[Again, guilt presses upon him like a boulder as Hythlodaeus presses that kiss to his head. Some part of him enjoys the affection, another part of him knows he shouldn't. With a simple nod as his solemn reply, he settles himself into bed. He plans not for sleep, and he doesn't think he could even if he wanted to, but he does close his eyes.
His thoughts are scattered and disjointed, and as he starts to focus on one, another takes its place. How long has it been since he could not settle his mind? Ordinarily he can rein it in, even when his emotions were on the fritz, and yet here and now he feels helpless to their tumultuous tumbling and disorderliness.
While he isn't asleep, he does feel as though he's drifting. As though he is not here, yet he clearly is, but it's the smell of the coffee that brings him back—and the sound of the foot steps. Gold peers out from his cracked eyelids as he watches Hythlodaeus approach. Beholding him again, looking at him truly differently than he had all these moons.
Really, everything about him truly spoke of Hythlodaeus. How he walked, how he talked, everything was exactly as he remembered—but of course that's the case, when he is a being constructed from memory. Just as the sundered Convocation members were pale imitations to the ones they had lost. Replications and copies, all flawed, none truly filling the hole their predecessors left behind.
And like them, this Hythlodaeus was no better. Yet, in actuality, he was better in some ways. After all, he was made purely from Hades' memory of Hythlodaeus, and well did he know Hythlodaeus. He'd argue almost better than Hythlodaeus himself, really. Yet, despite that, he lacked a soul. He was no better than Ifrita, than the Phoenix, than any other concept.
Aether woven into form, but lacking a soul, lacking a natural place in the world, a natural place in the grand cycle of life...
He sits up as Hythlodaeus gets closer, bringing a hand to his head as he holds it. For good reason, too, all of this has left him with a bit of a headache. Nothing the coffee couldn't help, he figures. And, when Hythlodaeus offers it, he will take it.]
...Thank you.
[Is that really all he has to say? Well, at the moment, yes. He needs his coffee before he can talk any further, or else he threatens to split his mind in two with how much worse this headache will become.]
no subject
His thoughts are scattered and disjointed, and as he starts to focus on one, another takes its place. How long has it been since he could not settle his mind? Ordinarily he can rein it in, even when his emotions were on the fritz, and yet here and now he feels helpless to their tumultuous tumbling and disorderliness.
While he isn't asleep, he does feel as though he's drifting. As though he is not here, yet he clearly is, but it's the smell of the coffee that brings him back—and the sound of the foot steps. Gold peers out from his cracked eyelids as he watches Hythlodaeus approach. Beholding him again, looking at him truly differently than he had all these moons.
Really, everything about him truly spoke of Hythlodaeus. How he walked, how he talked, everything was exactly as he remembered—but of course that's the case, when he is a being constructed from memory. Just as the sundered Convocation members were pale imitations to the ones they had lost. Replications and copies, all flawed, none truly filling the hole their predecessors left behind.
And like them, this Hythlodaeus was no better. Yet, in actuality, he was better in some ways. After all, he was made purely from Hades' memory of Hythlodaeus, and well did he know Hythlodaeus. He'd argue almost better than Hythlodaeus himself, really. Yet, despite that, he lacked a soul. He was no better than Ifrita, than the Phoenix, than any other concept.
Aether woven into form, but lacking a soul, lacking a natural place in the world, a natural place in the grand cycle of life...
He sits up as Hythlodaeus gets closer, bringing a hand to his head as he holds it. For good reason, too, all of this has left him with a bit of a headache. Nothing the coffee couldn't help, he figures. And, when Hythlodaeus offers it, he will take it.]
...Thank you.
[Is that really all he has to say? Well, at the moment, yes. He needs his coffee before he can talk any further, or else he threatens to split his mind in two with how much worse this headache will become.]