biscuitinferno

[biscuitinferno]

Late Night in Eulmore

Rating: M  (Just to be safe)

Summary: Not being able to sleep, the Warrior of Darkness takes a walk around Eulmore but runs into an Ascian.

Pairing: Emet-Selch x Warrior of Light/Reader

Word Count: 2641

Patch 5.0 Shadowbringers spoilers below cut. 

You turn over and heave a sigh, desperately trying to ignore the wild legs of the young elezen next to you. All of the Scions had been given quarters to sleep in that evening after Vauthry’s flight, but it ended up being only two rooms the people could spare. Which led to sharing beds. Which was not a problem-- or wouldn’t be a problem, if it wasn’t for the fact that Alisaie kicks in her sleep and Ryne talks in her sleep. How Y’shtola was sleeping through Ryne’s murmuring when right next to her was something of a mystery in itself. 

You scowl at another well placed kick and finally with a groan slip out of the bed. You are exhausted, but no matter how well your eyes stuck together, it was impossible to fully succumb to sleep with Alisaie's assault. You shuffle in the darkness, patting around until you find your boots and slipping them on before creeping out of the room. 

For some reason you find yourself wandering to the main square of Eulmore. At this time of night, most everyone is in bed. A few sleepy guards nod to you, the only stray citizens wandered from the night club. But other than that… empty. 

It still disorients you, how bright it could be even while nearing the middle of the night. You make your way over to a large balcony looking over the glassy sea. A slight breeze picks up and brings the scent of salt with it. It is not as refreshing as it was in La Noscea. Here it smelt stale, stagnant… A testament of the hundred years of the tide being hindered by the wall of light.

“Couldn’t sleep, hero?” Emet-Selch seems to materialize from thin air, stepping up to your side. 

You give a groan. “Surprise; it turns out Alisaie kicks in her sleep and Ryne talks. And with the days events…” You trail off, not wanting to think of the scene where Vauthry sprouted wings. “What about you? For your insatiable appetite for sleep, one would think that you would be at it by now. Don’t tell me you got kicked out of the room.”

He smirks and raises a glass of presumably wine to his lips. “That boy Alphinaud was kind to offer, but I doubt any of them would enjoy having to share a bed with me. Least of all Thancred.”

The thought of the face Thancred would make having to sleep next to the Ascian makes you chuckle a little. “Indeed he would not. But you can’t blame the man,” You refocus on the glass he swirls in his hand. "Where did you get that?"

"Hmm? Oh, the wine? Found it stashed away and out of sight. Figured no one would really miss it in all of this commotion," he smiles. "What? Do you care for a glass too?"

You roll your eyes but hold out your hand. He stares at it for but a moment before he understands. He hands it over and watches closely when you take a sip.

You hum and take another sip, longer than the last. "That's not bad," you report and hand him the glass back. "What was the vintage?"

With a flick of the wrist, the bottle appears into his free hand. "From before the flood," he murmurs after scanning the label. 

"Ah," you reply and lean against the railing. He makes a quiet snap and out of the corner of your eye you see him hold out a spare goblet. You raise a brow at him and watch it warily. 

He gives an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes. “Come now hero, I believe we are far past the point of thinking that I would try to outs you by means of poison. It is the same thing as what I have. Must I give you the glass that I have partook from to ease your apprehension?”

Your mask falls and you laugh genuinely for him, taking the glass he offered. “Nay, I only was trying to get a rise from you and have succeeded.”

“Hmph,” Emet-Selch twists his lips into a pout. “I will have to return the favor in due time.” 

You give him another smile where he responds with his own. The silence that follows is comfortable, both of you indulging in the fine drink and cool air. More comfortable than you would ever have expected to have while in his presence. How far you both had come. You could recall when he had first introduced himself, you had to restrain yourself from closing the gap and tearing him to shreds. But now, after quite some time together sharing adventurers and knowledge, you had come to consider him a… 

Friend didn't seem right. Neither did companion. So what could he be considered as? He was an Ascian, so the first thought would be: enemy. But that didn't quite fit either at the moment. This was quite confusing. A small part of you wanted him to be similar to Lahabrea, who was easy to hate. But Emet-Selch made it quite hard. Scathing sarcasm and bitterness that was actually really charming, exasperation with every breath, but fascinating stories at every turn. You could listen to him speak of history for hours on end. You honestly didn't want him to be your enemy, though you had a sinking suspicion that this would all end with him being it.

“I never really expe--” 

“Hush,” he cuts you off and goes on the alert, eyes and ear scanning the area. You seeing his wariness go on guard too. Could it be sin eaters? You scan the horizon, looking for anything moving in the blinding light. You had neglected to bring any of your weapons or armor, for you only intended to take a short walk.

He plucks the wine out of your hand and both glasses disappear with a snap. With no other warning he grabs you by the arm and pulls you into the shroud of a large heavy drape, crowding you against the wall. 

“What the hells are you doing--”

“Shhh,” he bids again, pressing a silk covered finger to your lips. You still your attempts of escape and listen closely, finally hearing voices approaching. They are loud and lively, most likely citizens fresh from the bar. 

“Emet-Selch,” you warn him with a hushed tone. "They are just citizens."

“Citizens who stare and point at me all while whispering to themselves. I do not like to be gawked at,” he breathes in return. “Especially not by drunkards.”

You give him a dirty look, but he is intently watching the sliver of light between the wall and drapes, waiting for the people to pass. The come close at last, laughing and giggling about some matter or another. A guard joins them shortly, scolding them for being out so late and that they should retire for the night. They voice their complaints, but wander off grousing the whole way.

When they finally get out of ear shot, you had thought Emet-Selch would push away but instead he lingers. You fingers absently curl around the fur of his coat, which had been placed there to steady yourself when he had grabbed you. With his proximity, you become acutely aware of everything about him. His slow breathing, the heat of his body, the weight of his bulk as he practically pressed you against the wall, the scent of his cologne starting to surround you… the faint sound of a heartbeat not your own.    

All things you had noticed before to a small degree, but not so vividly. You had never been this close to his person before, instead keeping a polite distance during your conversations. 

Your nose is practically buried in the fur of his coat causing each breath you take to be completely full of his fragrance; dark, rich, spicy, simply-- intoxicating. Twelve have mercy on you, this was a man who knew how to wear cologne. 

It was tasteful too, just enough so at a distance you may chance to get a whiff of it, but would have to be close to get the full experience. You longed to lean in further and take a sample directly from the source-- his neck is where you assumed he had dabbed it. Hells take him for smelling so pleasant. 

He shifts, pushing closer-- dropping his head. "I can hear your pulse race, hero," he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Does my closeness set you on edge? Do you despise me? Do you want to tear me apart with your bare hands?"

Your breath catches and even though you try, no response comes.

"Or could it actually be that you are... enjoying this?" He asks after your silence. Your eyes widen and your fingers dig harder into his coat. You try to lie to yourself, saying it's only the pleasant perfume…  

He catches your chin with silk clad fingers, tilting your burning face up. The light is dim, only one beam lighting the space, but it is enough to see his features, draped in shadows as they were. He was smirking again. Always smirking.

“What would your Scion friends say if they saw us like this?” he wonders aloud, his tone making it clear he is pleased with himself for catching the Warrior of Darkness so off guard. “Do they know you secretly pine for your own enemy?”

You attempt to shove him away, but it does little to move him. “Get off Emet-Selch,” you grind your teeth and push harder, tapping into that unrelenting strength. And yet he does not budge. It startles you how he can withstand your power and made you wonder just what kind of incredible strength this Ascian holds to resist your efforts.

He chuckles and presses even closer, wedging a knee between your legs and effectively pinning you against the wall. “I think not,” he leans his face close to yours and you realize just what he intends. You freeze. You could turn away, or you could…

He pauses there a breath away. “You have such a beautiful soul, hero,” he murmurs, lips threatening to graze your own. You shiver when he rests a hand on your waist, squeezing gently. “It is such a pity it was torn asunder. So broken, so… incomplete.”

Emet-Selch closes the slight gap to just barely brush his lips against yours. Electricity zaps straight through you, heat bubbling up immediately. He pulls away to observe your very bright face. 

"Oh hero," a dark smile twists his lips.

As quickly as it had began, it ends. Emet-Selch pushes off of you, leaving you quite flustered. It was unfair of him to tease you so and it made you want to smack the smirk right off his face. "Now. Off to bed, hero. You have an early start in the morning, don't you?" He taps the end of your nose playful.

You catch him when he turns to leave the shroud of the curtain, jerking him back by his fur collar. "You don't get off that easily, Ascian," you pull him closer, feeling emboldened by his forwardness.

He chuckles. "What? Craving more? I was only trying to get a rise out of you, and I succeeded." 

Him throwing your own words back at you has you faltering and blushing wildly. "You--"

"Incapable of taking a little teasing, are we?"

You scowl and jerk his collar to pull his face down to yours. Your lips crash together, yours moving across his in an attempt to coax him into response. He stiffens above you before you can feel him relax, his mouth curling into a smile against yours. He begins to return the kiss with equal fervor, re-wedging his knee between you legs and pulling you flush with an arm around your waist. He easily dominates the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip to make you gasp. He takes advantage and dives right in, making your squirm in his arms.

He breaks away-- his forehead resting against yours, his third eye pressing into your skin. He steals gentle kisses here and there, waiting for your breath to return. Your fingers curl, one hand threaded through the fur of his collar and the other lost in the silk of his hair. You find yourself licking your lips while collecting your thoughts, savoring the taste you had gotten.

Your eyes open and they are met with gleaming golden pools. Looking into them you find something achingly familiar, yet it was impossible to understand what it truly was. A half finished thought that would never be completed. It slips from your mind quickly, as if the concept never existed.

“Well now,” he clears his throat, his voice a touch hoarse. “This is most unexpected. Care to move this somewhere more private?”

You regain your senses and push him off. This time you are able to, and you know it is only because he allows it. He chuckles lightly. "Relax, hero. It truly is far past your bedtime and you have much to do tomorrow; talking to citizens, restructuring city ordinances, gaining loyalties. Run along now and let yourself slip off into sweet slumber," he sighs blissfully, practically sings the end to you.

He draws back the curtain, giving you a clear exit, but you catch yourself hesitating. He notices too. "Unless… you are reconsidering my offer?"

You scrunch your face up to hide your flush and stalk past him into the blinding light. You pause to regain your bearings and turn when he emerges from the drapes, a smug smirk etched in his lips. 

"Goodnight, Emet-Selch," you say politely, giving an equally polite nod and turning back toward the residency section of the city.

"Goodnight, my dear," he calls after you. You stumble and whip your head around, cheeks heating up again. That smirk has only seemed to grow. He has his wine glass again and raises it your direction before taking a sip.

You flee quickly, returning to your quarters in all haste. Once in the dark room again, you kick your boots off and flop back into your shared bed with Alisaie. Thankfully, her legs have stopped kicking for now. You heave a sigh and grumble quietly to yourself. 

"Is something amiss?" Y'shtola calls softly. You can just see her head poking over Ryne's sleeping form.

"Ascians," you grumble back. 

"Ah," you can almost hear the hesitation in her voice. "Do try to not let their words affect you over much."

It's his actions that are more concerning, you tell yourself silently. He claimed only to speak the truth. Does that also reflect to those things that are not words? Your cheeks warm, remembering how he spoke of your soul. He truly must think so then, right? "Goodnight, Y'shtola," you end the topic there.

Another pause, and then a soft sigh. You can hear her settle back into the bed. "Sleep well."

You settle into your own, letting yourself get comfortable. Your mind wanders, it inevitably going to Emet-Selch. His eyes, his voice, his smirk, his scent, his… kisses.

You groan and force your mind to stop conjuring images of what it would have been like if you had accepted his offer. With his age, and the multitude of empires he has personally cultivated, it is guaranteed he would be an expert lover with a full arsenal of tactics to make one writhe. You cover your head with the blankets and start to go over the list of things tomorrow would bring, if only as a distraction from the small ache forming inside you. It works slowly, the boring ideas for tomorrow making you feel drowsy. You sigh and get comfortable, finally slipping off into sleep.

But in your dreams, Emet-Selch is the only thing on your mind.

[biscuitinferno]

Forget Me Not

Summary: Emet-Selch reflects upon a patch of flowers and the memories associated with them.

Pairing: Emet-Selch/Reader (Unnamed Amaurotian)

Warnings: none, unless you hate the slightest bit of affection

Word Count: 1733

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A few Shadowbringers MSQ spoilers ahead! I suggest finishing the main quest line of 5.0 if you don’t want to spoil anything. 

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Emet-Selch scowled at the patch of flowers at his feet. The small blue flowers seemed to taunt him. The very sight a torture to behold. He knew exactly who had created these flowers before the great sundering. 

You. 

You had created them. Emet-Selch had always been first to witness the birth of your creations, no matter what they ended up being. He closes his eyes, looking back to that time so long ago when he had first witnessed this creation. 

You had bade him join you in one of the many parks Amaurot had, a sweet smile lighting up your features on the walk there. It was infectious, your smile, and however he tried to keep his face neutral there was no stopping the gentle smile that spread across his lips. You were excited, he could tell though you did not voice it. For you stayed quiet in the hope to keeping your surprise alive. Upon entering the park you bid him close his eyes in a voice with barely contained excitement. Emet-Selch obeyed without a thought. There was no reason not to, for he trusted you completely. And if for the off chance that this was a ruse to get him to step into one of your clever tricks you loved to play with him, he would go along with it. For he enjoyed those troublesome creations as well.

You led him through the park, a warm hand slipping into his to help guide him the way. You hand had been so… perfect to hold. So right. It filled his entire soul with a tingle of warmth. When you stopped him at a particular point, your hand left his. The absence made him desperately crave to have it returned. Your hands on his shoulders turned him around and your voice was in his ear. “Open your eyes.”

Emet-Selch did as he was told, eyes opening to a patch of small blue flowers blanketing the ground in the shade of a large tree. So delicate, they were. So you.

“You made these?” Emet-Selch asked full of wonder. He knelt to get a closer look, fingers trailing over the soft petals. Upon his closer look he found not only blue blossoms, but both pink and white ones speckled throughout.

You clasped your hands together and nodded. “Yes, I was looking over similar creations and was inspired.”

“They are beautiful,” he murmurs, standing again. You are beautiful, he had continued in his mind, his gaze seeming to get stuck on you. “Have you named them yet?” 

You paused and thought for a moment. “Forget Me Nots,” you told him quietly. “Is it weird? I thought of Myosotis too because the petals look like little mouse ears...”

“No, not at all. I am just curious of your reasoning on the name,” Emet-Selch reassured you quickly. 

You look away from him. “I,” you began, suddenly shy. “I was thinking of you, Hades. Of me. For my desire for neither of us to forget about each other. You are Emet-Selch now, a leader of our people. You have so many things that you could be doing, but still you make time to spend with me. For that, I am eternally grateful.” 

“It will not be long until you join me there,” he assures you. “I have witnessed many of your creations first hand and can testify to the strength and control you have. Your trials will prove you little trouble.”

“Even so,” you bite your lip, uncertainty still holding fast. “No matter what happens, my hope was that if we have less time to spend together in the future, that we can look down at these flowers and remember while apart.”

Emet-Selch felt his whole body alight with delight. If it weren’t for the mask he wore, he was sure that you would be able to see the bright glow on his cheeks. For him. These flowers. He finds himself smiling. He stepped up to your side and gently placed a hand on your cheek. You returned the gesture, both basking in the comfort of each other's souls.  

Footsteps approach him and Emet-Selch tears his eyes away from the planter and the far away memory. You-- no. The mortal husk of the warrior of light harboring your half complete soul, approaches him. There was a scowl set on the warrior's lips, their eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

It was truly unsettling to Emet-Selch just how much this incarnation that bore the shards of your soul resembled you. He had made a habit of finding each piece of your soul throughout the years just to see what appearance you had taken on, and this one by far resembled you the closest. There of course had been little things that had matched your appearance in your other vessels; same eye color, or the same shape of the lips, or the same tilt of your head when you would look at something. But never had they come together in such a way before. Emet-Selch wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Perhaps it was just another thing to mock him. Another reminder. Another stab into his chest. 

"Must you wait outside my apartment too?" The warrior crosses their arms, shifting their weight onto one foot, a motion you had employed whenever you were mildly annoyed at something. "Some might call you a stalker."

Emet-Selch snorts loudly, rolling his eyes. "My dear hero, as far as I am aware it is not a crime to take a walk. Stopping to observe the scenery outside your residence was merely a happy coincidence," he slips into the easy charm he had cultivated with this persona. The warrior frowns even more, opening their mouth to say something but Emet-Selch stops them. 

"Tell me, hero," he begins, turning his gaze back to the flowers. A strange sense of curiosity had filled him and Emet-Selch needed an answer. "Do you know what kind of flowers these are?"

The warrior of light seems visibly put off guard, their face twisting up in confusion. But they take a look down at the planter regardless. "Forget Me Nots?" They answer after a few moments.

“So you do. Wonderful,” Emet-Selch smiles. “Now answer me this: how do you feel when you look at these flowers?”

The warrior scrutinizes Emet-Selch, more confusion flashing through their eyes. More suspicion. “Is this a joke?”

“Far from it, hero. It is a simple question that I had hoped you would deign to answer. If I so readily indulge with your ceaseless inquiries then it is only fair you return the favor.”

This made the warrior pause. They are thinking, eyes darting between the flower planter and Emet-Selch. “I’m not sure…” they finally say after an extended look at the flowers. “Honestly, these flowers, I have always been drawn to them. I guess they have always been a favorite of mine. I am unsure what the reasoning is but when I look at them I feel… surprisingly... wistful? I don't know."

Emet-Selch closes his eyes and hums. The irony of the situation was not lost on the Ascian. To have your soul right here in front of him, to be looking at these flowers, and to not remember anything... It makes him want to roll his eyes. Forget Me Nots. What was the point of making them if you would one day forget everything? But to be fair, Emet-Selch was hard pressed to believe that you had known any of this would happen, especially when the initial creation of the plant was long before the first calamity.

There is a quiet moment between the two of them. Emet-Selch reflecting and the warrior being even more confused at how this conversation was playing out. “Have I answered your question sufficiently?” The warrior asks. 

“Oh, yes hero. You have given an adequate answer,” Emet-Selch retrains his golden eyes to the flowers. He can’t help the soft smile that tugs at the corner of his lips or the softening of his eyes. "Long before the sundering, I knew the soul who created these flowers. I had been curious to know your thoughts on them since you share a surprising amount of similarities to them," he explains seeing the warriors troubled look. He bends down and plucks a small cluster off the plant. His thumb brushes against the petals and wishing it was your hand he held instead. A mischievous thought darts through his mind and he can’t help but heed its call. 

Emet-Selch steps up close to the warrior, his eyes never leaving theirs. They stiffen but stay rooted to the ground all the same. Without another thought he tucks the blossom into their hair just behind their ear. He admires it there for a moment, recalling how you had done this to him in the park that day you first created them. “There,” he repeats the words that you had said to him as well. “It suits you."

The warrior was dumbstruck for about five moments before their wits returned and they stumbled away, knocking the Ascian's hand off their cheek. A mix of horror and disbelief crossed their face along with a bright flush of their skin. "What are you-- I-- you--"

The lack of words that the warrior has makes Emet-Selch smile. What an interesting reaction, he muses to himself. Still sputtering, the bright faced warrior turns and dashes off in the direction of the Crystal Tower, not bothering to pull the flowers out of their hair. Would they remember before they came before the Exarch to pull it out? Or would they forget and have to face inquiries as to why it was there? Either scenario made the smile on the Ascian's lips widen.

It sparks a bit of hope within him. If the warrior can feel the calls of your soul, whether they realize it or not, then there must be a way to reawaken you. You must be in there somewhere, watching and waiting for the opportunity to emerge. Emet-Selch only needed a few more pieces of your soul to be rejoined, or a strong enough image-- something that would catch your attention and unlock those deep buried memories. And when they did come flooding back, you would return to him. You would be in his arms once again.

Like it was always meant to be.

For he has never forgotten about you.

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Forget Me Nots; Myosotis. 

Meanings--- 

True love, eternal love, fidelity, honesty, long-lasting connection, remembrance

Color Meanings ---

White: Purity, innocence

Blue: Trust, respect

Pink: Romance, love, gentleness 

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