#to be fair to him he is FURIOUS at the Convocation for deciding on the second and third sacrifices to restore the star

[sunderedazem]

14 - bitter

Ancients? :)

You KNEW what you were asking for. So have some Elidibus POV of Azem and Emet-selch's break-up before the Sundering.

-

There are shards of red on the steps, and utter silence in the square. He blinks. Etheriys feels a little like a dream now, with the soft roaring of so many souls dulling his senses- but this sting of sorrow and shame he feels, distantly. It aches in a way he's sure he's forgotten, almost. And yet he and all those within yet remember…

The people are watching (not saved- but soon) stricken, frozen - all but one, whose cowl hangs down his back, whose silver staff is still tight-gripped in white-knuckled fingers. Who is walking away with a snarl on his lips and tears streaming down his bare face. Who has before the entirety of Amaurot denounced the Convocation, who has accused them of forgetting their duty, who has- has accused him of bias- 

They had to save the star. They have to save the star. And He was their answer. Is their answer. The roaring in his ears will never cease, now. He thinks the stretch of his very self was a small price to pay for the blue of the sky. He knows it. He volunteered.

So many had. And yet-

Azem storms out of the city center with his staff aglow in Light, wreathed round himself like a shield against- something, and he does not look back. There is only the sway of his long white braid as he departs, and Elidibus- watches it. Watches the narrow shoulders and frail stature recede into the distance, until shattered and broken and burning buildings obscure him from sight completely. Watches as one of Themis's closest friends turns his back on Zodiark and all the salvation he promises.

Elidibus does not understand it. He- remembers. Azem had pleaded with the Convocation to stay Zodiark's summoning, to give him time to find an alternative. Half the lives of their people was too awful a price for him - and Elidibus cannot condemn him for that love he has for their star and people, cannot condemn him for his dissent. Azem is the Traveler - the Shepherd. It would go against everything his seat stands for to agree. Lahabrea had not agreed - nor had Pashtarot - but in the end, Elidibus could not be partial. And thus Azem was given his time to find another way. But should Amaurot begin to burn- then they would have to act.

But he returned too late. Three days too late. And his solution was…incomplete. An effort commendable, to be sure. A solution worthy of gentle praise, and perhaps use later. But the star had fallen to ruin, and Zodiark could restore it. And then- then the star could restore their people. And Zodiark would save them all. He would save them.

He will. No matter if one man refuses to understand. Elidibus and Zodiark will save him too.

No matter how bitter that salvation tastes.

There are shards of red on the steps. Emet-selch is kneeling among them, his hands shaking, gathering the pieces one at a time. He is not crying, Elidibus thinks. Not yet, at least. He seems more stunned than anything. Of course, he is not the only one, if the way the silence still rings deafening has any meaning.

Azem has always had a temper, though it was not often apparent. But this- this by far had been the worst outburst Elidibus had ever seen from anyone, let alone from Azem. And worst of all, it had been a willful misinterpretation- a cruel misinterpretation, made solely to make a point about their plans to sacrifice the lesser creatures of the star to return those given to Zodiark to life. And- and perhaps Azem even had a point, if a misguided one.

He had always been thin of aether, incapable of all creation magicks no matter how simple, and sickly for it besides. His elevation to the Fourteenth Seat had been long delayed by a discussion of his health and the risks posed to his own wellbeing, rather than any disagreement with regard to his temperament or accomplishment as a researcher and theorist both. But to use his own recurring illness - which Emet-selch had cared for him through countless times - as a bludgeon to say that the Convocation must therefore count him among those lesser creatures-

I too am thin of aether. Weak, sickly- imperfect. Incapable of creation. Are these the only requirements for you to be willing to slaughter living beings in order to undo the willing sacrifice of half our people? I gave you another option! Those who are thin of aether - thinner than me! - may use this dynamis to restore our star, and you dismiss their capabilities save for their worth as livestock? You swore to hearken unto my solution, Emet-selch- you promised me you would have faith I would find a way and now you- you reject what I have found in favor of dishonoring your seat and returning the dead to life? Fine then! I count myself among these lesser beings freely, for I am more akin to them than you. And should you wish to wet Etheriys with their blood, you will start with me. And you will draw the blade across my throat with your own hands.

But even if he had a point- Emet-selch had only stared, utterly lost for words. The entire square had been quieter than death. Even Zodiark had seemed to still. And then, caught in the folly of sentiment, Emet-selch had stepped forward, had reached out a hand, had called- 

Helios- Helios, please-

There had been a whirl of black, a flash of red- and then Azem's mask had shattered on the wall above Emet-selch's head, had shattered into shards of his office even as his sigil had glared red over silver eyes.

I am Azem,  Emet-selch. I revoke the privilege for you to call me by my personal name- not only do I not know this man you have become, but us lesser creations have no names to speak of, now do we?

Elidibus had not known how to stop him. Emet-selch had just dropped his hand, jerking a little as if he had been struck by a physical blow.

And then Azem had gone.

And now he is gone. And Emet-selch is on his knees, gathering the shards of that shattered mask, cradling them carefully, as if he could piece together what was broken. As if he could repair a heart threaded with thorns, or another cracked down the center. As if saving the mask would save the man.

“...he will come back,” Emet-selch whispers then, staring at the bitter, broken ashes of Helios in his hands. “...I- I will have that much faith in him.”

And Elidibus- and in Elidibus, the dark waxes strong, and he lays a hand on Emet-selch's shoulder. 

“Nay- we will save him, my friend,” he promises, and watches as golden eyes behind a red mask snap to him and glaze over. There is weight in his words now - the promise of a thousand thousand souls and the hope of their people. “We will save him, and the star as well. We will.”

The doubt and grief in Emet-selch's eyes disappears, wiped clean by faith. And Elidibus smiles, heart heavy with certainty and the knowledge that in time, Themis's dearest friends will mend the rift born between them here. They will save Azem - they will - and the star he so loves, and all the people too. Elidibus will not allow for any end other than perfect salvation. The bitterness of these sorrowful days will fade, and Azem will smile again, and look upon Emet-selch with that loving mischief in his eye, and this will all be but a distant memory. 

They will. 

He will make sure of it.

-

Enjoy the angst/keep the change ya filthy animal

[texting-an-alien]

The Welders: Chapter Ten (Half of it anyways)

Chapter Ten: Sick Now, Sick Later

*This chapter was really long so I decided to split it up into two halves*

Every bone in my body was aching. My muscles felt as though I had just run 5 marathons in a matter of seconds. This was the second time, today, that ended with me regretting eating those five course meals for the past few days. Delia was leaning over me as I sat hunched over on my knees, her hands were on my shoulders as she tried to pull me up and stop me from throwing up. She was asking me something, shouting almost, but it was hazy and blurry.

“Amy...Amy...what’s going on? Where’s Patrick?” I finally heard and I looked up, my eyes almost rolling to the back of my head.

“Maine," I mumbled, the words were sloppy and I doubted that she even understood what I had said.

“He’s still there? How did you get here?” She slowly asked. She placed her hands on my cheeks and made me look straight at her. I had no control over my head as I swayed back and forth. I let the ampoule roll from my fingers and she looked down, wide eyed.

“Amy, is that Patrick's?” Delia whispered, reaching down to grab it.

“What’s going on!” Someone shouted and Delia looked over her shoulder, her dark hair nearly whacking me in the face.

It was Lee and Griffin. They were both running full force towards us before sliding to their knees beside me.

“She traveled here alone," Delia explained and slightly handed me off to Lee who propped me up with his arm around my shoulders.

“Strong girl," Griffin praised and I attempted to smile.

“No, not good," Delia whispered and pointed down to Patrick’s ampoule.

Griffin looked at me with wide eyes and whispered, “Patrick. Amy, is he okay? Where is he? Why isn’t he with you.”

“There were a bunch of people… mercenaries… something like that. Daisy said we had to leave. Patrick wouldn’t listen,” I replied, finally regaining some composure.

“And he gave you his ampoule? Why would he do that? He knows…” Lee asked Griffin and Delia.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” Delia said, Patricks ampoule still frozen in her hand. “We need to get you some medicine and then figure out why the Merc’s where there. Can someone go get Barney.”

Griffin was already on his feet but instead of running towards the mansion, he was running towards his tent. He appeared in a second, his own ampoule clutched in his hand.

“Griffin no, we need to-” Delia tried to say.

“Gimme,” Griffin insisted and snatched Patrick’s ampoule from Delia.

“Griffin! Wait! You can’t just run into Maine when it’s infested with Mercs!” Delia shouted. Griffin was already long gone, possible already through the gate and on his way to Maine.

Lee sighed, “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He’ll get Patrick back.”

Delia rolled her eyes and dragged me to my feet. I stumbled and waited for the world to stop spinning before taking lurching steps toward Barney’s home. Lee was still allowing me to lean on him, my nails digging into his navy blue sweatshirt. Delia had left my side and I presumed she had either gone to tell Cameron what had happened or was trying not to punch a tree.

“Have you been smoking?” I asked, suddenly noticing the faint smell of smoke.

“You just illegally traveled here and you want to make small talk?” Lee questioned, almost angrily.

“What do you mean illegally?” I replied. Lee didn’t answer. He only stared straight ahead as he dragged me up the stairs and into the library.

Ferris’s eyes widened behind his glasses and he ran to my side. Lee continued to be silent as the two boys helped me into a worn out chair. Ferris disappeared for a moment and returned with a glass of water which I gladly accepted.

“What on earth happened?” Ferris asked as I gulped down the water.

I was going to answer when Lee tugged on Ferris’s sleeve and dragged him to the side.

From the little bits of, “...alone… stupid Patrick…” and “Barney is… just got here… waited?” I could tell I was most likely in trouble. I may have also gotten Patrick in trouble. The boys continued to talk to me while glancing at me nervously. Well, Ferris was nervous.

“Anybody want to loop me in?” I said loudly, catching their attention. “Why did you say I traveled here illegally?”

“Because you did. Which means they’re going to come looking for you. Which means it’s going to stir up a bunch of drama we thought was dealt with.” Lee sighed.

“Surely they won’t try and use this against us,” Ferris offered hopefully.

“Oh, I’m sure they will. They lost the stupid feud. They’re desperate at this point. Anything and everything is fair game.” Lee replied.

“Once again, anybody want to loop me in?”

There was a woosh, fluttering book pages, and a few blown out candles before Patrick and Griffin were standing at the entry way. Griffin was holding onto the back of Patrick’s shirt, slightly holding him back. Patrick looked embarrassed while Griffin’s face was in a constant frown.

“You good, Amy?” Patrick asked, laying his eyes on me. I went to nod but Lee butted in.

“Patrick Preston, if you screwed up everything that we have been working on for the past 20 some odd years…” Lee trailed off.

“Relax Lee, everything’s gonna be okay,” Patrick shushed him and began to move towards me.

“Okay!? Nothing is gonna be okay! She broke the rules. You broke the rules. You know what breaking the rules gets you? Oh, that’s right. Mercenaries and the Convocation on your tail. It also get’s the freaking Texas camp, aka the camp who has tried to destroy us before, aka the camp that is home to some very nasty people nobody wants to talk about, aka the biggest camp in all of bloomin’ America, snooping in on us and trying to make a case against our little camp. Wow, sure sounds familiar doesn’t it? Hmm, one of those two things has already happened which means option number two might as well already be here!” Lee ranted and shouted.

The room went dead silent as we all looked to the seething boy in front of us. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and wiped his long dark hair from his face. Lee placed both of his hands on his temples and sighed.

“Patrick… we cannot do that again,” Lee pleaded.

“We’re not going to,” Griffin quickly added.

“That’s the thing. We are. History is going to repeat itself and when Rob finds out…”

“Lee!” Someone heavily shouted and we all looked up.

Barney stood at the top of the staircase, a grim look on his face. His tattooed arms were covered by a gray tweed jacket while his tie was a bright orange. His blue eyes were now a dark blue and, from the way he was gripping the railing, he looked angry. Furious. Seething.

“Sorry, Barney,” Lee said and bowed his head.

Barney turned his disappointed look from Lee to Patrick and said, “Patrick bring your cousin up here immediately.” He went to turn back to his office but looked back and continued, “If anyone in the camp finds out about the Convocation or the Mercenaries in Maine, I will send you straight to Balor.”

Everyone seemed to understand exactly what that meant and a terrified expression twisted it’s way onto my friend’s faces. Patrick reached for my hand and we, slowly but surely, made our way into Barney’s office.

I gladly slipped into one of the high backed chair and rested my head against the worn leather. Patrick took a seat beside me and I couldn’t help but feel like we were in the principal's office.

“Barney, before anything, I just wanted to tell you- it wasn’t Amy’s fault. None of it. I was the one who gave her my ampoule so she could get back here. None of it was her idea and I doubt she knew what was happening. She didn’t know any better,” Patrick rushed.

“Quiet. That doesn’t matter now. We don’t know who or what the Mercenaries were after, but it obviously wasn’t Amy. That rule has been in question for a long time,” Barney sighed, leaning his ampoule staff against the wall behind his chair. “Besides, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Patrick looked so taken aback by the fact that he wasn’t in trouble that he struggled  with the words, “T-then what?”

“Amy’s initiation ceremony. You had informed me that that was a the top of the agenda for today,” Barney explained.

“That would be my fault. He got me all excited about Maine and I practically ripped the ampoule out of hands trying to get there. Also, what rule did I break?” I answered before Patrick could try to pin it on me in a very twisted explanation.

“There’s a rule about not using another person’s ampoule. You can’t even use it if it’s someone from your bloodline. You used my ampoule,” Patrick explained,

“Is that why Lee was freaking out? Because I broke a rule? He said I travelled here illegally and I thought he meant something a lot worse,” I sighed, relieved.

“Lee had no right to get angry and especially make accusations against you and Patrick about long since handled matters.” Barney made it clear that Lee’s anger was already resolved or it was going to be very shortly. He clapped his hands together and continued, “Right then, onto a much lighter topic. Amy, usually with this ritual it takes a few days to get everything prepared and a full moon. Is you have been following the celestial calendar or have an interest in astronomy you would know that tonight is in fact a full moon. I can see no reason to not get it done here and now. Well here and tonight.”

Patrick looked just as shocked as me and I was right to assume that when Barney said, “It usually takes a few days to get this ritual ready” he meant that the rituals never happened within a couple of days of arrival.

“Besides,” Barney stood, walked to the front of his desk, and sat among the papers, books, and small marble bodice on his desk. “Most Welder children get their ampoules at age eight. Seven years is a bit too long don’t you think?”

“Absolutely,” I replied, awestruck.

Magic, the idea of it that I had so far, was complicated and difficult. There were rules like all things but these ones were different. You had to know how to use it and how to use it correctly. Kids get their ampoules at age eight and I was behind to say the least. I felt as thought I should be more prepared, ready and excited, I felt as though the small taste of magic that I had gotten from Daisy should have had my heart still pumping harshly and my breath stuck in my throat. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared about getting an ampoule only to have my magic measured and it be completely dark.Yet another life long gift, besides inability to trust and the wonderful ability to push people away, that my dad had left me with.