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Emet-Selch was never one to interrupt a nap. He quite enjoyed them himself, tired as he was. Living as Solus for eighty long years, feeling the creak in his bones might have done something to his soul. There was also the fact that he had lived through eons. Empires rose and fell at his feet. He had had lesser countries bow down and it was all so boring. One rise of a empire ultimately meant the loss of another. It mattered not to him. He had done his part, played each act to perfection. As he had said, he had earned his rest and yet here he was picking up a mess. Emet-Selch’s lips turned downward into a frown. Fractured beings that they were, they still lived. Happy, small, insignificant lives. What was the purpose behind any of it? They all squirmed and called out for succor, like insects incapable of helping themselves, prey to the wider picture. Folly, all of them.
Emet-Selch sighed, looking out from the Crystarium. He found himself remarkable bored. There was a strange lull in the air. No one to save today perhaps. The sun was on the cusp of falling, the soft light hitting his face gently. He remembered such a sunset long ago, much brighter and more vivid then this. The colors of the world were dull in comparison to his magnificent city. Yet, something bothered him still to this day. Every time he would scarcely glimpse that one woman’s soul he couldn’t help but think on it. Wonder if there was truly a lesser path of tragedy going forward. Emet-Selch ran fingers through his head of hair. He needed a nap. His thoughts were racing and when that happened Emet-Selch, well he deigned to hope. His aurum gaze rested on a lone tree, large and spacious enough to leave him a perch. He could conjure up a book and slowly, but surely fall into a tepid sleep in hopes nightmares didn’t plague him. For they often did. Emet-Selch slouched before making his way to the edge of the Crystarium where most of the greenery lie.
“Well speak of the devil.” So his tree had been taken from him as well, lovely, his peace of mind was soon to shatter with her presence alone. “Do move out of the way Hero I need rest.”
Caur however did not move. She instead curled up at her side, her dirty blond hair falling across the grass like dew drops. She was clothed in light armor colored in dark magentas and light pinks. Her dark skin was kissed by the lowering sun. Emet-Selch blinked, a different picture forming in his head. A clothed figure under a self-same tree, silver locks splaying out under her, flowers growing where she laid as her aether worked the ground. Emet-Selch reached out for it.
“Euphrosyne?” The name spilled out in a disastrous mix of hope and despair. The Ascian blinked, and the familiar scene of the Crystarium returned under his purview.
Emet-Selch ran a hand down his face, resting it firmly over his mouth. Enough of that, she was just the fractured remnants of something that used to be whole. Yet when he beheld her soul, all the bitterness in him ebbed away. Damn her. “Sharing a tree with an Ascian-Slayer.” He had done worse for himself he supposed. What was one small nap next to the Hero? After all she was sleeping under his tree. Though, it was never his tree to begin with. Emet-Selch moved quietly, taking a seat next to her sleeping form. A small moan escaped her, her body curling on itself even further. Emet-Selch refused to help her, she made her own bed under the cold breeze that began to roll in. However, Caur shivered, her bare arms ghosted in goose bumps. Emet-Selch couldn’t help but sigh. Must he do everything? He shrugged off his jacket, the fur soft and plush, the black leather heavy for the Burns harsh winters in Garlemald.
He gently threw it over her shoulders and made sure that she was sufficiently covered. “If you catch cold how many you defeat the next Lightwarden.” He laid down next to her curled form and rested his hands under his head.
Perhaps he wouldn’t need to read after all. Emet-Selch closed his eyes, and let the cold breeze brush his hair. The quiet consumed him and for a brief moment he felt his soul at ease, as if nothing had ever changed.
He felt something heavy against his chest, a weight that was not unwelcome. Hot breath fanned against his neck. Emet-Selch twitched but otherwise didn’t move from his place. He turned his head, soft hair tickling his cheek that was not his own. He blinked, blearily and found the girl, the hero in his arms. Snuggled tightly under against his chest. It came as a shock, because while he did take a spot next to her he did not expect the Hero of all people to find his body a welcome pillow. Emet-Selch frowned, he wasn’t a pillow he was a gods damned ascian who shouldn’t be curled up against his enemy. Her weight calmed him however, and he couldn’t find the energy to wake her up. After all, she would just accuse him manipulating her into the entire ordeal.
Emet-Selch found himself sighing. His gaze rested upon the dark sky, starts twinkling, the moon large, cascading light down through the ticket of leaves on the tree. It had dropped in temperature, turned chilly. He would have stayed there longer if there wasn’t a sleeping Hero in his arms. Zodiark if anyone knew what he was about to do he would have no choice but to admit his weakness. That would not bode well for him. Emet-Selch tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her soul shifted from the touch, reaching out and finding nothing in return.
“Why is your hair always in your face, honestly.” He muttered.
Gently, Emet-Selch maneuvered himself in a way out from under her. “I’m far more aware of my surroundings then you are I see. I could have killed you in a matter of minutes. Foolish Hero.”
Emet-Selch moved his arms beneath her and picked her up from the grassy ground. He craddled her head against his chest and found himself watching the grounds closely. There was no Scion in sight, no one to wonder what he was doing. Zodiark he could take her hear and keep her forever. Find all her shards and return her to her former glory. A selfish thought on his part. Silly, foolish dream that would never come to fruition. Emet-selch debated on using the void for quick access to her chambers, but he took the long walk through the Crystarium, hiding his presence from the other mortals taking their nightly stroll or heading home from the night.
Emet-Selch opened the door of Caur’s chambers and resolutely shut it with a soft click. Hadn’t he done this before? Found her in her office fast asleep? Her pen scattered somewhere over her desk and her curly hair peeking out from under her hood? She was so perfect back in those days, beautifully soft spoken and strong. Foolish was he not to realize her admiration sooner. They had spend centuries with each other, and now here they were, one sundered and he cursed to walk the star alone. Fate was cruel. Emet-Selch gestured his hand, pushing the blankets back from her bed before lying her down gently amongst the feather down pillows. Another moan left her parted lips, forcing the ascian to pause once more. Slowly bur surely her violet eyes fluttered open staring back into his for a brief pause, her arms still tight around his neck. It took a moment for her to process her surroundings and who was in her chambers.
Emet-Selch was pushed away. He took a few steps back and his face slowly turned into one of indignation. “Is this how you treat everyone that lends you a hand?”
Caur rubbed her eyes, an obvious frown on her face, sleep still evident in her gaze. “I didn’t need your help.” She was turning red now, baffled that Emet-Selch would deign to drag her back to her chambers in the first place.
“Oh do forgive me, I didn’t realize that you were desperate to fall asleep under the cold dead night.” Emet-Selch’s brows knitted together. “A modicum of thanks could be warranted but I’ve forgotten that the lot of you are simply fractured savages.” Emet-Selch waved his hand dismissively. Should have let her catch cold. Next time he would and then they would see who was upset.
Caur tipped her head back, a noise of frustration leaving her. “Gods why are you so… so…” Emet-Selch raised a brow. “So mean!”
Emet-Selch turned his head to stifle down a low chuckle. How this woman held her tongue was beyond him. “Hero your insults need work.” He turned to face her, a sly smirk on his lips. “Horrible, incorrigible, an infestation on the star it matters not to me. However, mean is mere child’s play.”
“Get out.” Caur pointed to the door, his jacket slipping down one shoulder.
Emet-Selch raised his hands in mock acceptance before he stepped back into the void, disappearing from sight.
“And use the door!” Emet-Selch’s jacket finally completely fell off her shoulders.
Being as tired as Caur was, she had failed to notice. She blinked once, twice, staring at the dark fabric. Her fingers delicately picked it up, thumbs testing the softness, running over raised embroidery lines. The softness of fur at the hems of his jacket were plush and warm, the silk of tassel brushing her arm gently. Had he offered up his jacket because of the cold? Caur bit her lip, her gaze sliding away from the jacket in her hands. It wasn’t like he was coming back after all. Caur gingerly took the coat up to her nose, a flush appearing over her cheeks once more. Sandalwood, the ocean and something else. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She pulled the jacket down and bit down even harder on her lip.
“Stop it Caur now you’re just embarrassing yourself.” She’d have to return it the next time she saw him, discreetly preferably. She buried her face back in his jacket and inhaled, falling down onto her bed. “Twelve what’s wrong with me.”
The next day she took to sneaking her way out of the Pendents and back to the tree she took a nap under. The sun filtered through the leaves, another breeze rolling through Lakeland towards the Crystarium. She bristled, a shiver of nervousness running through her. How would she even gain his attention? Did she call out to him? Or perhaps, did she whistle like she did in Rak’tika? Her thumbs played with the fur, loose locks falling in her face. She blew them away and sighed.
“Here goes nothing.” She threw the jacket over one arm, considering the heaviness of it momentarily. Is that how much weight an emperor had on his shoulders, or was it an Ascian’s? She shook her head and slapped a cheek. “Come on, stop getting distracted.” Caur pursed her lips momentarily before bringing fingers to her mouth. A high-pitched whistle carried through the air, echoing briefly before that familiar noise hit her ears.
“You never cease to amaze me with that high pitched whine of yours.” Emet-Selch rested a gloved hand against his ear briefly before settling a frown on his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you calling out to me?”
“Do you just wait in the shadows for something of interest to occur?” Caur crossed her arms, tilting her head in question.
“I’ve nothing better to do.” Except cause another rejoining and killing the Warrior of Light. “Your reason for disturbing my nap?”
Caur rolled her eyes. Ever the drama queen that he was, she still needed to give back his coat and then she’d be done with him. “I didn’t realize that you gave me your coat. You left it with me so I—” She what? She buried her face in his jacket and relished in his scent. It was almost hard not to stifle herself back in its heavy fabrics. “I thought to give it back to you.” Caur turned her head and tried not to notice the fact that he wasn’t wearing his jacket at all. She could only imagine how silky his regalia was. Caur looked away and outstretched her arm with his jacket hung over it.
Emet-Selch blinked, running his hand over his mouth. Why did he have the inkling that she was hiding something from him? “How thoughtful.” He mocked, he took the jacket back in his hands and shrugged it over his shoulders. It had the scent of her on it, nostalgic and warm.
Caur crossed her arms. “You could at least say thank you.”
“The Hero wants a thank you after I did not receive on in return? I think not.” Emet-Selch tugged on his jacket, refusing to encase himself in her scent.
“Manners beget manners Hero and you have showed poor tact in the subject.”
Caur didn’t want to admit it but he was right. Still, she huffed. “It’s not as if I needed your approval anyway.”
Emet-Selch smirked, “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I wake up to find you curled in my arms under a moonlit night.”
“W-What!” Caur turned red, her eyes widening slightly. “I did no such thing!”
“Oh Hero, you do not realize what you do when you’re asleep, all those soft mutterings why it nearly made even my heart flutter.” He rested a hand over his chest. Of course she did no such thing but to exaggerate the situation and watch her stumble was something of a favorite past time of his.
Caur rested her hands over her cheeks, turning redder by the minute, wracking her brain for the moment in time that she had faltered in her sleep. What did she do? What did she say, surely she didn’t say anything that would have suggested…
“I’ll leave you to your thoughts, you look rather perturbed.”
“Wait!” Caur looked up but Emet-Selch was already gone from her sight. “But, what did I say?”
Damn him.