[Another impatient sigh follows, though Emet-Selch seems to be having little trouble keeping up with his companion's gentle teasing nor in delivering a prompt retort. In many ways this feels just like old times, before disaster befell their star, before his entire world was reduced to fragments and dust. Back then his greatest concerns were retrieving wayward souls, arriving to the Capital building at least an hour before the other members of the Convocation, and convincing a certain friend that, no, summoning him halfway across the world to fetch a rare vegetable from the highest mountain peaks above an isolated village was not a proper use of either his time or their powers. And though his heart fairly pangs to indulge the illusion for as long as possible, it also leaves him somewhat disconcerted. Things are, in fact, not the same as they were, and pretending otherwise seems an altogether foolish endeavor.]
[Yet he will play along for at least a little longer, if only for Hythlodaeus's sake.]
Close enough that I can both see and hear what transpires, elsewise the entire affair would be a dreadful waste of time.
[He watches Hythlodaeus even now as he trudges through the field beside him, the feathery heads of some of the stalks of grass flaking off and clinging to his still-damp robe. And though he indulges him, there is a touch of guilt. Even now he picks up on some of the small details which have waned from his memory over the years- the arch of his nose, the lightness of his step. Even knowing that both of them have passed, there is life in that laugh, an unapologetic brightness that he has never exactly managed to recapture.]
[And his words, though genuine, twist in Emet-Selch's chest as sharp as any splinter of white auracite ever could. Enough that his expression turns momentarily pained, the muscles of his jaw twitching before he shifts his attention towards something which cannot harm him and something which he does not particularly care about - the exact angle of the nearest roof, perhaps. Or a group of plants choking one another out for an extra ilm of sunlight.]
[Of course Hythlodaeus, too, is missed. If it were not so, it would not hurt as much.]
How good to know there is at least one person who still appreciates my sense of humor.
no subject
[Yet he will play along for at least a little longer, if only for Hythlodaeus's sake.]
Close enough that I can both see and hear what transpires, elsewise the entire affair would be a dreadful waste of time.
[He watches Hythlodaeus even now as he trudges through the field beside him, the feathery heads of some of the stalks of grass flaking off and clinging to his still-damp robe. And though he indulges him, there is a touch of guilt. Even now he picks up on some of the small details which have waned from his memory over the years- the arch of his nose, the lightness of his step. Even knowing that both of them have passed, there is life in that laugh, an unapologetic brightness that he has never exactly managed to recapture.]
[And his words, though genuine, twist in Emet-Selch's chest as sharp as any splinter of white auracite ever could. Enough that his expression turns momentarily pained, the muscles of his jaw twitching before he shifts his attention towards something which cannot harm him and something which he does not particularly care about - the exact angle of the nearest roof, perhaps. Or a group of plants choking one another out for an extra ilm of sunlight.]
[Of course Hythlodaeus, too, is missed. If it were not so, it would not hurt as much.]
How good to know there is at least one person who still appreciates my sense of humor.