#azem rarely summons him but she knows he will always come | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

graha-stan-account · 2 years

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FFXIV Write Day 3: Temper

Temper: 1. Noun. an angry state of mind.

2. Verb. act as a neutralizing or counterbalancing force to (something).

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When Azem first disappeared, she left without a goodbye. Such a departure was rare for her these days, especially so soon after returning to Amaurot. But for Emet-Selch, as was true for the others who loved her, such time always felt too short, no matter the duration.

Hythlodaeus discouraged him from thinking too much on it, insisting their beloved would turn up in short order, or collect them to herself as she sometimes did.

"Rare is it that a moon should pass without some cause for which we are singularly qualified to assist." He chuckled, in an effort to send his Hades' worries fleeing to the dark corners of the room. "Somehow Azem always finds the right sort of trouble."

Emet-Selch tried to take solace that her summoning him was imminent, but even still, something felt wrong. Even for Azem, she seemed overly sentimental, affected, on their final night together.

Worse still, so passed one moon, and several more thereafter, without any word. Convocation meetings went missed, and though Azems enjoyed extended permission in meeting absence due to the nature of their office, attempts to reach her, through official and unofficial channels, were fruitless. What had come instead appeared to be paradise's end. So too, when the sky began to rain fire shortly thereafter, and the magic which once blessed creation, instead scorched, maimed and swallowed it whole.

So Emet-Selch was fair mad with grief when he came upon Venat, who he surmised was on her way to bury herself deeper in the damned archives of the Akademia Anyder.

"What have you done?" he shouted. "On what fool's errand have you sent Astrea?" His hands were on Venat, holding her in place so that she might not vanish as her successor had lest he have his answer.

"Handle yourself!" Venat, not so easily rattled, returned a steely gaze. "I have done nothing to your dearest. You think she walks by any other path but her own? You think so little of her?"

Emet-Selch stumbled on his words. Surely, there was no force which could change the direction of the winds that bore Azem to her destination. He began again in a more measured tone, for he knew laying blame would earn no answers. "Then where is she?"

Venat shook her head slowly, her face sincere, eyebrows upturned, a bittersweet resignation. "I know not. But wherever she is, she fights yet for the star."

"You know then she is among us."

"If she had been lost, we would not be speaking. No doubt you have already scoured the Underworld for her soul many times and come up empty."

Emet-Selch sighed in disgust. He was predictable, and if Venat could see it plain, no doubt Astrea had the foresight to shield herself at the outset from the only two with means to find her. But why?

"She is being censured. Again. The Convocation is desperate for her knowledge. They would seek her removal for failing to perform her duty."

"And what is that duty, Emet-Selch?" Venat was wistful, pained. "Spill more blood upon our beloved star to summon a god?"

"If you cannot help find her, then stand aside."

He tore past her and down the plaza.

And when he saw Venat again, her face covered in soot, her gait weary and eyes steeped in tears, she gave all she could offer as the turbulent heavens stilled.

"I am so sorry. Oh, my friend, you have given more than your fair share..."

Utterly alone, Emet-Selch could do little else but turn away from her to hide his grief.

He needed to find her, if she yet lived. Had she known? Could she feel Hythlodaeus' soul slip from its mortal shell? Feel the swell of dark aether? Did she see the skies quiet?

Perhaps if she had been here, she could have talked Hythlodaeus out of it.

The years pressed on. Had she busied herself with repopulating the star with all manner of creature, curated two by two which she now ushered out in safety? Did she truly labor only for the star, and had she forgotten these few wretched souls left broken without her light and warmth?

Few, indeed. It was only him now. He worried the blasphemous crystal in his fingers, its fractals twinkling like tears, now beheld by eyes long gone dry.

And so when they next convened, after what felt like an age since their very essences had rebelled against them and the sky cried fire, he had no answers for the Convocation. None which they deemed satisfactory. And the Elidibus shade which poured from Zodiark's breast echoed a similar reply.

"Will this sacrifice be enough? To secure everyone passage? Would that we still had Azem here," said Emet-Selch. "Elidibus, is there not value in her oft fresh perspective?"

Elidibus, once one to take such delight in Azem's mischief, her clear gaze into matters, placed his hands securely on Emet-Selch's shoulders.

"You would abandon your duty in search of a traitor? Seek the knowledge of someone who cares not for the star? No. This is not the Emet-Selch I know. See it through," he insisted. "See it through that this star may prosper and our brothers and sisters returned. See it through, until duty's end."

Emet-Selch was sure he would find a like mind in the company of the emissary, another who would not discount Azem out of hand. But it appeared he was wrong. This Elidibus was different, colored by the Convocation's want of a solution, or perhaps equally exasperated with the current circumstances. It was wrong, but it was all that remained.

"Until..." Emet-Selch let out a heavy sigh, "'until duty's end."

#emet-selch #emet selch x azem x hythlodaeus #ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv #my azem #MOAR ANGST *bangs table*

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