint or protest.]
...then perhaps you should put what I've said out of your mind. I must have spoken in error.
[Hades is really quite thirsty, and hungry - even as his stomach would still attempt to roil within him. He casts a sideways glance at the second poured glass. If Hythlodaeus has no plans to drink of them both, then...]
[Yet he does not ask.]
We both know I'm feeling dreadful, thank you very much.
But I'm being serious. You were able to see that beast from the start, were you not? Once we gathered outside that final chamber, I was finally able to sense its presence, but I never once saw it physically appear. If not for your arrows, and the very fact that it caught fire soon after, I would not have known where to take aim.
...I also fail to understand how the creature was defeated. Did the elders show up to save us immediately after I lost consciousness?
no subject
[He highly doubts any of it was distorted out of maliciousness. For there would be no point in curbing such a talented young mages' spirit. Perhaps it is more a matter of slight misrememberances in play as the story got repeated? Or an individual's opinion becoming fact in the next retelling and...
Yes, the water. He'd quite forgotten, and surely, were he to be telling the truth about being interested in dedicating his purpose to Emmerololth's Words, he would likely be quite terrible at that, as well. His arm reaches forward to tap Hades on the shoulder before he hands his glass over, hovering close by to take it when he is finished.
And...
His expression turns somewhat distant, his smile that much more wan.]
Yes, I was. I could see it as soon as we spoke to the elders within the city, actually. [Yes, even from that distance away. In a city full of souls, he could detect, he could pinpoint, and he could read it as bad news. Hence, his reservations about actually going in.] It's hardly talent, for talent is something that can be used. More some form of joke. I may be able to see things, yet I lack the strength to do anything about them.
[A light shrug of his shoulders follows, and he takes his seat once more.]
As for your other question... something rather strange did happen. A great tear in reality occurred. Energies poured into you, and darkness covered you. And-
[A great arm suddenly burst from his back. Bigger, even, than the creature. And he closed the arm's fist around it, and squeezed, and squeezed, and... Oh. It was hardly a pretty thing to observe. Even if he had craved retribution for what had happened to the elder within the akademia- watching it explode within that hand's grasp had almost made him very violently ill.]
...And you defeated it. In a single blow, might I add! Then...
[He had locked eyes with this... thing Hades had become. And he had saw him. Really saw him for who he was, as he stared at the clump of shadow that seemed so very different from the great and terrible figures their kind made when transformed. He was utterly unadorned. When the arm had retracted within his back, he was bare- just a mound of shadow about Hythlodaeus' own height, so very dark he did not even reflect light. The only thing of note, really, was his eyes. Four total, staring at him, just as much as he stared at it.
...He'd seemed to cut quite a lonely figure, actually. Seemed fragile, almost. And then, he had fallen to the ground. And Hythlodaeus had stayed with him until help had come.]
...I'm rather pleased you do not remember. Most likely, you'd have been quite ashamed of me for all of the shouting I did until we were found.
no subject
[Which Hades also has no way of confirming, having only met the boy today. Even so, he does not think it so difficult to figure out why he would walk back his statements. Let the tale stand as it is, if the fiction of it will do more widespread good than his own version of events.]
[He need not be hovered over, but when his shoulder is tapped, Hades' head lifts slightly and he reaches for the glass - downing the contents slowly and steadily until not a drop remains. And all the while he listens -- and with something of a start at that. His mouth hangs open, and he must brush it with a sleeve to keep a dribble of water from leaking back out.]
So soon? But surely you realize what an incredible skill that is?
[And yet, he finds that he feels wrong in pressing the issue. Is it not very like his own situation? A power which cannot be put to its proper, full potential. Something halted by an obstacle which cannot singularly be overcome. Small wonder Hythlodaeus wants to learn magicks, even though his ability to manipulate aether remains lacking... He'd do well in a group, as the eyes of a team, but perhaps he seeks a more active purpose on this star just as he himself does.]
[Hades shakes his head.]
There was hardly enough time to cast another spell, and so I drew upon the power of the Underworld for help... I don't remember defeating it. Or any of the commotion you claim to have made after.
[He does not remember transforming; he does not remember the other boy staring upon him and seeing him thus. But he does feel the ache and the weight of something upon him, even beyond the expenditure of aether, even beyond the damage he'd taken when his shade was smashed to pieces. It's as if a door has been torn off its hinges, and stands there open, beckoning and unknowable, somewhere in the midst of a complex labyrinth of discovery. It waits for him to find it again.]
...but, thank you, I suppose. For staying with me until then.
[Perhaps the first true word of thanks, for this time there's no sarcasm or impatience to it. Just a hint of that fragile, lonely darkness - only this time, it takes the shape of a boy instead.]
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[A vague tilt of his head and his gaze wandering aside for a moment is the only response Hades would recieve as to his first question. And fortunately, it hardly matters. For the matter is not pressed. He stands, collecting Hades' glass and pouring yet another, should the other want it- it would be placed into his hand.]
Is that what you did? [A faint exhale.] I've not heard of anyone who can commune with the other side, let alone make demands of it. ...Well. Aside from Emet-Selch, I would presume.
[The irony of this conversation, of course, would become apparent in a few thousand years. But for now, it is something genuinely put. As well as something else.]
I'm fairly certain had you not done so, I would not be here. So, if you'll reconsider your stance, I would very much like to stay with you until you are recovered.
[And ah. There is that hint again. Although Hades' face is of course, mostly obscured- it seems to radiate off him regardless. So, perhaps some gentle teasing is in order? For after all, even faint annoyance should provide him a viable distraction.]
And I solemnly promise to try very, very, very hard to not make you feel so terrible about your rather orthodox literary habits.
no subject
Not a demand, a request. I'd not be so foolish as to think myself capable of ordering about the sea of all things. But every now and again it rises to my aid when I most have need of it. Occasionally it calls to me, and so I answer in turn.
[The irony is lost on him now, and he does not think it especially strange or special, for it has always been this way with him. He does not fear it, and he's even aware that much of his power likely stems from their connection. He also doesn't mention that he had not wanted to stand there and watch the other boy's life be cut short - that this was the motivating force behind the request. But now it is Hades' turn to tilt his head.]
Is that your reason for being here...? Then it's the Underworld you want. It has naught at all to do with me.
[Though he doesn't say "no", either. He may not be certain how he feels about this Hythlodaeus, but he's definitely not dull by any means. And... oh, he will go quite mad if he's stuck in bed for a week or more without even some parchment and a quill to keep him company. But at the teasing, he grimaces immediately.]
I don't feel at all terrible about them! But if you really want to make yourself useful, mayhap you might cease poking fun at my literary habits and actually fetch me something to read. I won't be able to concentrate on my recovery if I'm bored out of my mind from laying about in bed all day.
[Not entirely true, but. Well, surely he gets the point.]
no subject
He can't help but feel surprised as he listens. His eyebrows even raise beneath his mask.
Hades was able to commune with the Underworld. And had the favour of it. Something so large, something so powerful, something that- whichever name someone chose to use for it, Sea or Underworld- simply was millions of souls forming the lifeblood of the very star itself. The very star itself. And the fact that Hades thought it nothing of note, seemed interested in Hythlodaeus' own tendency to be more observant than most, seemed to view his skill in it as something impressive by comparison is truly surprising.
For it bears repeating. This boy was protected by the very star. Did the current Emet-Selch know? They must, surely. His arms move to cross at his torso as he regards him, his voice even.]
Not quite. For the Underworld did not call upon itself to spare me a return. You did- therefore I have a debt to repay to you... Unless I'm mistaken, and it did?
[But then, at the grimace, he can't help but break out into a grin. For yes, it is a complaint. But he can see the assent underneath it. The small, barely there but there acknowledgement and assent. He stands, smoothing out his robe with his hands.]
I'll collect the driest, dourest tomes I can find, and return within the hour.
[Loveless is his preference after all. It makes sense to find similar ones. As well as other things. A few changes of robe, some personal things- a brush perhaps, things to wash himself with- for his comfort. That's unspoken. And:]
If you are asleep when I return, I'll leave them with you and return tomorrow.
no subject
[No, he... he isn't mistaken, and Hades is left to balk at the very idea that someone should be in his debt. He stares in disbelief, his head bobbing forward heavily as his shoulders slump beneath him and he sighs so exhaustedly, so affectedly. Oh, there's no point in denying it! Clearly, this Hythlodaeus has perceived the truth. And yet, he isn't about to come right out and admit it - such a thing would be boastful in the extreme!]
[Instead he sits hunched there in the very center of the bed, his eyes fixed on that grin beneath the shade of his mask. He gets the distinct feeling that he should never be rid of the boy, and that he's in for a long, long recovery.]
Fine.
[He scowls again, and mutters under his breath even as his body begins to grow heavy with the need to sleep.]
...as well as some of your own recommendations, I should hope.
[He won't promise to like them, but it would prove even more tiresome if Hythlodaeus finds himself with nothing to do. After all, he already knows what a chatterbox the boy is. Hades won't say 'thank you' for this, but... he may be looking forward to the morrow, just the smallest, subtlest amount.]