[Well, he cannot avoid it any longer, and he knows he shouldn't. Yet the red hot ire he feels about the whole thing has not lessened with sleep. Nor even speaking with Steven, not that he had thought it would, nor hoped.
Regardless, this must needs be settled, and while his heart is still heavy and tired from how his date with Dirk ended (not being the only thing that did that night), he presses on. Dressed in a house robe, he looks about how he feels, and does little to hide it as he approaches Hythlodaeus while he's in the garden, tending to his Cutiefly as per usual.
The image should stoke warm affection in his bosom.
It doesn't.]
What irony that we would again need to talk and find ourselves in this familiar scene.
[He doesn't let Hythlodaeus say anything before he adds sharply:]
[ Were he wired differently, it would be ice cold dread flushing through his mind and hands. His own irritation of being robbed the control does well in him. But then comes the fear in a less instinctual manner.]
[Well. Fuck. He takes a steadying breath as he looks at the bug in his hand. This was too big to give up so easily, without confirmation. Even if Hades’ demeanor could have been enough. He sets his eyes back down at the cutiefly in his hand as he speaks.]
Very well. It is hardly my place to ask such things in my twofold irrelevance.
[ Under different circumstances he would fight this, turn it around, distract— But as he reaches into his well, dropping his bucket into the depths, he draws up nothing. ]
... It is a pity you cannot dissipate me for the troubles I’ve caused you, unruly thing that I am.
[ He takes a deep breath. In, out. Facing his creator now, his master, he stands and prompts the cutiefly to go. He places a hand over his heart and bows slightly with far more respect or seriousness than he’s shown anyone at all in a long time. ]
[There's a twist in his chest, of anger and of pity. To see Hythlodaeus—no his likeness—in such a way. It's a disservice to his memory. A mockery of it, and yet he wants nothing more than for him to submit for what he's wrought. Wearing that face, and betraying him while doing it. Rekindling that fire that never burned out, playing with that longing he's had for eons, giving him hope that he once again was in the presence of his friend.
Of a love long lost to the cruelty of fate.
Yet, can he truly be mad that he wears Hythlodaeus' face when he's the one who gave him it? Can he really be mad when he gave him the mind that he now possesses? Can he truly blame a creation for following that which it was designed to do?
Well...he's not sure if he should be so full of ire, yet he is. He's not sure if he should continue to speak to him as if he's a person, when he isn't. He's not sure of a lot of things, all of this is new—a novelty if it weren't so horrible. All the same, the tightness in his chest does not lessen, and neither does the clench of his jaw as he coldly gazes at him in disappointment.]
Indeed it is.
[The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, a momentary stunned realization, before he folds his arms over his chest with a shake of his head.]
But I will not suffer your self-pity. Nor any more talk of that. [With a narrowing of his eyes, his voice becomes deeper and lower as he asks his single word question:] Why?
[ The word resounds within his mind. It is both expected and yet not. He had hoped, prayed, that he would never need to reckon with this. Even if he knew it was very possible on some level... He desperately wants to ask why he and Dirk parted ways, yet he can already picture it perfectly. After all, he knows Hades well. He dares not insult his judgment, even in the privacy of his mind.]
...Though I know that I am little more than cleverly woven aether, I began to war with myself. These thoughts in my mind and feelings in my breast...
I had intended to not interfere, least of all with the matters betwixt you and your— You and Dirk.
...Yet I began to ache so keenly and long for you in all of my moments. I found myself forgetting what I truly am around you, losing firm ground and clarity of thought.
[ It feels like someone has closed their hands around his heart as he looks up to meet his gaze.]
...Perhaps it is this setting, as well. Cloying in its strangeness, surreal in its very existence. I was not made to be here, so unsure and so full of half-cocked self-restraint.
[ In spite of himself, he feels his eyes begin to water. ]
[The explanation...does not give him what he wants. What he asked for. Well, it does in a sense, it explains why he's acted with such oddity, why he took it upon himself to engage with him that night that wrought this whole ordeal. Yet, he has not explained that which allowed such a mistake to be made in the first place.
He's about to reprimand him for dodging the true answer, why he lied to him in the first place. Why he pretended to be the real Hythlodaeus, not this half-mistake of a thing—but then he notices the unnatural shine to Hythlodaeus' eyes.
Oh how his heart aches at the sight. How his expression melts like butter in a pan, the hard edges giving way as his clear empathy paints his expression. Only for a moment, however, because his mind reminds his heart that this is not the man he looks like. The man whose likeness, mind, and memories are being used in every way they shouldn't be. His glower finds itself on his features once more, and his shoulders square defiantly as he finds his resolve once more.]
Why did you pretend to be Hythlodaeus from the first? Why did you deceive me—why would you allow me to indulge in a hope as painful as it is false? How much more cruelty did you plan to inflict upon me ere I'd be made aware of your fraudulent existence?
[He can feel his anger rising, and with it his pitch. He speaks quickly, almost squawking at the end of that, and even as he continues, it's hard to keep his voice steady.]
I understand you grew to forget your falsehood, blinded by feelings that are not yours, but I know you—or rather Hythlodaeus whom you are naught but a hollow mock of—so tell me: what was your motive in obfuscating the truth?
...Ah. Several reasons. Though some worth outlining less based on your criteria.
[ He blinks back his tears as his mouth sets into a rarely seen frown. ]
As your creation, I knew your heart and mind from the first and feared how you might succumb to despair without your tempering.
Additionally, without an understanding of the nature of our captivity, I feared some irreparable temporal catastrophe— this much I have laid to rest with my newer understanding.
And... I just... wanted to be the real Hythlodaeus for you, with all my heart.
[ He averts his gaze as his brow furrows and the tears begin to fall. ]
Even if the real Hythlodaeus would have navigated this much better and perhaps would have found it within himself to tell you that you had died.
Perhaps something that would make his anger feel more justified? Something that would truly demonize his creation in some way that this hurt could merely be fueled into more anger. Anything at all that could dry up this ocean of misery, yet he finds it only expanding. The more he sees him, hears him...the more difficult it all is.
The answers leave him feeling hollow and petty. Yet, he cannot shake feeling justified in his anger—what Hythlodaeus did was cruel. He lead him astray, and while he will fully admit to his part in the infidelity he committed, he certainly would not have been tempted if he had known.
And now what does that leave him with? A broken heart and a broken shade, as if he hadn't enough misery already. Though, he's certain things with Dirk are not final, that the man wanted to interact with him still at all, regardless of it being more work-oriented than not, was an in. Was a means to amend.
But this? Between him and Hythlodaeus—his mistaken creation that was an oversight due to his own longing and love? This simulacrum that could never be that which he replicates. Never fill the hole that he left. Even if his heart's sole desire is to be the man he was made after, he cannot.
It is simply...impossible. Or so Hades believes.]
...I trust you realize all of this has ended in failure, yes? You cannot be Hythlodaeus, only a replica of him. You could not hide my inevitable demise from me, for it was meant to be, and lastly—
[His jaw tightens, his arms having since unfolded, they hang at his sides with his hands balled into fists.]
—you have brought naught but despair, and my tempering or lack thereof has naught to do with it! You have acted beyond your bounds, dared trifle with that which a being such as you should never, and with it you have betrayed and wounded me.
So, what then, what do you plan to do? What was your contingency should I find out—because despite the fact you wished to keep this a secret, you certainly felt the need to tell others. To raise suspicion! I daresay, you might have succeeded at one thing had you kept that mouth of yours shut, but no! You could not even achieve that much!
What do I plan to do... I suppose that my plans were like me, the nature of my being, pulled in two opposing directions at once and accomplishing naught. I sabotaged my plan from the first. I have no remedy, and though I long to provide one, I fear it may only make it worse.
[ His voice breaks and his fists ball. ]
For all the misery I have caused you, I shall trouble you no longer. How embarrassing for a Creation to be worse than useless. How insulting to your memory of Hythlodaues. I shall gather my things.
I am not commanding you to leave, nor implying such. Thus far your decisions have ended in nothing good, so why would this one prove any different? Are you to run from responsibility? Cower away from my wrath at your careless actions?
[His hands release from the balled up fists they were, one raising to comb back his hair as it runs through it, his expression pulling tight with a scowl.]
I have lost Hythlodaeus once. Should I really suffer losing him again..? Even if you are not—cannot be him. Your likeness... I am your recreator, and you my creation. It would be irresponsible of me to cast you out, and so I will not.
[ He pauses and looks down at Hades, his mind brining in impotent frustration. To fight the restlessness warring with Hades’ commands, he kneels. He hates this. This indignity. This shame. He can feel it carving into his memories, marring his mind further.]
[He grasps The fabric at his knees and hangs his head, offering himself just the slightest bit of privacy with which to shed his tears.]
[He realizes too late that he’s allowed himself to... to panic? Something akin to it. His thoughts are jumbled and disorganized, his emotions beginning to close to him as he discards his own permissions.]
[He’s barely aware that he hasn’t even verbally replied to his maker as his thoughts spin.]
[How unexpected. Cruelly he chalks it up to an imperfection in Hythlodaeus' replication, than aught that he could have ever caused in Hythlodaeus himself. As if the thought would serve as the balm his aching heart needs, but it does nothing.
Nothing at all as he stares down at the man kneeling before him. The shade, the copy, the mimic of his dear friend. Of his love.
Yet, despite his stubbornness, he is not as cruel as he might try to be, and his already wounded heart yearns to reach out, to comfort...anything to assuage the pain he knows he's feeling. He can feel. Just as it were with that phoenix, as it slammed into the walls of the bureau, again and again in its panic. In it's pain.
Destroying itself over and over again, only to hopelessly revitalize so it could do it all again. And while beautiful, breathtakingly so, it did not wear Hythlodaeus as its form.
He knows not what he's doing as he lowers himself, his arms encircling him as his own head rests against the top of Hythlodaeus'. He's still angry, still hurt, but what can he do? Would Hythlodaeus condemn him for this weakness? Would he find fault in him for seeking comfort and kindness in this sorry shade he made of him?
Part of him tells him he wouldn't, that he would understand. That he would not forsake him and wish him to continue this path of solitude and isolation he has followed for so very long...
Yet the guilt. It's there. Ever is it. Pressing hard on his heart, and harder yet through his thoughts. Which is why within a few moments, he aims to stand once more, to retract his hold. His mind, his heart is a tempest of emotions and thoughts that he has little hope of sorting, nor understanding in the moment.
How can he when he is so struck with his own mourning?]
[ He jumps slightly at Hades’ touch, clearly not expecting it in the least. But as he feels Hades’ touch, his head upon his own, his hands react and seemingly move on their own, trapping Hades there. He buries his face into Hades’ torso as his shoulders shake, months of conflict and anguish not properly dislodging. After all, he wasn’t Hythlodaeus. What right did he have to the man’s feelings? ]
[ What right did he have to Hades either— ]
[ A small part of him remembers that Hades offered to take responsibility. Another reminds him that he should be comforting Hades. He can’t stand this. He grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, pushing the feelings down.]
[Down.]
[down.]
[He lets out one more shuddering breath, feeling both entirely unrelieved and entirely sick of the turmoil. He releases Hades, pulling back and standing up. He wipes the tear trails from his cheeks, forcing a smile.]
[Being trapped there for Hythlodaeus' crying is entirely what he should have foreseen, and truly he did. Yet he still feels his body go rigid as those arms grab him, hold onto him, then he feels the shake of him as he weeps. His mouth goes dry, his throat feels as though something is lodged within it, and his heart quivers painfully.
Breath hitched in his throat, eyes burning from the sting of tears welling within them, and like his chest, his jaw aches from the tightness of how it clenches. Silently do his tears slick his cheeks, yet with each that falls, he feels no better. It changes nothing.
It does not bring Hythlodaeus back.
It does not make this man any more Hythlodaeus than he was moments ago.
It does not resolve the anguish in his heart that has been renewed.
It does not save him from this despair, and maybe nothing truly will.
As Hythlodaeus regains his resolve, he's far from regaining his own. Which is why when the other man stands, wiping away his own tears, Hades turns his head away from him, his mouth pulled into a tight grieving frown as he hopes his hair will be enough to hide his silent weeping.
But he asked him a question, didn't he? Swallowing thickly—a feeling akin to forcing a lead ball through a passage far too small—he regains his voice, or what remains of it. Fortunately with his gaze averted and a hand brought to his face, he does not see that smile. For it would be too much for his heart to take at the moment.]
...I know not. The damage is severe, there is no avoiding it. There is...much I must do, much I must repair in the wake of it all. My ire—still it burns brightly, I do not know when it will cool, but...
[He doesn't want Hythlodaeus to leave. Even if it hurts to look upon him, seeing his features still had some measure of comfort. Something familiar he has been without for so long. Too long.
And maybe he's weaker than he realized. That he would find himself so dependent upon a shade like he is...]
[ For a man who has spent so long in control of himself, grounded and sure-footed, this is devastating. He knows what the real Hythlodaues would do. Yet doubt has set in. He’s almost aware of his own numbness. ]
[ The only thing that stops his desire for his dissipation in that moment is the more powerful want to comfort Hades.]
[The fretting, the inaction, it drives him mad. He’s aware, vaguely, of his own emotions knocking at the door in his mind, pulling his focus. He wrenches free.]
You’re looking too far ahead.
[ His voice is soft and careful, his expression schooled into one of a more familiar airy neutrality. Hades has no use for a broken shade.]
I mean only the next ten minutes. May I fix you a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits?
[Devastating is quite the accurate word for what this is. What all of this is. Yet, it is far from the worst he has weather, but he supposes it's something of a more personal nature. Something far more intimate.
And as Hythlodaeus wants to comfort Hades, does Hades want for that comfort. Yet, he does not request it. Does not reach for it. He keeps himself distanced, closed off, alone.]
Ah, yes... That sounds quite lovely.
[He's able to get that out without too much of a quaver to his voice, nor a break. As he rubs at his eyes with a quick sweep of his hand, he keeps his face turned from Hythlodaeus, gesturing for him to go.]
[ He steps up behind him, pulling him close into his chest. He tucks his head underneath his own and prompts him to breathe deeply with his own measured breaths. ]
...We stay together or we go together. You’ve spent quite enough time alone.
[As if the sound itself wasn't enough to mark his surprise, the way his body stiffens like a board may. That state does not last long, however, as the familiar warmth and comfort of Hythlodaeus' body eases him from such rigidity. With shuddered breaths, he tries to keep his resolve, and for the most part succeeds.
Or he would, if not for Hythlodaeus' comment. How many lonely centuries has he spent longing for Hythlodaeus--for Azem, too? How alone he's been, how lost he was without them, how achingly quiet the world has proven to be without the two of them making his life the joy it once was.
Had he known. Had he not taken so much for granted. Had he appreciated them and Amaurot and all of it more...
But it's all gone now, and he's ensured that it stays that way. He has forsaken them, forsaken his home, forsaken his brothers. To carry such a burden for far too long, without those he held most dear... Without those he loved without equal. It has worn him down to the core of his immortal soul.
And so, to hear those words with Hythlodaeus' voice, to feel him, to indulge in his warmth--but knowing that he will never truly come back. Even in this world, where the dead live again, he is still denied those he lost. A foolish hope, a foolish belief, that he would ever be so lucky to see them again.
That all his suffering would not earn him the chance.]
[ He dashes the noise in his head telling him to act against his instincts— this culprit of so much these few months. It only made him sick and irritable.]
[This confusing doubt that stood at war with him, he knew that he must oust it were they to survive this. They could sort out the wreckage later. ]
[He turns him by the shoulders and tilts his chin up.]
... You aren’t. And it is just as well to admit this, for you will be in time. I will see to it.
[ He wipes away Hades’ tears, heedless of the new ones that may form to take their place. He casts an arm around his shoulders and leads him inside. ]
[ That cruel self-doubt is not dead, of course. How could it be? Yet for now, this was good enough. It was quiet enough to act. ]
[He does not argue, there would be no point in it. And, as much as he enjoys that arm around him, the comfort and warmth that it gives, he cannot help but feel guilty still. Maybe that's why the tears replace the ones swept away, maybe that's why he cannot look directly at Hythlodaeus, even though he wishes to behold his features. To look upon him and pretend...
But he doesn't, and honestly, his mind goes to Dirk. How, despite all of this mess, he still has Hythlodaeus here. Still has this company, even if it's not the real Hythlodaeus, yet Dirk has...no one.
So really, he feels double the guilt, and isn't that just marvelous?
Nevertheless, he walks with Hythlodaeus, lost to his thoughts but brought out of them just as quickly. Raising his head without a single thought of how his glossy eyes must look, how the red to his face must make him look more like a boy than a man as he stares owlishly at Hythlodaeus. Perhaps he even sounds like one as he answers, finally drawing his gaze away from his company, his voice quiet.]
...Bed, I think. I should be glad to lie down for a spell while you prepare the coffee.
[Not that he needs to sleep more, when he slept through the previous day, but he still feels so tired.]
[ He brings him to the bedroom door as he wishes and pulls back the comforter for him. ]
It shouldn’t be too long.
[ He presses a kiss to the crown of his head as he goes off to prepare their snack. Alone for this moment, he feels a pit open up inside of him. ]
[ Even if Hades doesn’t trust him to fix this, he must. And with clear lines drawn in his duty, he cannot fail. ]
[ He meditates briefly as the water boils and again as it steeps. He reigns his focus in as he brings the tray into the bedroom with that warm, practiced smile upon his face, not trusting it to do as it would naturally. He pours each of them a cup of coffee and divides the delicate anise-scented wafer cookies between them, quiet as he seemed to still be lost in thought. ]
[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.]
[ He hates how Hades looks at him now, and he cannot bear to look him in the face like this. Too soon, too painful, too... too much. ]
...You’re welcome.
[ he stares hard into his coffee cup. They’re both large cups of lightly sweet and creamed coffees. A treat, really. Hythlodaues picks up a pizelle and takes a bite, regretting it immediately with the dryness of his mouth and the sourness in his stomach. When did that happen...? All the same he washes it down so that he doesn’t choke. ]
[ He could almost hear Hades' thoughts as he avoids it all. Scrutinizing him against the real one. Thinking about how he's fake. Thinly veiled resentment. He almost wishes he would have been allowed to leave.]
[Even if he's fake, he doesn't otherwise feel fake. He is too good of a Creation. He was made with the intent to see just as keenly as the real Hythlodaeus. If there were some fault, he would be aware of that much as well. Wouldn't he?]
[He would, he resolves quickly.]
[And he would tell Hades as much if he didn't knock this shit off quickly enough.]
[It'd be foolish to ask what this tension was, when he knows the answer so keenly, yet still he feels the urge to question the shift. When Hythlodaeus was so comforting moments ago, now it feels as though his presence brought with him a blizzard.
Well, that's a little unfair, but still he can feel the unease, and while Hythlodaeus has never proven himself particularly empathic, he knows that he would likely figure out his thoughts. His emotions.
And so, he chooses for the moment to indulge in the coffee and the cookies. Trying to ease the conflict inside himself, though he knows it's a fruitless endeavor.]
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9/13; action
Regardless, this must needs be settled, and while his heart is still heavy and tired from how his date with Dirk ended (not being the only thing that did that night), he presses on. Dressed in a house robe, he looks about how he feels, and does little to hide it as he approaches Hythlodaeus while he's in the garden, tending to his Cutiefly as per usual.
The image should stoke warm affection in his bosom.
It doesn't.]
What irony that we would again need to talk and find ourselves in this familiar scene.
[He doesn't let Hythlodaeus say anything before he adds sharply:]
I know the truth.
no subject
[Well. Fuck. He takes a steadying breath as he looks at the bug in his hand. This was too big to give up so easily, without confirmation. Even if Hades’ demeanor could have been enough. He sets his eyes back down at the cutiefly in his hand as he speaks.]
...And how did you learn it?
no subject
[He offers with a similarly sharp edge to his tone.]
But we will not be speaking about Dirk.
no subject
[ Under different circumstances he would fight this, turn it around, distract— But as he reaches into his well, dropping his bucket into the depths, he draws up nothing. ]
... It is a pity you cannot dissipate me for the troubles I’ve caused you, unruly thing that I am.
[ He takes a deep breath. In, out. Facing his creator now, his master, he stands and prompts the cutiefly to go. He places a hand over his heart and bows slightly with far more respect or seriousness than he’s shown anyone at all in a long time. ]
You have questions. I will answer them.
no subject
Of a love long lost to the cruelty of fate.
Yet, can he truly be mad that he wears Hythlodaeus' face when he's the one who gave him it? Can he really be mad when he gave him the mind that he now possesses? Can he truly blame a creation for following that which it was designed to do?
Well...he's not sure if he should be so full of ire, yet he is. He's not sure if he should continue to speak to him as if he's a person, when he isn't. He's not sure of a lot of things, all of this is new—a novelty if it weren't so horrible. All the same, the tightness in his chest does not lessen, and neither does the clench of his jaw as he coldly gazes at him in disappointment.]
Indeed it is.
[The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, a momentary stunned realization, before he folds his arms over his chest with a shake of his head.]
But I will not suffer your self-pity. Nor any more talk of that. [With a narrowing of his eyes, his voice becomes deeper and lower as he asks his single word question:] Why?
no subject
[ The word resounds within his mind. It is both expected and yet not. He had hoped, prayed, that he would never need to reckon with this. Even if he knew it was very possible on some level... He desperately wants to ask why he and Dirk parted ways, yet he can already picture it perfectly. After all, he knows Hades well. He dares not insult his judgment, even in the privacy of his mind.]
...Though I know that I am little more than cleverly woven aether, I began to war with myself. These thoughts in my mind and feelings in my breast...
I had intended to not interfere, least of all with the matters betwixt you and your— You and Dirk.
...Yet I began to ache so keenly and long for you in all of my moments. I found myself forgetting what I truly am around you, losing firm ground and clarity of thought.
[ It feels like someone has closed their hands around his heart as he looks up to meet his gaze.]
...Perhaps it is this setting, as well. Cloying in its strangeness, surreal in its very existence. I was not made to be here, so unsure and so full of half-cocked self-restraint.
[ In spite of himself, he feels his eyes begin to water. ]
no subject
He's about to reprimand him for dodging the true answer, why he lied to him in the first place. Why he pretended to be the real Hythlodaeus, not this half-mistake of a thing—but then he notices the unnatural shine to Hythlodaeus' eyes.
Oh how his heart aches at the sight. How his expression melts like butter in a pan, the hard edges giving way as his clear empathy paints his expression. Only for a moment, however, because his mind reminds his heart that this is not the man he looks like. The man whose likeness, mind, and memories are being used in every way they shouldn't be. His glower finds itself on his features once more, and his shoulders square defiantly as he finds his resolve once more.]
Why did you pretend to be Hythlodaeus from the first? Why did you deceive me—why would you allow me to indulge in a hope as painful as it is false? How much more cruelty did you plan to inflict upon me ere I'd be made aware of your fraudulent existence?
[He can feel his anger rising, and with it his pitch. He speaks quickly, almost squawking at the end of that, and even as he continues, it's hard to keep his voice steady.]
I understand you grew to forget your falsehood, blinded by feelings that are not yours, but I know you—or rather Hythlodaeus whom you are naught but a hollow mock of—so tell me: what was your motive in obfuscating the truth?
no subject
[ He blinks back his tears as his mouth sets into a rarely seen frown. ]
As your creation, I knew your heart and mind from the first and feared how you might succumb to despair without your tempering.
Additionally, without an understanding of the nature of our captivity, I feared some irreparable temporal catastrophe— this much I have laid to rest with my newer understanding.
And... I just... wanted to be the real Hythlodaeus for you, with all my heart.
[ He averts his gaze as his brow furrows and the tears begin to fall. ]
Even if the real Hythlodaeus would have navigated this much better and perhaps would have found it within himself to tell you that you had died.
no subject
Perhaps something that would make his anger feel more justified? Something that would truly demonize his creation in some way that this hurt could merely be fueled into more anger. Anything at all that could dry up this ocean of misery, yet he finds it only expanding. The more he sees him, hears him...the more difficult it all is.
The answers leave him feeling hollow and petty. Yet, he cannot shake feeling justified in his anger—what Hythlodaeus did was cruel. He lead him astray, and while he will fully admit to his part in the infidelity he committed, he certainly would not have been tempted if he had known.
And now what does that leave him with? A broken heart and a broken shade, as if he hadn't enough misery already. Though, he's certain things with Dirk are not final, that the man wanted to interact with him still at all, regardless of it being more work-oriented than not, was an in. Was a means to amend.
But this? Between him and Hythlodaeus—his mistaken creation that was an oversight due to his own longing and love? This simulacrum that could never be that which he replicates. Never fill the hole that he left. Even if his heart's sole desire is to be the man he was made after, he cannot.
It is simply...impossible. Or so Hades believes.]
...I trust you realize all of this has ended in failure, yes? You cannot be Hythlodaeus, only a replica of him. You could not hide my inevitable demise from me, for it was meant to be, and lastly—
[His jaw tightens, his arms having since unfolded, they hang at his sides with his hands balled into fists.]
—you have brought naught but despair, and my tempering or lack thereof has naught to do with it! You have acted beyond your bounds, dared trifle with that which a being such as you should never, and with it you have betrayed and wounded me.
So, what then, what do you plan to do? What was your contingency should I find out—because despite the fact you wished to keep this a secret, you certainly felt the need to tell others. To raise suspicion! I daresay, you might have succeeded at one thing had you kept that mouth of yours shut, but no! You could not even achieve that much!
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[ His voice breaks and his fists ball. ]
For all the misery I have caused you, I shall trouble you no longer. How embarrassing for a Creation to be worse than useless. How insulting to your memory of Hythlodaues. I shall gather my things.
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[He says all too quickly.]
I am not commanding you to leave, nor implying such. Thus far your decisions have ended in nothing good, so why would this one prove any different? Are you to run from responsibility? Cower away from my wrath at your careless actions?
[His hands release from the balled up fists they were, one raising to comb back his hair as it runs through it, his expression pulling tight with a scowl.]
I have lost Hythlodaeus once. Should I really suffer losing him again..? Even if you are not—cannot be him. Your likeness... I am your recreator, and you my creation. It would be irresponsible of me to cast you out, and so I will not.
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[He grasps The fabric at his knees and hangs his head, offering himself just the slightest bit of privacy with which to shed his tears.]
[He realizes too late that he’s allowed himself to... to panic? Something akin to it. His thoughts are jumbled and disorganized, his emotions beginning to close to him as he discards his own permissions.]
[He’s barely aware that he hasn’t even verbally replied to his maker as his thoughts spin.]
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[How unexpected. Cruelly he chalks it up to an imperfection in Hythlodaeus' replication, than aught that he could have ever caused in Hythlodaeus himself. As if the thought would serve as the balm his aching heart needs, but it does nothing.
Nothing at all as he stares down at the man kneeling before him. The shade, the copy, the mimic of his dear friend. Of his love.
Yet, despite his stubbornness, he is not as cruel as he might try to be, and his already wounded heart yearns to reach out, to comfort...anything to assuage the pain he knows he's feeling. He can feel. Just as it were with that phoenix, as it slammed into the walls of the bureau, again and again in its panic. In it's pain.
Destroying itself over and over again, only to hopelessly revitalize so it could do it all again. And while beautiful, breathtakingly so, it did not wear Hythlodaeus as its form.
He knows not what he's doing as he lowers himself, his arms encircling him as his own head rests against the top of Hythlodaeus'. He's still angry, still hurt, but what can he do? Would Hythlodaeus condemn him for this weakness? Would he find fault in him for seeking comfort and kindness in this sorry shade he made of him?
Part of him tells him he wouldn't, that he would understand. That he would not forsake him and wish him to continue this path of solitude and isolation he has followed for so very long...
Yet the guilt. It's there. Ever is it. Pressing hard on his heart, and harder yet through his thoughts. Which is why within a few moments, he aims to stand once more, to retract his hold. His mind, his heart is a tempest of emotions and thoughts that he has little hope of sorting, nor understanding in the moment.
How can he when he is so struck with his own mourning?]
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[ What right did he have to Hades either— ]
[ A small part of him remembers that Hades offered to take responsibility. Another reminds him that he should be comforting Hades. He can’t stand this. He grits his teeth and takes a deep breath, pushing the feelings down.]
[Down.]
[down.]
[He lets out one more shuddering breath, feeling both entirely unrelieved and entirely sick of the turmoil. He releases Hades, pulling back and standing up. He wipes the tear trails from his cheeks, forcing a smile.]
...What would you have me do?
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Breath hitched in his throat, eyes burning from the sting of tears welling within them, and like his chest, his jaw aches from the tightness of how it clenches. Silently do his tears slick his cheeks, yet with each that falls, he feels no better. It changes nothing.
It does not bring Hythlodaeus back.
It does not make this man any more Hythlodaeus than he was moments ago.
It does not resolve the anguish in his heart that has been renewed.
It does not save him from this despair, and maybe nothing truly will.
As Hythlodaeus regains his resolve, he's far from regaining his own. Which is why when the other man stands, wiping away his own tears, Hades turns his head away from him, his mouth pulled into a tight grieving frown as he hopes his hair will be enough to hide his silent weeping.
But he asked him a question, didn't he? Swallowing thickly—a feeling akin to forcing a lead ball through a passage far too small—he regains his voice, or what remains of it. Fortunately with his gaze averted and a hand brought to his face, he does not see that smile. For it would be too much for his heart to take at the moment.]
...I know not. The damage is severe, there is no avoiding it. There is...much I must do, much I must repair in the wake of it all. My ire—still it burns brightly, I do not know when it will cool, but...
[He doesn't want Hythlodaeus to leave. Even if it hurts to look upon him, seeing his features still had some measure of comfort. Something familiar he has been without for so long. Too long.
And maybe he's weaker than he realized. That he would find himself so dependent upon a shade like he is...]
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[ The only thing that stops his desire for his dissipation in that moment is the more powerful want to comfort Hades.]
[The fretting, the inaction, it drives him mad. He’s aware, vaguely, of his own emotions knocking at the door in his mind, pulling his focus. He wrenches free.]
You’re looking too far ahead.
[ His voice is soft and careful, his expression schooled into one of a more familiar airy neutrality. Hades has no use for a broken shade.]
I mean only the next ten minutes. May I fix you a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits?
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And as Hythlodaeus wants to comfort Hades, does Hades want for that comfort. Yet, he does not request it. Does not reach for it. He keeps himself distanced, closed off, alone.]
Ah, yes... That sounds quite lovely.
[He's able to get that out without too much of a quaver to his voice, nor a break. As he rubs at his eyes with a quick sweep of his hand, he keeps his face turned from Hythlodaeus, gesturing for him to go.]
I will need a moment ere I can join you.
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...We stay together or we go together. You’ve spent quite enough time alone.
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[As if the sound itself wasn't enough to mark his surprise, the way his body stiffens like a board may. That state does not last long, however, as the familiar warmth and comfort of Hythlodaeus' body eases him from such rigidity. With shuddered breaths, he tries to keep his resolve, and for the most part succeeds.
Or he would, if not for Hythlodaeus' comment. How many lonely centuries has he spent longing for Hythlodaeus--for Azem, too? How alone he's been, how lost he was without them, how achingly quiet the world has proven to be without the two of them making his life the joy it once was.
Had he known. Had he not taken so much for granted. Had he appreciated them and Amaurot and all of it more...
But it's all gone now, and he's ensured that it stays that way. He has forsaken them, forsaken his home, forsaken his brothers. To carry such a burden for far too long, without those he held most dear... Without those he loved without equal. It has worn him down to the core of his immortal soul.
And so, to hear those words with Hythlodaeus' voice, to feel him, to indulge in his warmth--but knowing that he will never truly come back. Even in this world, where the dead live again, he is still denied those he lost. A foolish hope, a foolish belief, that he would ever be so lucky to see them again.
That all his suffering would not earn him the chance.]
...Yes. How foolish of me.
[His voice is quiet and low--fragile, really.]
Let us go then, I am quite all right.
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[This confusing doubt that stood at war with him, he knew that he must oust it were they to survive this. They could sort out the wreckage later. ]
[He turns him by the shoulders and tilts his chin up.]
... You aren’t. And it is just as well to admit this, for you will be in time. I will see to it.
[ He wipes away Hades’ tears, heedless of the new ones that may form to take their place. He casts an arm around his shoulders and leads him inside. ]
[ That cruel self-doubt is not dead, of course. How could it be? Yet for now, this was good enough. It was quiet enough to act. ]
To the table or to bed?
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But he doesn't, and honestly, his mind goes to Dirk. How, despite all of this mess, he still has Hythlodaeus here. Still has this company, even if it's not the real Hythlodaeus, yet Dirk has...no one.
So really, he feels double the guilt, and isn't that just marvelous?
Nevertheless, he walks with Hythlodaeus, lost to his thoughts but brought out of them just as quickly. Raising his head without a single thought of how his glossy eyes must look, how the red to his face must make him look more like a boy than a man as he stares owlishly at Hythlodaeus. Perhaps he even sounds like one as he answers, finally drawing his gaze away from his company, his voice quiet.]
...Bed, I think. I should be glad to lie down for a spell while you prepare the coffee.
[Not that he needs to sleep more, when he slept through the previous day, but he still feels so tired.]
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It shouldn’t be too long.
[ He presses a kiss to the crown of his head as he goes off to prepare their snack. Alone for this moment, he feels a pit open up inside of him. ]
[ Even if Hades doesn’t trust him to fix this, he must. And with clear lines drawn in his duty, he cannot fail. ]
[ He meditates briefly as the water boils and again as it steeps. He reigns his focus in as he brings the tray into the bedroom with that warm, practiced smile upon his face, not trusting it to do as it would naturally. He pours each of them a cup of coffee and divides the delicate anise-scented wafer cookies between them, quiet as he seemed to still be lost in thought. ]
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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.]
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...You’re welcome.
[ he stares hard into his coffee cup. They’re both large cups of lightly sweet and creamed coffees. A treat, really. Hythlodaues picks up a pizelle and takes a bite, regretting it immediately with the dryness of his mouth and the sourness in his stomach. When did that happen...? All the same he washes it down so that he doesn’t choke. ]
[ He could almost hear Hades' thoughts as he avoids it all. Scrutinizing him against the real one. Thinking about how he's fake. Thinly veiled resentment. He almost wishes he would have been allowed to leave.]
[Even if he's fake, he doesn't otherwise feel fake. He is too good of a Creation. He was made with the intent to see just as keenly as the real Hythlodaeus. If there were some fault, he would be aware of that much as well. Wouldn't he?]
[He would, he resolves quickly.]
[And he would tell Hades as much if he didn't knock this shit off quickly enough.]
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Well, that's a little unfair, but still he can feel the unease, and while Hythlodaeus has never proven himself particularly empathic, he knows that he would likely figure out his thoughts. His emotions.
And so, he chooses for the moment to indulge in the coffee and the cookies. Trying to ease the conflict inside himself, though he knows it's a fruitless endeavor.]
...If you have aught to say, I suggest you do so.
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