Work Text:
The Warrior of Light was far too familiar for Emet-Selch’s liking, he had deduced.
Too errant, too headstrong, too caught up in her fever dreams of heroism and wanderlust to think of practicalities. He saw it in the way she held her friends and allies close, even when the likes of Urianger and the Exarch toiled in their schemes and secrets. In the manner she so foolishly tosses herself headway into danger, thinking of the future and their place in it only when it suited their meaningless brand of gallantry.
Even now, standing before him, the Warrior was nearly buckling under her own weight, clearly on the verge of being consumed by their primordial light, simply in an attempt to confront him with a modicum of composure.
Lightwardens have no need for composure.
“...the Exarch… if you could be so kind?” She has the nerve to request, albeit with a pained smile.
This “Warrior” held no esteem for the home he’d lost, the friends that he mourned, nor for the prospects of their resurrection; nothing that mattered.
“Here I thought bearing witness to Amaurot’s final days would play to your heroic nature- does the prospect of forestalling such a tragedy not sway you in the slightest?”
He knew the answer before he’d even asked the question. He’d heard it before.
“Not if it means answering it with another.”
Azem, the Fourteenth seat of the Congregation. The Shepherd. The Traveler.
The sole seat opposed to Zodiark’s sacrifice.
Those intense eyes boring into his, as if searching for some compassion he’d kept stocked away. Azem oft accused Emet of being heartless, but there was always a certain crease at the corners of her eyes and a faint lilt in her voice that would give away her true feelings towards him. This shade, however, looked at him as though he truly were the monster that Azem would humorously paint him out to be.
“Emet! Tell Elidibus that he should take a break- he’ll work himself into a coma before he gets all this done by today!”
“Let the young man toil, Azem, he won’t get anything done if you insist on interrupting him.”
“So cruel! So heartless!” She’d said, noting the faint crease on the corners of her eyes before she whipped around to once again face their peer. “Look! The rains have ceased! We’ve been graced with another beautiful day, Elidibus! Don't you want to see it?”
A wayward soul that had once been so eager to venture out into their star, to grace each and every day as though it were all brand-new, now cared so little for its fate. Emet-Selch could do little to hide the grimace that her response had elicited.
“Oh how men have fallen since the death of our star. I almost pity that you won’t live long enough to see how your ilk are so dwarfed by the measure of your ancestors.”
That infuriating smile morphed into one that reeked of pity.
“...The way you shoulder your people’s hopes and dreams, even after they’ve passed…. it’s heroic in its own right.”
The statement made his boil boil and temper all at once.
“Hmm… you don't show it, but you’re a real hard worker, aren't you, Emet. You and Elidibus should really take it easy sometimes.”
“The weight of the lives you’re supposed to protect… losing yourself amidst all of the things you’ve still yet to do… I can never fathom the immense burden you’ve carried, but it’s a feeling I’m not unfamiliar with.” She says, her voice growing ever-hoarse with the primordial light thrumming in her veins.
“...You know nothing of our suffering.” Emet-Selch seethed.
“And I can only hope to die before I ever do. But, if you’ve taken it upon yourself to fight on behalf of those who’ve come before, then I have no choice but to fight for those who shall come after.” With a brandish of their weapon, the corners of their eyes crease as they pass him one more cruel smile. “You’ve earned your rest, Emet-Selch, allow me to grant you this one mercy.”
He’s attempted to reason with her, make her see eye-to-eye with everything he sought to accomplish.
But to no avail.
Azem, the Fourteenth seat of the Congregation. The Shepherd. The Traveler.
Emet-Selch refuses to allow her to be the fall of their star.