Mm. Then I'm glad that...despite that, you're happy to be with me and with Alex. I don't mind being seen that way. I want to live life happily and freely and enjoy everything it has to offer, even if its short.
[His fingers caress the back of the other's hand, lightly.]
And if that makes you happy, being with us as we are, then I know I've done my job. Haha.
Well, in fairness, I do not see it as being with her myself. I hardly know her, as things stand-- we simply have a partner in common. But I do not dislike her, either.
[hansa and chiron like her, he's fine with her company so it's not like he's just putting up with her... sharing with her is acceptable.]
... but given that I no longer have eternity left to me-- yes. I believe we may make something of it, before I take the rest I have earned.
[That actually surprises him a little, his eyebrows arching, before he eases into a fox-like grin. His hands shift so that he's draping his arms over the other's shoulders.]
For someone so wordy, you could've just said you wanted it before. Ah, but I guess it falls on me to read between the lines.
[He laughs a little, and it sounds like a set of cheerful bells. Its the last thing that comes from him, before he just stares, as fond as fond can be, before moving in to close the distance.]
[He's not exactly an experienced kisser or anything. But he can do it light and gentle at least. How strange, for something so soft to be happening in the middle of a graveyard.]
Did I ever say that I wanted it? I believe I only mentioned I was owed...
[but he sounds amused, even as he says it-- and the lightness of it, the gentle touch, almost takes him a bit by surprise. given the sort of personality hansa tends to have, it isn't quite what he expected...
but it is rather nice, in a way. emet-selch rests a hand at the back of his head, quietly guiding as he leans into it; he does have experience, much as i hate to think about it, and he has no problem leading.
god this would not happen without the love arrows i am still dying.]
[Sometimes you spend ten years with a man, and you don't expect anything to come of it.]
[Sometimes you watch a boy die, and you realize you share something with the other man that no one else will know. Your little secret. Your little tragedy. Even Hilda and Alyssa, would they understand, really understand...?]
[And sometimes, feelings grow, one thing leads to another, the Realm decides to push its hand in ways you don't understand, and even though your thoughts are addled, and your inhibitions for things like this are lessened, its still nice, isn't it?]
[He makes a light noise at the hand to the back of his head and he just enjoys the kiss for what it is. Its different from kissing Alex, for sure. There, its a kiss of simple joy, of wanting to share, and here it just feels steeped in so much that he can't begin to describe it.]
[He likes it, all the same, even as he feels his own inexperience might be evident. Anything would be, to an immortal.]
[Much better than being kissed as a frog, though, he can say that much.]
[bc you know the scene but i like keeping the tags for other people's reference... BIG OL' SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS COMING for anyone reading later.
sometimes, you tell yourself that ever having cared for a mortal was only a momentary lapse, and that it will not happen again. sometimes you lose parts of yourself and recall others-- sometimes everything simply aligns, and the heart remains a fickle thing. (sometimes you get love arrowed and just don't fucking know it.) but it has all led to this, to a moment that, despite himself, he finds he enjoys.
of course, when he leans back to breathe, he bumps right into a memory bubble that floated behind him as they kissed, and they are both thrown into something far less pleasant.]
[this will be the end of it. the end of all their interference in your work-- you have tested them, and they have failed. their hero has failed to contain the light they absorbed from this world, their group in its entirety has failed to prove their worth; they stand tall among other mortals, yes, but that is all. you cannot entrust the world and the future to them. you will not abandon your course. the world as it was must be restored.
it is easy work. they cannot hold a candle to you, none of them can, and you look forward to watching their precious hero destroy this world. (unfortunate. you had such high hopes and expectations, but even with half his soul restored, your old friend is not himself. this is not him. it cannot be.)
--but then there is an interruption. a disruption. there is-- something, which happens to him, and with your keen sight you can see the increased brightness of his soul. for just a moment you see-
...it can't be. he cannot truly be himself, it must be a trick of the light, of your sight. you have not seen that figure in thousands upon thousands of years, and this soul is only eight times rejoined. it cannot be (or perhaps this is what you tell yourself, to continue. you must continue, despite this. something in your very soul will not let you stop; you have always known you are bound to your god's will. you let your soul turn knowing it was happening.)
his friend makes to summon more of his heroic companions from other worlds, all for the sake of his hero, for the sake of stopping you. faced with this, with the sudden stability of his previously breaking soul...
you give him your true name, one he remembers no more than he ever remembered you in the first place. you draw upon the power of the underworld and of your god, and let yourself transform with it-- you have not been forced to go this far for millenia.
with all your strength, you fight. the victor shall write the tale, and the vanquished become its villain-- and you refuse to let the story of your people end.]
[they cannot hope to stand against your full might, but residing within this vessel hinders you somewhat, and they fight with such strength-- there is no choice, then, but to draw upon the shades of your brethren to join you. you willingly impale yourself to free yourself from the vessel that stifles you, bringing your full power to bear, and yet-
and yet, they do not die. the light grows faint within them, but somehow their cursed blessing shines through, the blessing of the light which split the world. you curse hydaelyn, and those who first brought her into existence to stand against your own god, the god who saved your world. the god half your people died to summon and the god who will bring them back, if you can only make him whole-- if you only offer up the malformed souls of these remnant worlds in exchange.
with the strength of that light do they wear you down, but they have no power over you.
and so you call upon everything you have left. you will not yield, not when you bear the burden of all these souls upon your own-- for them, you must fight until you cannot go any further. for them you cannot stop unless they make you. and while they try to restrain you with their light, while they impale you with the only form of crystal that can destroy your very soul... still you fight. still you are intent upon swallowing them in darkness.
you break free, and you let the darkness swell, and swell. within it, a light glimmers, but you do not stop. it will not stop you-- you have only to strike their hero down.
there is only darkness, until that light shines brighter, and brighter, and pierces--
... your darkness fades.
beneath the renewed daylight, you feel your very self begin to fade, too; despite all your power, despite everything you could do, this is the end. you feel the pull of your soul toward the underworld, the lifestream, where it will now belong to the world... a world which, by rights, will now belong to them. your story, you can see, has reached its end, and your soul is released from your god's sway. you no longer wish to fight; you are tired, in a way you have not been before, and you are dissipating, beginning from the hole cut right through your very self.
you face this new version of your old friend one more time. with a soul such as that...
you entrust your legacy to him. his legacy, though he does not fully know himself. remember us. remember that we once lived; remember yourself, you silently hope, though... it seems he is much like he ever was, at the core of his soul.
he nods, and as you begin to truly fade, you manage a smile.
you remember what you committed unto his crystal, containing your memories of his station. he was not meant to have one, but you created it anyway, not telling the other two unsundered. he deserved this much. you remember--
herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler. shepherd to the stars in the dark. though the world be sundered and our souls set adrift, where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow.
[What a pleasant kiss. Hansa smiles as he leans back, opening his eye to look at Emet-Selch, but what he sees makes his smile disappear in a trace.]
[Its a lot to take in. Everything, from the darkened the backdrop, the thrumming of the heat of the battle, between an Emet-Selch who laughs in the other's faces, laughs in the face of grief, of anguish, and the obvious pain and desperation of the people he faces, determined to save themselves from this...menace. This man, this being already poised to finish his deeds, and seal their fates to guarantee his own.]
[The King of the Underworld, of course - thinks Hansa, momentarily, before the man transforms into...something that briefly takes his breath away. And then the impossible fight. Matched against equals, light against the open jaw of the dark. And after all of that, after every effort, Emet-Selch, the man who he remembers sitting patiently at the kitchen table, teaching a young boy equations to help him do better in school, descends like a demon. Hansa's heart feels like its ripping - because its him, its him still, and yet he's about to kill them, destroy them all, give his anguish form-]
[And then the light pierces, like a knife, and...]
[In a quiet moment, and a light smile, its over.]
[The remnants of hope, and sorrow, and still yet, a belief in the future.]
[Hansa blinks as the memory fades. Emet-Selch is here again, with no wound through his chest. He's already lived ten years in what feels like no time at all, but this time, he feels like he's experienced millennia in a moment. His emotions rise to the surface.]
Those weren't shades you were trying to destroy-!
[Is his first reaction - his expression pained, sharp, because of course, its hardly like Emet-Selch lied to him, he didn't, but it was because in his perspective, that's what they were, weren't they? Until...until...]
[He lets the tension recede, like a wave. His hands clutch the other's shoulders, glad for the reminder that he's physically there.]
...But you understood that at the end. I think you did. I...hope you did.
[That despite everything, those were people too. That they were worthy, of carrying a dying history.]
[Hansa shakes his head, his voice quiet.]
Oh, Emet-Selch...the world on your shoulders has been quite the burden, hasn't it?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[His fingers caress the back of the other's hand, lightly.]
And if that makes you happy, being with us as we are, then I know I've done my job. Haha.
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[hansa and chiron like her, he's fine with her company so it's not like he's just putting up with her... sharing with her is acceptable.]
... but given that I no longer have eternity left to me-- yes. I believe we may make something of it, before I take the rest I have earned.
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[His hand shifts forward now, pausing before he slides it gently over the side of the man's face.]
I like the sound of that. I'll be around as long as I have to.
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We will see what comes of it all. How we end up bringing this particular chapter to a close. Then, we may move on to an epilogue.
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[He frowns, slightly.]
We can't allow for a bad ending.
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[a slight sigh, at that. he just hopes they don't trip along the way, but that's up to everyone.
he's not positive how much faith he has, but he's working for it.]
But we have the time for now.
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[And a pause. Hansa's mouth twists to the side in a light smirk.]
By the way, thanks for saving me from being a frog, earlier. Guess your kiss got you a prince.
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[he likes hansa very much this week but He Was A Frog.
and, with an arched brow:]
Do you not think you may owe me something in turn, after freeing you so?
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[That actually surprises him a little, his eyebrows arching, before he eases into a fox-like grin. His hands shift so that he's draping his arms over the other's shoulders.]
But here I thought you were already a prince?
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[if he had to do that, then he would like more than thanks in return, thank you.]
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[He laughs a little, and it sounds like a set of cheerful bells. Its the last thing that comes from him, before he just stares, as fond as fond can be, before moving in to close the distance.]
[He's not exactly an experienced kisser or anything. But he can do it light and gentle at least. How strange, for something so soft to be happening in the middle of a graveyard.]
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[but he sounds amused, even as he says it-- and the lightness of it, the gentle touch, almost takes him a bit by surprise. given the sort of personality hansa tends to have, it isn't quite what he expected...
but it is rather nice, in a way. emet-selch rests a hand at the back of his head, quietly guiding as he leans into it; he does have experience, much as i hate to think about it, and he has no problem leading.
god this would not happen without the love arrows i am still dying.]
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[Sometimes you watch a boy die, and you realize you share something with the other man that no one else will know. Your little secret. Your little tragedy. Even Hilda and Alyssa, would they understand, really understand...?]
[And sometimes, feelings grow, one thing leads to another, the Realm decides to push its hand in ways you don't understand, and even though your thoughts are addled, and your inhibitions for things like this are lessened, its still nice, isn't it?]
[He makes a light noise at the hand to the back of his head and he just enjoys the kiss for what it is. Its different from kissing Alex, for sure. There, its a kiss of simple joy, of wanting to share, and here it just feels steeped in so much that he can't begin to describe it.]
[He likes it, all the same, even as he feels his own inexperience might be evident. Anything would be, to an immortal.]
[Much better than being kissed as a frog, though, he can say that much.]
1/2 god this is long i'm sorry
sometimes, you tell yourself that ever having cared for a mortal was only a momentary lapse, and that it will not happen again. sometimes you lose parts of yourself and recall others-- sometimes everything simply aligns, and the heart remains a fickle thing. (sometimes you get love arrowed and just don't fucking know it.) but it has all led to this, to a moment that, despite himself, he finds he enjoys.
of course, when he leans back to breathe, he bumps right into a memory bubble that floated behind him as they kissed, and they are both thrown into something far less pleasant.]
[this will be the end of it. the end of all their interference in your work-- you have tested them, and they have failed. their hero has failed to contain the light they absorbed from this world, their group in its entirety has failed to prove their worth; they stand tall among other mortals, yes, but that is all. you cannot entrust the world and the future to them. you will not abandon your course. the world as it was must be restored.
it is easy work. they cannot hold a candle to you, none of them can, and you look forward to watching their precious hero destroy this world. (unfortunate. you had such high hopes and expectations, but even with half his soul restored, your old friend is not himself. this is not him. it cannot be.)
--but then there is an interruption. a disruption. there is-- something, which happens to him, and with your keen sight you can see the increased brightness of his soul. for just a moment you see-
...it can't be. he cannot truly be himself, it must be a trick of the light, of your sight. you have not seen that figure in thousands upon thousands of years, and this soul is only eight times rejoined. it cannot be (or perhaps this is what you tell yourself, to continue. you must continue, despite this. something in your very soul will not let you stop; you have always known you are bound to your god's will. you let your soul turn knowing it was happening.)
his friend makes to summon more of his heroic companions from other worlds, all for the sake of his hero, for the sake of stopping you. faced with this, with the sudden stability of his previously breaking soul...
you give him your true name, one he remembers no more than he ever remembered you in the first place. you draw upon the power of the underworld and of your god, and let yourself transform with it-- you have not been forced to go this far for millenia.
with all your strength, you fight. the victor shall write the tale, and the vanquished become its villain-- and you refuse to let the story of your people end.]
2/2
and yet, they do not die. the light grows faint within them, but somehow their cursed blessing shines through, the blessing of the light which split the world. you curse hydaelyn, and those who first brought her into existence to stand against your own god, the god who saved your world. the god half your people died to summon and the god who will bring them back, if you
can only make him whole-- if you only offer up the malformed souls of these remnant worlds in exchange.
with the strength of that light do they wear you down, but they have no power over you.
and so you call upon everything you have left. you will not yield, not when you bear the burden of all these souls upon your own-- for them, you must fight until you cannot go any further. for them you cannot stop unless they make you. and while they try to restrain you with their light, while they impale you with the only form of crystal that can destroy your very soul... still you fight. still you are intent upon swallowing them in darkness.
you break free, and you let the darkness swell, and swell. within it, a light glimmers, but you do not stop. it will not stop you-- you have only to strike their hero down.
there is only darkness, until that light shines brighter, and brighter, and pierces--
... your darkness fades.
beneath the renewed daylight, you feel your very self begin to fade, too; despite all your power, despite everything you could do, this is the end. you feel the pull of your soul toward the underworld, the lifestream, where it will now belong to the world... a world which, by rights, will now belong to them. your story, you can see, has reached its end, and your soul is released from your god's sway. you no longer wish to fight; you are tired, in a way you have not been before, and you are dissipating, beginning from the hole cut right through your very self.
you face this new version of your old friend one more time. with a soul such as that...
you entrust your legacy to him. his legacy, though he does not fully know himself. remember us. remember that we once lived; remember yourself, you silently hope, though... it seems he is much like he ever was, at the core of his soul.
he nods, and as you begin to truly fade, you manage a smile.
you remember what you committed unto his crystal, containing your memories of his station. he was not meant to have one, but you created it anyway, not telling the other two unsundered. he deserved this much. you remember--
herein I commit the chronicle of the traveler. shepherd to the stars in the dark. though the world be sundered and our souls set adrift, where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow.
that is the last thing you recall.]
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[Its a lot to take in. Everything, from the darkened the backdrop, the thrumming of the heat of the battle, between an Emet-Selch who laughs in the other's faces, laughs in the face of grief, of anguish, and the obvious pain and desperation of the people he faces, determined to save themselves from this...menace. This man, this being already poised to finish his deeds, and seal their fates to guarantee his own.]
[The King of the Underworld, of course - thinks Hansa, momentarily, before the man transforms into...something that briefly takes his breath away. And then the impossible fight. Matched against equals, light against the open jaw of the dark. And after all of that, after every effort, Emet-Selch, the man who he remembers sitting patiently at the kitchen table, teaching a young boy equations to help him do better in school, descends like a demon. Hansa's heart feels like its ripping - because its him, its him still, and yet he's about to kill them, destroy them all, give his anguish form-]
[And then the light pierces, like a knife, and...]
[In a quiet moment, and a light smile, its over.]
[The remnants of hope, and sorrow, and still yet, a belief in the future.]
[Hansa blinks as the memory fades. Emet-Selch is here again, with no wound through his chest. He's already lived ten years in what feels like no time at all, but this time, he feels like he's experienced millennia in a moment. His emotions rise to the surface.]
Those weren't shades you were trying to destroy-!
[Is his first reaction - his expression pained, sharp, because of course, its hardly like Emet-Selch lied to him, he didn't, but it was because in his perspective, that's what they were, weren't they? Until...until...]
[He lets the tension recede, like a wave. His hands clutch the other's shoulders, glad for the reminder that he's physically there.]
...But you understood that at the end. I think you did. I...hope you did.
[That despite everything, those were people too. That they were worthy, of carrying a dying history.]
[Hansa shakes his head, his voice quiet.]
Oh, Emet-Selch...the world on your shoulders has been quite the burden, hasn't it?