Emet-Selch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sadlonelyspires) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
musehalla2019-12-23 01:47 pm
sadlonelyspires) wrote in musehalla2019-12-23 01:47 pm
"A Crumbling Tower" for astera
and little breezes, waves and walls and flowers
and there's moonlight every single night.
As I'm locked in these towers
So I'll meet my death.
But with my last breath I'll sing to him I love
and he'll see my face in another place,
And with the glass above"
-Shalott by Emilie Autumn
[ Am Araeng was an inhospitable wasteland and nothing that anyone could say would convince Emet-Selch otherwise. It was hot and musty and the light hit in full force much more then it did in the other areas. In fact he had joined them on their journey through Rak'tika for the mere fact that the light concentrated within that area was a little bit more forgiving to a creature of Zodiark. An excess of light physically hurt an Ascian by their very nature and due to the Lightwarden, such things as light was amplified to excess and took it's toll on him energy wise.
Oh but he had been watching the Scions and the Warrior of Light, though safely from the shadows and with a glass of wine within his hands. Since shadows were hard to come by within the desert clime, he had kept mostly to his void portal, but luckily he could view them well enough from that distance and he had been there every step of the way, from their foray into golem reconstruction to Malikah's Well. He was quite sure that Y'tajha knew as well because ever so often she would turn around and look in his direction and if he had been there in the flesh, they would've surely made eye contact.
And all because of a little thread of awareness that now ran betwixt them-- placed there perhaps by fate.
When the night returned to Am Araeng, he'd be hard pressed to admit it but he was glad-- it meant that he could draw himself right out of hiding though he still did not have an over-preference for the arid dryness of the desert, but at the very least he could make himself known in the evening when everything was a little bit cooler. But he was not going to lie, there was a part of him that was growing ever more concerned with each infusion of Light within the Warrior of Darkness; there was a growing sense of 'this may not work out like how he expected to' that filled him with unease. When he had sat there high atop his tower looking down upon the group running to Il Mheg, he had seen possibilities-- not eventualities.
Now those eventualities came hurtling to the forefront.
And yet, he still held out hope that this could be the change that was needed, no required-- that the Warrior of Light could harness a Calamity in such a way that a bridge could be forged between the Darkness and the Light and perhaps true balance could be achieved; and perhaps that balance could be the key to Calamities being restored and Amaurot being reborn. He was not such a fool that if the possibility existed that both could harmoniously exist, he wouldn't reach for it.
He just really hadn't banked on the last Lightwarden taking such a toll upon Y'tajha and he had seen it as she exited the well, the tiredness that emanated from her like a flowing river. He tried not to think about how that made him feel, it was a rather distressingly bleak thought that he tried to push that thought aside. After all, he had a mission to accomplish and she did too and nary shall the two meet. But it didn't stop that strange feeling of concern that he felt for her. Weakness though it was.
Leaning against one of the wooden shacks that was erected all along the town of Twine and looking up at the sky once again, but this time there was purpose, he was waiting for the miqo'te to come out, he knew she'd be there. He highly doubted that with the excess of light aether coursing through her veins that she'd even be able to sleep adequately-- and he was going to do something that he'd never done previously in the past and that was 'discreetly ask if she was alright. ]
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Y'tajha was not, by any means of the imagination, a desert person. Sure, she was counted among the citizens of Ul'dah, but really only because that had been her first port of call within Eorzea. In reality, she felt much more comfortable in more temperate climes - or even better, frozen ones. Fixing golems under the burning desert sun had never been her idea of a good time, and never would be.
Still, a Warrior of Darkness would do whatever she had to do, in order to vanquish the everlasting Light of this place. And once again, she had succeeded. With her companions, she had ventured into Malikah's Well, the hiding place of the Lightwarden Storge. It had fallen to her party, its Light absorbed into her own...
...and now, Y'tajha was tired. So, so tired.
And yet, she was wide awake. Her veins were on fire, bright Light pulsing through them so strongly that she was almost sure she could see it under her skin. She felt sick, manic despite her exhaustion, feverish from the inside out. It was a feeling - a pain? she wasn't sure - like nothing she had ever felt before, and try as she might, it kept sleep dancing just out of her reach.
It was with a sigh that Y'tajha slipped from the small bed where she was meant to be sleeping off the worst of the battle, stepping outside into the (thankfully cool) night air of the desert town. The stars shone bright in the clear night sky, and for a moment, a weary smile found its way to her face. She was becoming more and more certain that this mission would kill her, in the end. But when the stars looked so beautiful, twinkling against the black field of the sky, she couldn't find it in herself to feel any regrets.
A figure caught her eye, and she turned her head toward it. Maybe surprise would have caught her, if she hadn't felt his presence behind her so many times over the course of the last few days. But she had. She'd turned, more than once, positive that she'd find him right behind her, ready with his usual brand of sardonic wit. Every time, there had been nothing behind her but empty air. And yet, she was certain of it: He'd been watching.
(Y'tajha was sure, though, that he'd been watching her during the whole of her stay here on the First. So why was it only now that she could sense it?)
Despite the exhaustion, despite the pain(?) she was feeling, Y'tajha squared her shoulders and stood as tall as possible for someone of her height. She was, after all, still too proud to let him see her in her weakness. And only when she felt she'd postured herself well enough to hide it did she pivot, letting her steps take her to his side. ]
Emet-Selch.
[ Not a warm greeting, perhaps, more of an acknowledgement; but worlds better than the one he'd received from her, last time. ]
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[ He said this with a rather sardonic nod; if she had missed his sardony, well at the very least she'd get a refreshing taste of it now. He watched her as she approached though he didn't push himself up from the shack, instead he motioned for the place just a space over from him. Close enough to keep an appropriate distance and yet here they could converse peaceably. Thankfully the Scions were all wrapped up in their own business and would pay little attention to where he was.
Oh he was sure that there had been questions on his whereabouts but he'd not been too inclined to reveal himself. Even though it was not precisely his goal, he had to admit that the the night did feel good against his skin. The excess of Light did adversely affect Ascians in the way that other excess elements couldn't-- it burned the skin vaugely and it made Emet-Selch a trifle nauseous, all told. ]
Congratulations on felling another Light Warden..
[ Oh but he could see the light flowing through her a little bit stronger, breaking up her aether in cracks that didn't look seamless. All of this he could see within his vision and why did that make him feel something other then elation. He should've been by all accounts glad that it was nearing the breaking where it would be sink or swim-- because it then would be a branching out, a something closer to the end that he desired. ]
But what of you? How do you fare?
[ He wasn't going to put too fine a point on it, for he didn't want her to think anything entirely too much of it. But there would be questions as his entire attitude had been not caring about anything though he was well enough with giving Y'tajha information here and there about the Ascians and their dealings ]
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Still, she was glad he'd waited until they could be alone. The others would have never understood.
Except for maybe Urianger, but he was on thin ice with Y'shtola as it was.
The question made Y'tajha grimace. She felt like every single little part of her being was bleeding Light. She could almost feel it oozing from her pores. It hurt(?), and she was exhausted, as if the energy she was exerting was pulling from her very soul, trying to split it into pieces.
Of course, she was hardly about to tell him any of this. ]
I'm fine. [ The words were bitten out, too sharp, a clear tell of her dishonesty. She sighed internally, trying a smile on for size. ] Enjoying the cooler air now that it is once again dark. Perhaps it will come as a surprise to you, but I'm not particularly fond of the desert heat. It's easier to breathe, now.
[ Or it should have been, anyway. In practice, she didn't feel much different, but she blamed that on the Light swimming constantly in the corner of her vision, dancing on her tongue with every word spoken, fogging her mind enough that at first she didn't even register that an Ascian was asking after her well-being. When the realization came to her a moment later, she raised one brow in his direction. ]
Why? Back to hoping I'll fail?
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[ He did not take much stock in the fact that she was the member of a tribe of miqo'te that lived in the desert sun to be honest, which was probably why so early on it had been easy to drop the 'Y' in her name even though that was definitely not proper. After all he couldn't fathon why anyone should set store by anyone other than themselves. Of course he could feel the light flowing through her, it was almost painful to look at the cracks in her skin where it threatened to overtake her. However there was nothing that he could do about this and there was no other way. ]
If I had wanted you to fail-- I wouldn't be on this little excursion with you and your ragtag band of friendship-- you would've already have fallen by now as I would've lent my assistance to Eulmore.
[ after all he had been about ready to broker a deal; that was until he had seen the Warrior of Light and then he had walked right now, following her so that he could 'observe' her more closely. That bespoke a fascination, but it also told to the fact that at the very least he could trust her not to stab her in the back, only if he saw that she was going to fail, that was when he'd act. But right now it almost seemed like she would succeed-- she certainly held more grit than thousands that he'd seen come before ]
I see that the last Lightwarden has made you a bit tetchy-- Oh, but I can't imagine that what you're doing is pleasant at all.
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[ Oh, but didn't her very tone seek to undermine her words? Y'tajha sighed, leaning more of her weight into the side of the shack, her eyes closing. Light danced behind the closed lids, making her grimace. Still, for all her determination to be difficult, she knew that Emet-Selch was right.
About him not joining them, that is. They could have beaten him, had he sided with Eulmore. With the possibility that he could still be an enemy in the end, she had to believe that. Allowing herself to think anything else was tantamount to suicide.
Another sigh, and Y'tajha's eyes fluttered back open. ] The Light. It's... tiring. [ The words escaped her before she even realized it, and she cursed herself internally. What happened to not showing him any weakness? It was too late now, though. With another sigh, she looked down at her hands, examining them for bleeds of Light. Pointless, she knew - she did not have Y'shtola's eyes, or Ryne's sense. But the intensity of the feeling made her look nonetheless. ] And yet, it keeps me from sleep.
[ It was the most she would say, she promised herself. He'd seen too much weakness from her as it was. And the last thing her friends needed was for him to turn on them when she felt weaker than she'd ever felt before. ]
Still, the show must go on. Only one left, now.
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Of course it would keep you from sleep-- in fact 'ere it is probably stomping on whatever nerves you have left and simply begging to be acknowledged.
[ Daresay it had gotten worse, another lightwarden crawling around a form that did not have a whole lot of space to begin with. He wondered what the Scions were doing to alleviate it, if of course they were doing 'anything' to alleviate it or shoulder the burden; ah but the Light Warrior's entire path was, it seemed, one to be wakled ultimately alone ]
One warden left before you ultimately save the First from certain destruction; the history books shall sing your praises and children in the future will hear stories about your bravery in bringing the blessed night back.
[ his points to the sky in a gesture that was rather dramatic all things considered. He watched the stars glimmering, cold and lonely up there in the darkened sky. Yet, they were ultimately a thing of joy to be celebrated. But at a price ]
And still this is worth it to you? The infinite pain and the burden of not being able to sleep? Of not being certain if your next day will be your last?
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[ And there it was again: that sharpness in her tone, that broken edge to her words, the taste in her mouth like shattered glass and blood and anger and the godsdamned Light. Her hands clenched into fists, nails biting into the flesh of the palms, and when she looked up at him once more, it was with the burning determination for which she was famous... although perhaps with a hint of something softer, tired... sadder. ]
If I die? [ When I die. ] It's okay. [ Y'tajha smiled, her gaze turning up toward the night sky, the lights of the constellations blinking against the field of black. The answer in front of her, written in the stars of a different world. ] If the price, to give all these people their lives back, is mine? I'll gladly pay it.
[ It wasn't that she planned to stop fighting. Only that... well, he spoke the truth: the Light was wearing her down, snapping her into pieces until she felt she had nothing left to give. Tired. But when had that ever stopped her? Countless others had fallen to protect what they knew was right. Perhaps this fall was destined to be her own. The fire in her veins certainly seemed to think so. ]
But aren't you the same? You've given so much of your life in pursuit of your own goals... [ She looked up at him again, a hint of curiosity sparking behind the glaze of pain and exhaustion. There was no judgment in her voice; her words were genuine, her understanding of his mission having softened her somewhat in attitude, if not action. ] Or is death where you cross the line?
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I've been 'alive' for a very very long time, there comes a certain weariness along with it, so perhaps I should be glad for a little shut-eye if I should fail; or if I should succeed but at a cost to myself--
[ and perhaps that is what he was doing, he was assessing the Warrior of Light, to determine if she was worthy should he come to his end by her hands, this had been a test of sorts to see what she should gain if he should lose. He was much too pragmatic and he did not tend toward the over-confident like Lahabrea did-- ah, any such confidence, time had bred out of him and replaced it with practicality. Hadn't it been practicality that had caused him to opt to follow the scions on their journey across the First?
But there was a tiredness to him as well-- a seeking tiredness that was surfeit within his entire presence, and he felt it to the depths of his soul-- it was like a tree that was slowly losing its leaves, preparing for the inevitable-- perhaps there was a selfish part of himself that wanted the rest, wanted to just not worry about anything any longer no matter what the outcome ]
Your zeal-- ah, but it does remind me of someone that I used to know, a long long time ago.
this Light is poisoning her brain, I'm pretty sure.
No, but she knew what it meant to be tired. ]
Then we're more alike than I'm sure either of our companions would ever like to admit.
[ Her eyes trailed back to the sky, looking to where the Spear would glow among the stars, if she were home. The stars were different in the First, patterns in the sky she didn't recognize - although luckily, she could at least still draw from their aether. If she died here, would she make it back to the Heavens of the Source? A brief, fleeting question, gone almost as quickly as it surfaced, her attention drawn back to her companion.
It was strange, perhaps, but his words struck a cord in her, an odd sense of something tugging at the back of her mind. The Echo, perhaps, trying to give her a vision of a mind she couldn't see into. She frowned, trying to will the feeling away before it made her headache even worse. And yet the words came from her lips, almost unbidden: ] Someone you knew... A friend? Enemy?
[ Or perhaps someone caught strangely in between, the way the two of them were, now. ]
Re: this Light is poisoning her brain, I'm pretty sure.
[ He knew of course the stories of the constellations, he knew the First variences; in fact his favorite was the first and especially fond was he of Il Mheg's legends, of the elves of eld who had disappeared just before the Light had been corrupted, corrupting. But there was the light and then there was this and he could see that the light was wearing upon her, it was almost painful to watch.
Which was why perhaps he was a little bit more-- dare one say, gentle with her, his voice was a bit lower, a little less dramatic, more matter of fact. It was like because of her state and situation, he was dialing it back a tone, trying not to be as abrasive, as instigating it. And that would be perhaps his downfall. ]
She was never my enemy, though we ended up on opposite sides at the very end-- I could never consider her anything other than a dear friend for she had her reasons as did I, though I could not understand her reasoning..
[ He was talking to the miqo'te as a friend-- as a confident and no, not as an adversary at all. This was dangerous territory yes, but likewise it was also perhaps.. natural ]
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Was she one of your people who didn't believe in Zodiark? [ The question was perhaps a little tentative, an unusual -- when dealing with him, anyway -- softness on her own lips; whether it was in answer to his, or out of respect for his long-gone friend, Y'tajha didn't know. Hells, perhaps it was even borne from their bonding a mere few days ago over alcohol in the Crystarium. And she wouldn't admit it to anyone, especially not herself, but being able to talk like this felt good. Normal.
Almost like they'd stood and talked like this before.
The feeling of déjà vu came suddenly, and a frown creased Y'tajha's eyebrows, fingers creeping to brace herself more firmly against the wall where she was leaning. In her Light-bled vision, for a moment, he looked like a towering shadow, and... The strangest part of it was that it didn't seem strange.
Gods, she needed to lie down. But as usual, stubbornness would keep her from admitting as much.
Instead, she posed a query, her voice still gentle. ] What happened to her?