Emet-Selch (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
amaure) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2020-06-22 12:46 pm
amaure) wrote in victory_road2020-06-22 12:46 pm
Goldenrod ex, 5/8 undersized (closed)
Who: Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus, Estinien, Ziva, Urianger (maybe Dirk)
Where: Goldenrod city, mainly Emet-Selch's small apartment, but also elsewhere in the city.
When: 22nd-25th
Summary: The party has now reached Goldenrod, and they have decided to make Emet's life hell. You know, how most of his relationships do. He ain't single and he ain't ready to mingle and yet...
Rating: Will update as needed, gen for now.
When he had sent Estinien to retrieve Hythlodaeus, he had not expected there to be others among their traveling group! Let alone others from their own star—one of which he is familiar with, the other...well, in a way he is, but he hasn't fully gotten the confirmation she may yet be who Hythlodaeus suspects she is. The hero of the source he knows is not a small blond woman, but an average height brunet man, and as such he's left a little conflicted with the possibility of such differences.
Regardless of all of that, he did not expect the group to arrive at his rather quaint apartment. Barely is it suited for Hythlodaeus alone, but especially not five people in total! The knock on his door was expected, but not the slew of faces that assaulted his gaze upon opening it. His exasperated and dramatic flourish of his discontent was likely more amusing than scathing, and while he had little choice but to let them in, it did result in him locking himself in the bathroom for a time.
Glad as he is to see Hythlodaeus at long last, there's something ruinous about the unexpected company! Particularly when a certain dragoon looks both smug and amused, with that small grin of his, at the vexation brought on by these ill-turn of events, and Solus' clear surprise. Finally with some coaxing, he finds himself among them once more, looking none too pleased about it, but what can he do? Sure, he could tell them to leave, but he knows what a fool's endeavor that will be.
If this were to become the usual among their group, if his dwelling would be their landing whenever they arrive at Goldenrod, a home base if you will, then something will have to change. For now, this is his lot, terrible though it is.
Where: Goldenrod city, mainly Emet-Selch's small apartment, but also elsewhere in the city.
When: 22nd-25th
Summary: The party has now reached Goldenrod, and they have decided to make Emet's life hell. You know, how most of his relationships do. He ain't single and he ain't ready to mingle and yet...
Rating: Will update as needed, gen for now.
When he had sent Estinien to retrieve Hythlodaeus, he had not expected there to be others among their traveling group! Let alone others from their own star—one of which he is familiar with, the other...well, in a way he is, but he hasn't fully gotten the confirmation she may yet be who Hythlodaeus suspects she is. The hero of the source he knows is not a small blond woman, but an average height brunet man, and as such he's left a little conflicted with the possibility of such differences.
Regardless of all of that, he did not expect the group to arrive at his rather quaint apartment. Barely is it suited for Hythlodaeus alone, but especially not five people in total! The knock on his door was expected, but not the slew of faces that assaulted his gaze upon opening it. His exasperated and dramatic flourish of his discontent was likely more amusing than scathing, and while he had little choice but to let them in, it did result in him locking himself in the bathroom for a time.
Glad as he is to see Hythlodaeus at long last, there's something ruinous about the unexpected company! Particularly when a certain dragoon looks both smug and amused, with that small grin of his, at the vexation brought on by these ill-turn of events, and Solus' clear surprise. Finally with some coaxing, he finds himself among them once more, looking none too pleased about it, but what can he do? Sure, he could tell them to leave, but he knows what a fool's endeavor that will be.
If this were to become the usual among their group, if his dwelling would be their landing whenever they arrive at Goldenrod, a home base if you will, then something will have to change. For now, this is his lot, terrible though it is.
no subject
It doesn't show, he's pretty sure, because no one else has ever commented on moments like it, not in any physical terms anyway. But there's a kind of relief, like a knot untied, when he gets actual agreement.
Which he can assume also doesn't show as he hands the eye-searingly yellow and candy corn orange plush to his partner, ass first. Its long, springy legs jut out in either direction as he does; it doesn't really stare back at him, though, since its eyes are in fact focused in two distinctly different directions, albeit oriented vaguely upwards.
He barely waits for Emet to take the little guy, though, before he's already looking for another one.
"Oh yeah? I mean, I'm not surprised," he's saying when he finds it--propped up in a corner and drops the lone sky-blue eye on the edge of the table to retrieve a long-limbed wide-eyed rod-and-mouth puppet that he supports briefly in the crook of his arm before he gets his hand inside its torso and can demonstrate it properly. The puppet turns its head to regard him, and then to regard Emet before nodding vigorously in agreement, like it too was expecting this piece of information, all the while Dirk's own face fails to emote at all.
"But I'd love to hear about them." Then, in case that somehow wasn't clear, he adds, "I mean that."
no subject
For a second, Emet just stares at the puppet, a baffled sort of smile on his face—but again there's no judgment. If anything, he's genuinely entertained by this, and maybe he feels the slightest bit of, well, pity for a man who is so infatuated with puppets like this. Not because it's childish, and not because it's an any lesser form of art or acting, but...well, there's something to be said about someone who seems a bit like a loner, but surrounds him with that which mocks the truly living.
Hm, maybe that's not too far off from why Emet mingles with mortals...now there's a thought.
"Oh, very well. Let us have a—" his eyes trail past Dirk to look at what's available in his abode, and it's...certainly not much for sitting. He supposes there's the mattress on the floor, and the mass of pillows. His eyes flick back to Dirk and the puppet that are both staring at him,"—ah, well. Nevermind. As I was saying, Amaurot loved the theatrical arts, regardless of the type. Ever have I been a patron of such, and ever shall I be. Puppetry, as I am sure you know, has ever been a part of theatre, and as such we had a great array of them, though most did indeed bear our resemblance—robes and mask alike."
He turns the smuppet over, so he's regarding its face, strange though it is.
"Ours were not controlled by typical strings, nor as that one in your possession is manipulated. Rather, our puppeteers would do so through their magic, enchant their creations." He glances to the spare fabric around, looking for a sewing machine.
"Mayhap I can make you one someday—though it will need modifications, seeing as we both are sorely aware that the necessary enchantments are impossible here."
no subject
In other words: he does it all by hand.
Dirk no idea what to make of Emet's expression at this point, and a crease forms between his brows.
"Enchanted as in autonomous with a script, or enchanted as in direct control? Or as in both, I guess that's an option. Magic just kind of does whatever, at least where I'm from."
no subject
Truly an artist.
As his eyes fall back to Dirk, he notices the crease, but only offers him a disarming smile. "Aye, one or both have been used. But, true puppeteers enjoyed the feel of direct control, for they oft found it a far more genuine act of artistic intrigue, one more of heart, soul, and passion! Than it would have been if they left it to mere automation. And I would have to agree."
no subject
As a result, Dirk tends to find it insulting at best. At worst, it's obnoxious to the point of becoming actively antagonistic.
Emet, though... Emet is surprisingly good at it.
So when Dirk's eyebrows rise over the tops of his shades, it's genuine. It's a real novelty, listening to someone else's words and hearing his own thoughts reflected in them. Without even his own direction or narration to make it happen... fabrication or not, he likes it.
As is often the case, though, his reaction otherwise very subdued--just the partial upturn of one corner of his mouth.
"Ah. I see you're a man of culture as well."
no subject
The one thing about Emet, is that he's pretty good at reading people, pretty good at figuring out what makes them tick, what makes them work. Which, naturally, makes his ability to lie and manipulate an easy enough affair! However, in this case he certainly is not doing either. As it happens, perhaps he and Dirk are cut from the same cloth, so to speak.
He does notice that ghost of a smirk though.
"But it does put my heart at ease to know I was not wrong about you," he begins again, but then does a cursory glance around the room, "though, admittedly, I did not wager your interests had aught to do with any of...this. I consider it a pleasant surprise."
Pleasant, because it's entertaining. Adds some interesting layers to Dirk, and it's rare when someone can surprise him.
no subject
He glances from the marionettes hanging from the ceiling to the smuppet in Emet's hands.
And the faint uptick at the corner of his lips doesn't dissipate back into a flat line.
"You think this is surprising?"
no subject
"Ones whom have such interests, in my experience, do not carry themselves as you do. It is a nice change of pace. Not quite the interests themselves are by any means strange nor surprising, rather, you break the mold."
He looks back to Dirk, tilting his head curiously, "I do so hope my surprise is not upsetting, scant do I wish to insult you, when truly all I have is admiration."
no subject
He is better than his so-called peers in just about every way but one. And that one appears to matter little to Emet, so what is there to worry about?
(A question not to be asked except in the relative privacy of his own thoughts.)
"Not at all," he shrugs easily. "Not sure if you've ever heard the saying, but as they like to say, 'Curiosity killed the cat, but the satisfaction brought it back.' I just like to know."