#I giggled to myself a lot with this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fourteenthz · 3 months

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Greetings and farewell for the fic meme hehehe

sophie!! sorry for taking so long with this one!! my weekends are always a mess lol but tysm for the ask heh <3

contrary to popular belief, I do write ancients fluff too ?? it’s easier to write drama and the title DOES suggest otherwise but this fic is just like multiple times that azemet are disgustingly sappy and head over heels for one another. I have a hard time picking snippets so I cut a bit of one of the parts but still,,,,,, here, take 2k words of speculation about convocation customs and azemet.

wip roundup :)

A selfish thought, really, one that is interrupted as white robes of his colleagues approaches him by touching his shoulder and quickly entering his personal space. Emet-Selch, as a reflex, only sighs and lets the smile fall off his lips as the previous Fandaniel passes by him with a smile and waves at him as he walks down the staircase and then towards the door. Lucky him, having fulfilled his duty with so much confidence, he thinks. These thoughts are immediately voiced as another white-robbed soul approaches him.

“Never seen him this happy,” There's a soft voice speaking by his side, and he doesn't have to look up to recognize whose cheerful voice this was from. Emet's eyes fall back to the lower floor as the previous Fandaniel hugs the newer one, one last time, before walking out of the capitol by each other's side. Probably one last farewell, from one mentor to his pupil. It seemed bittersweet in Hermes' eyes, and Emet-Selch still can't understand why. “Are you still unsure?” That same voice insists.

He is. There's no way young Elidibus will understand any of his worries, or anyone else for the matter of fact — having witnessed whatever happened in Elpis, because neither does he — but he still shakes his head as he looks back at this young colleague of his. He almost seems excited at the celebration, blue eyes shining under the golden reflections around them, and it almost eases Emet-Selch's own heart.

Elidibus nods back at him, knowledgeable of his answer, and then sheepishly looks back at his hands, as if he's about to ask for something. Having picked up part of his mannerisms, Emet could even tell who this was about — as the younger's eyes seemed to get brighter and his mouth opened and closed quickly before he could figure out what to say, unlike the emissary who takes charge at their meeting every moon or so.

But then, the sound of the capital's door opening catches them off guard, only to be stopped by another hand by Emet-Selch's shoulder — and by the by, he hoped they'd stop with this habit sooner — he dares to hope, before Loghrif smirk is now on his vision, covering anything behind her by the wall her body makes linked with Mitron in some kind of hug they always seem to be tangled on. In front of the entire Convocation and without any necessity to do so. It always uncomfortably makes Emet-Selch's face twist, as he convinces himself how unprofessional he feels about all this in a vain attempt to not envision himself doing just the same.

“I'm always glad to know your efforts were wasteful, Emet-Selch.” She speaks, leaning her head above Mitron's and smiling wider. “It's always good to celebrate together, you included, believe it or not.”

Emet sighs, his hands finding his hair to push it backward in an exasperated manner, slightly pulling his mask off and scratching his temples.

“It's not a necessity. I thought we could've moved past it.” He shrugged, finally looking back at the younger of the four of them still standing close by his side. “Be that as it may, some enjoy it, so there's no need to terminate this tradition.” He nods at him, knowing that this white robbed soul loved those as much as his dearest friends does, and how that topic was exactly the one he would touch if they were not interrupted by the pair by their side

Elidibus quickly looks back at the floor, probably embarrassed for a second before he laughs it off. “We share this logic.” He speaks more formally now that they are in the presence of others. “Fortunately, Altima does a great job putting this up so quickly.”

Loghrif laughs again, her hands finding Elidibus and ruffling his hair before speaking something back with a hint of tease at Emet-Selch, following this habit of hers. However, as soon as her hands go in front of him, Emet-Selch’s eyes widen instantly as he hears a familiar laugh echoing through the halls. It's not as loud as Loghrif, but the tone of it makes his attention shift immediately from the pair to the crowd that extends through the building. It wasn't loud enough for him to catch it well, but he knew he was right in recognizing her even if he was deafening for an instant — and in this instant now, he was a little too impatient to look at it carefully. It compels him to look for her soul, rather than the mess of white hair like he usually does, and he finds her in a second.

Standing on the left side of the main hallways, already surrounded by another's soul he didn't care to recognize at the moment, he finally focused back on his vision and found her face already looking up at him. By some miracle, she was already using her mask without him having to warn her about it, but the angle of her head, followed by a tilting to the side, and the smile growing wider shows him that he had already been spotted by her before he could do so. He was outsmarted, as she loved to say, and he stood there frozen for a second before the group by her side excused themselves away, and she nodded back at them, eyes quickly returning to him.

The world doesn't stop, as much as it feels like it does, but Azem doesn’t move from her place either. She crosses her arms, looking up at him, smiles turning into a teasing smirk as she watches him, knowing at how his mind uncomfortably goes through a million thoughts. The world doesn't stop because in her gaze Azem instantly seems to pull him to a different universe, away from the people around him, where there can be just the both of them. He grounds himself by putting his hand above Elidibus' shoulder, only to go after that feeling by himself.

“I trust you don't mind me leaving if you excuse me,” he says, not realizing he just cut off Mitron's mid sentence before walking off from between both women and going directly downwards the stairs. He doesn't notice how the pair looks back at Elidibus confused, and neither how amused the younger one looks before he's far away into pulling himself between the crowd and towards her.

He can hear her laugh again, and he isn't sure how, but he does, as he jogs his way and then, suddenly, feels a damn hand on his shoulder again. He had to hold a curse back before he stared at the owner of such a firm grasp over him.

“Do you have a moment?” He doesn't, but Lahabrea is the one asking, so he feels obliged to stop on his tracks.

“Working in the middle of our celebration, Lahabrea?” He asks back, his voice slightly sarcastic, masking how he truly feels like excusing himself from this conversation.

“You mind?” Now, at this exact instant, he really does.

“Not in the slightest,” he lies, checking one last time as he notices her soul moving away from her previous spot. He sighs in defeat and indulges in the conversation for a moment.

“I have been meaning to talk to you about... my particular work, back in Elpis.” He started, somewhat unsure on how to explain, which seemed strange considering he was doing so in such a crowded place. “Not today nor here, but if you're free sometime this week, I'd like to take your time.”

Emet-Selch was free this week about ten minutes ago, not so much anymore, but he'd have to deal with it himself. He would do it, of course, because with how anxious Lahabrea seemed about this, it was important. Before he nods in agreement, he starts again.

“Just, I would ask for your discretion about it — especially with her. She probably knows more than I'm willing to share, things I would rather if you didn't know.” Lahabrea confesses, almost amused, but nothing visible about it on his face. Makes Emet-Selch confused for a moment until his eyes go past him, “speaking of which.”

And then, a warm hand not only touching but holding onto his shoulder, with a gentle and still firm grasp, squeezes him above his robe.

“Gentleman,” it's sarcastic and still sweet with the soft tone that's somewhat unlike how this familiar voice usually carries. It still warms his entire self. “Would you mind if I stealth him for a moment, Speaker.”

Lahabrea chuckles out a scoff, tapping Emet-Selch's arms before nodding. “Sometime this week, yes?”

“With how pressing it seems, I'll return to you tomorrow.” He speaks, trying to mask any excitement. How embarrassing.

“Of course,” Lahabrea speaks back, not buying his acts at all, and nodding back at Azem. “See you.”

He's out of sight in an instant, and just when he sighs and starts with “Are you making a habit of this? Interrupting others-” her arm is linked with his and pulling him away through the crowd. He spills a curse or two through the way, though Azem only chuckles in response to it.

Emet-Selch lets himself be taken away, pulled by Azem running like a child until she enters one of the smaller rooms by the side of the great halls and lets go of his hands. He lets himself fall back and close the door behind him, leaning back at it while watching as she turns around back at him and smiles, a few fulms away from him now, the distance finally closing by her own body slowly going towards him.

“Impressive how much enjoyment you take in being so...” He speaks, trying to sound as he did seconds ago until she finally gets to him, pulling her body the closest she can get while resting both hands by the side of his mask — to which his hands quickly find her wrists, holding her gaze. “reckless.” He finishes his sentences.

Holding her arm in place doesn't stop her hands from pulling his mask out, he realizes. Azem’s left hand is holding it by his shoulder now while the other rests by the side of his face, her thumb caressing his cheeks and his eyes as soon as he lets his eyelids fall shut. It stops on his temple, and his eyes open up to her smile a lot closer to his.

“You do seem to enjoy it as well, so why wouldn't I?” She whispers quietly, and Emet just hums in back for a moment, noticing how her hand keeps playing with his mask and poking his shoulder non stop. This, he realizes, this he doesn't mind.

“Point taken.” It's clearly enough an end of conversation for her to nod back just quickly before leaving a light peck over his lips.

And then another down his jaw, close to his neck, before grinning back her way up to rest their foreheads together when he groans in annoyance. Azem laughs, nudging the tip of her nose by his chin so her mask could fall back — and though she still kept holding his, her black one falls on the floor — which causes Emet-Selch to sigh and take his free hand and hold her chin so she could stare back at him. She looks like a child, cheeky smile over her lips and mischievous reflecting into her eyes. How done he is, for anyone else now except for her — for this smile, this glimpse over her eyes and that burning soul. His hold tighter slightly, and her smile grows wider while he pulls her lips to his.

“I'm afraid you have forgotten your obligations as an amaurotine, dearest.” He whispers above her lips, and Azem brushes hers above his.

“Bold words for someone not following the protocols either,” she giggles, his hold eases slightly to hold her jaw now.

“It was against my will.” His voice is unreadable for anyone, except for her. Azem could clearly hear the stiffness he forces out, formality out of nowhere, and his eyes fixated on her own — self-control at its finest. Effortlessly tough, contrasting with the way his other hand found her waist.

“And since when do you, Emet-Selch, allow yourself to be coerced like this?” She asks back, and he almost rolls his eyes because — clearly, by the smile above her lips and the way her eyes shine with proudness where his eyes fell over — Azem knew the answer and the reasons why those exceptions were made in the first place, and for who.

“I'm not boosting your ego.” He answers, sounding annoyingly charming.

“Aw, come now!” She laughs, pulling her weight down while her hands hang around his neck now. Emet groans by surprise, and she brings their faces closer. “I deserve that much. A welcome back gift, even — seeing you didn't prepare anything else to greet me with.”

He huffs now, pulling her closer while he exchanges their places so he can cage her against the door — hand still on her face while his right one supported his weight on the door so he wouldn't crush her, not that she ever minded, he knew. “Now, aren't we ungrateful,” he scoffs quietly, trying still to push back the smile that creeps over his lips. “I let myself be dragged by the convocation hallways, away from serious matters that should be discussed. You take my mask off, mock my title while doing so, and here I still am. Being so patient with you.”

“You did allow it yourself, Emet-Selch.” She speaks his name quieter and a lot slower back at him.

The truth is out and, just then, Emet realizes that if he dared to talk back to her now he would end up boosting her ego, after all, there’s just so much he can try to mask; not that she bought any of it.

With the frown gracing his features now, Azem realizes he's running low on banter. He doesn't speak back, but his eyes fall back over her lips, and his hand caresses her cheekbone before his thumb falls from her chin to rest above her throat — his hold is a lot softer now, just as his eyes. Still, the certainty was visible. There's not a discussion to be won, but he still lost, and when this happens, he finds very little patience to do anything else.

So, to put him out of his misery, Azem pulls both hands down his hair and rests them above his chest. “Hades,” she calls softly. He doesn't hum as a reply, nor does his eyes leave her lips, but his grip tightens and loses it in response. “Take me home, will you?”

He doesn't answer either, but now anyone who'd seen could see his prompt reply — how the dark clouds engulfed both of them until there was not a single trace they'd been there save for the dark mask forgotten on the floor.

#again. remember I don't proofread until I'm done with it and i'll only be done with this one once I convince myself to not make #the last farewell be on the final days LMFAO I'm really trying to go only good vibes on this one chief... the angst in some other parts are #just harmless. I'm trying to give emet-selch the fluff he deserves for a bit but MAN this prompt is just so fitting for azem and sundering #angst needs you know... also this part was written like few months ago before the tales of dawn and pandae so sorry if something feels off #anyway. giggles at them. everyday thinking about emet being obsessed with azem is permanently damaging my brain but that wont stop me.#again TYSM FOR SENDING THIS ONE!! sorry for all typos + 2k words thrown at u etc etc hehe hope this makes sense !!#ask game #my writing #kelly says #wol posting #edit: also wow like they are REALLY on each other on this one you guys... it's not near suggestive but they are like ON each other a lot by #the end... idk I just thought it deserved a heads up?? I'm usually lowkey on the fics I post lol this is one is NOT one of them :)#aethergazing

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