#all shadowbringers scenery so far has been making me stop and look around

[kirriu]

look at my bunny

[autumnslance]

This is @onyrica‘s fault, as there was discussion of Emet-Selch in her Discord the other day and this old idea I’ve had kicking around got sparked awake. Takes place sometime during Shadowbringers 5.0, a little moody Emet-Selch for you all. Under the cut for those who prefer Tumblr.

The Scions were off on more of their foolish adventures in a land still smothered by Light, and so Emet-Selch meandered around the Crystarium, bored. He had already quit the Ocular on an appropriately dramatic note, though in retrospect should have perhaps drawn out the conversation longer if this was to be the result.

He would learn the Crystal Exarch’s secrets yet; he needed but a little more time to unwind the wards the stripling wizard had placed upon himself and the Tower.

It was his Tower, the same one Emet-Selch had centuries ago overseen the construction of in the Source, though how and why it and its keeper were here on the First now…

“Back foul beast!” A reedy voice caught Emet-Selch’s attention, alongside the claps and cheers of a small crowd. He paused his ambling to glance idly toward the sounds.

Lost in thought, he had wandered near the schoolyard. It was currently set up with rows of benches and chairs in a wide half circle before a low temporary stage. Several of the smaller children gamboled upon it, their classmates and teachers fluttering behind flimsy sheet backdrops to the sides and rear.

The adults had sewn and braided cloth and soft leather into simple costumes, built padded weapons and other props and set pieces with wood, bone, stone, and metal, perhaps a little plaster here and there; scraps insufficient for use by the artisans of the Crystalline Mean, saved from going to waste in this manner. The backdrop had the lines of scenery sewn in, but like the props and other lightweight stage furnishings, the young actors had obviously painted it themselves. The results were sloppy, eye-searing combinations of bright hues that nevertheless lent further charm to the stilted, clumsy production on exhibition.

Ah yes; it was a popular fairy tale rendition of an earlier Minfilia’s tale, depicted by students for the patient amusement of their parents. He wanted to sigh and laugh at the ironic frustration of how the story was stripped of the actual woman’s desperate actions to preserve a fragment of this world, making it possible for his own plans to complete its Rejoining to the Source, furthering the goals of himself and his brothers.

And yet…

“Hades, come see what Hythlodaeus has made for our play!”

“Did you create this concept yourself?”

“I did! It’s still a little rough, though. I was hoping you would have an idea on how to improve it.”

“Hmm. I just might, although…”

“Will it get us in trouble with the Matron?”

“Possibly; not that that’s ever stopped you, my friend. Nor Hythlodaeus from encouraging you.”

“Haha, no need to tease! You’re as eager as we are, besides. Come, let’s hear your idea for my concept, and put on a play our elders shall remember years from now.”

Emet-Selch caught himself smiling as the small child playing Minfilia expressed glee at “defeating” a slightly bigger classmate in the role of a sin eater. The little thing was so excited and overwhelmed by the cheers of the audience that a teacher had to prompt the next lines. He clapped along as yet another child playing the former Eulmoran General came to take Minfilia onto destiny—and death, but nevermind that; the schoolyard play ended on a cheerful note, the class lining up unevenly to take their shy, awkward bows as their friends and families cheered.

“Bravo,” Emet-Selch called as well, noticed by only a few of the participants, just another adult in the crowd.

It was a ridiculous, crude little affair. Nothing like his hazy piecemeal memories of his own long ago youth, let alone the demonstrations of Amaurot’s students in later years when he served on the Convocation, their nascent concepts hints of their later talents, nurtured by the elders who guided their course.

Yet a small part of him found something charming in the clumsy little production, the attempt at bringing to life a story with script and props and the energy of children.

A paltry display, a larger part of him hissed. Nothing like what they could, should be capable of if they were whole.

Still; he was ever interested in the mortal need to create, to strive for more than their clumsy hands and stunted imaginations could conjure. That they sought to reach the heights of their forgotten ancestors, yearning to bring to existence that which they only saw within their minds’ eyes.

It was all the proof he needed that he held to the correct course. That they wanted to be Rejoined, wanted to create instantly with a simple thought that which took their crude methods time to draw in only rough approximations.

“I have been looking forward to this showing for moons, Hythlodeaus. Your pestering about the Convocation’s latest decisions shall not distract me.”

“I wanted a bit of gossip, not the politics, though I suppose they could be one and the same—don’t frown at me like that.”

“I shall frown all I wish, though you should hope the play changes my mood.”

“Hehe; we both know it shall, you have ever been a fan of such stories. Or is it the flair of how the stories are told?”

“Perhaps a bit of both. There’s a magic to theater that is wholly different from mine own.”

“Tis a shame our friend has left again, and shan’t return for quite some time, rather than accompanying us.”

“Yes, but we all have our roles to fill.”

“Didja like our play, mister?” One of the little urchins was at his feet, looking up at Emet-Selch with a gap-toothed grin, still in slapdash costume.

He stared down for a long moment, then allowed a small smile, playing the part of indulgent grandfatherly figure. “I have ever been a fan of the theater,” he told the child. “A finer production I’ve not seen in this world.”

Not even a lie; he had not yet had the chance even while in Eulmore.

The child squealed in delight, spitting out a quick “Thank you!” before responding to a parent’s call.

Emet-Selch watched the child dash off, trying to ignore the old, hollow ache in his chest and the brief spark of warmth the interaction nearly kindled within it.

The child was inconsequential; he could have snuffed out the tiny half-life with a snap of his fingers and it would not matter a whit to the universe—in truth it would even be far kinder than the inevitable destruction of Rejoining.

But perhaps the children would put on another of their clumsy little plays before that happened. Another small proof of man’s eternal striving to reach for the heights they once knew when whole, and would know again once he had his way.

“I swear, with your penchant for theatrics, you should have become a playwright, or an actor, Emet-Selch.”

“I may someday, dear Azem, when your own antics force me into retirement for my sanity’s sake. Now please, aid me in resolving this matter lest Loghrif truly does murder me at our next meeting...”

The echo of his old friend’s laugh rang in his ears, annoyingly tinged in the current reincarnation’s voice, as he ambled away from the schoolyard.

He found himself pausing to look back at the bright little stage and realized he was still smiling.

Emet-Selch shook his head. A momentary lapse; how annoying.

The stage was set, his script was written; the actors had but to find their marks, their actions against the Lightwardens unwittingly hurtling them ever closer to the final curtain call.

Then they would understand, and would remember the dazzling spectacle, the possibility of true creation.

In the meantime, these too brief, imperfect reminders would have to do, as he had told himself countless times before in his centuries among these fragmented worlds.

[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

------------

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

------------

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.

-------------------------------

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 

--------------------------------

[sphinxsmuses-archived]

ooc: Wrote another FF14 drabble... >_>

(This one involves my new verse for Orabella as a Final Fantasy 14 OC. It also contains minor spoilers for Shadowbringers so beware.)

This was a major research project. Orabella was hoping to impress the scholars at the Crystarium and decided the only way to do so was traveling, alone, across the world. Others warned her about the dangers. The Sin Eaters and the Light that plagued the land could harm her. But she was quite determined and would be taking a path that Sin Eaters had yet to be seen for reasons unknown.

She held her book close as she found herself in beautiful fields of flowers. This area was new to her though she felt like she read about it in her many books. However the book she was thinking of was a fairy tale. Her gray eyes glanced up at the large crystal like castle that loomed in the distance, colorful butterfly like wings attached to it. She started jotting down notes about it and the scenery around her when something flew past her face, making her jump.

Then another thing flew by. And another. “My, what a cute creature.” something chimed and she felt her hood being tugged by something. “Look at all her books! Do you think she's a story teller?” There was a sudden dizzying light and sparkles that surrounded the elf and suddenly in front of her face were three fairies. She gasped and clung to her book tighter. Fairies! Real fairies! She couldn't have been dreaming. “Won't you play with us? Come play!” they cried out.

This worried Orabella. Fairies were known for their mischief nature and pulling pranks. She started flipping through her book and started chanting. “Ones who drift carelessly in the sky. I speak to thee. Come be my wings!” The fairies gasped as her book shined and three small blue birds popped out. She hoped it would distract them so she could run but it only drew more fairies towards her. “Magic! This one knows magic!” “She can bring birds from nowhere! We must show her to the King!” “Yes, yes, the King!”

There was a shine of light again and suddenly Orabella was transported into what appeared to be a castle. “Wha-Where did you take me!?!” she squeaked when she heard a melodic voice ring out. “What have you brought me? Another intruder in need of punishing?” A large fairy, much much larger than the others, appeared before her wearing an elegant dress and carrying a large staff.

“No, this one we like! She summoned birds from nowhere! She knows magic!” the fairies chimed in, “She also has many books! So many books to read us!” “Ooh~” the large fairy cooed and leaned in close to Orabella. “And she is quite adorable too! I shall keep her then. And you can read me all your books and show me your magic!” Orabella took a step back. “Wha-No! Wait!”

But the sound of a door closing met her ears and again there was a sparkle around her. No matter where she went, there was no escape. So, she settled in, and discovered it wasn't all that bad. The fairies were nice to her, loved hearing her ramble about magic and her books. And so she lived until suddenly...Titania stopped showing up to her nightly bed time stories. The castle had a bit of a different look as well. “The King is at last at rest! Long live the new King!” the fairies cheered as they flew around her and around the castle.

This new King had found her standing in the main hall quite confused. “Ooh, you poor child. Likely a victim of the last mad King aren't you? Don't worry, you are free now. My dear sapling would likely be fierce with anger if I didn't let you go.” they spoke, placing a reassuring hand on Orabella's shoulder. As she tried to process her new found freedom, she gazed over at the saddened faces of the fairies. “Perhaps...I can stay awhile longer. In my own hut maybe. Outside the castle.” she said and the fairies cheered with joy.

After gathering her things, she found a place, a cute hut set among the fields of flowers she first came upon arriving in the area. All the buildings seemed abandoned and she assumed no one else was likely around. After all no one else appeared to be there when she first arrived. That was until she came across a rather large building with grand stained glass windows. Curious, she decided to take a peek, her research journal in her arms as she decided as long as she was to stay with the fairies, she might as well continue her research.

She immediately dropped said journal upon seeing another elf standing there, staring at her curiously. The silver haired elf scrambled to grab it while gawking at the tall man before her. “Are thou alright?” he asked as she hid partially behind her book. “Who-Who are you? What are you doing here? Did the fairies tak-take you too?” she asked in a stammer, face glowing red.

He shook his head. “Thou are mistaken. I have become partners with them you could say. After helping free their King alongside my companions, they are fine with my being here.” he replied. She kept staring. What was with his words? The way he spoke almost made him sound like he had an accent and it only made the summoner more flustered. “I-I see. Wait, so you beat the last fairy King? That explains why I was freed.” She took a moment to glance over at his map of the stars and gasped softly at it.

“Did you...make this?” Now that she thought about it, when she left the sky seemed...normal. Bright but not as blinding as before. Like a normal sky. “Did you bring back the night here?” He walked over and stood near her. “Aye. But it isn't night for thy whole world just yet. There are still many foes to take care of.”

Glancing around the house, she realized it appeared to be a large study. Scrolls scattered the table. Maps and other charts lined the walls. Books were piled in shelves. A strange globe like object sat on the table. “Are you a researcher as well?” she asked, turning back to the man. He nodded. “Of sorts. Ever since being brought here, I have strove to learn everything I can about thy world.” He spoke like there were more than one world, and some of his charts suggested it as well.

Orabella found herself completely fascinated by this and took a seat at a nearby chair, her book and hands on her lap. “Please, tell me more.” “If thou wishes. I shall make some tea. Then we can exchange stories.” She sat quietly for a moment as he left then her mind started swimming. What was she doing? Sitting here at a stranger's house, a man's house, one who talks like he's from another world. She had yet to tell him her name nor had he told her his own. She just became so enthralled in his research, it distracted her from everything else.

So when he came back, she squeaked and immediately hid behind her book, causing him to raise a brow. “I ask thee again, is something wrong? Do I frighten thee?” She blushed sheepishly and shook her head. “No, no, I'm sorry. It's just...until now, I've been trapped in the fairy castle. And before then I never thought fairies existed, let alone other worlds.” Urianger sipped his tea quietly before speaking again. “I understand. The fairies have caused trouble for others such as thyself. As for other worlds, I can assist thee in learning more about them.”

And with a nod, he started explaining everything he had found out. Hours passed and yet he was fine with her company. They drank tea, discussed their research, then eventually the summoner realized she still had yet to tell him her name. “I'm so sorry for taking your time when you don't even know me. I-I'm Orabella. It's nice to meet you...?” she trailed off. “You may call me Urianger. And thy company didn't bother me at all. I have taken all you shared to heart and will use it alongside my own knowledge of this world.” he replied with a small nod.

Slowly she stood up. “I-I'm glad. Perhaps I can visit again? But I really should go. I don't live far though. I decided to stay and do my research here while spending time with the fairies.” she said as she headed towards the door. He followed if only to hold it open for her. “It would be my pleasure. Come back anytime Lady Orabella.” As she left and the door closed behind her, immediately the first three fairies she met flew to her side. “Ooh, what was that about story teller? A boy? How fun!” one giggled. “Do you like him? You must after all that time spent with him!” another snickered.

Her cheeks burned red and she hid behind her journal. “I-I don't know. He's just another researcher like me. But-But maybe I'll talk to him again tomorrow.” The fairies burst into giggles. “Yeah, talk then smooch. Smooch! Smooch!” They went on like this all the way to Orabella's house where she wrote about her findings of the day, including the mysterious neighbor she now had.