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.
Re: Onsen
It's not that he's particularly bothered by his scars, at least not by themselves, it's moreso the way they make people look at him--in horror, or in pity. He can't abide either.
A little raft of warmed sake drifts past, and Estinien grabs a cup off it and carefully does not make eye contact.]
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Do they still hurt you?
[His eyes, at least, are now at an appropriate level as he looks Estinien's face over.]
I've had a few injuries, but I've never scarred...
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Estinien glances over, debating for a moment whether or not he wants to actually answer that, ignore it, or ignore it and leave.
But, the water does actually feel rather good, which he will absolutely never tell Solus about because the man will crow endlessly about being right. And this is like to just come up later. So, he just sighs.]
Sometimes they ache, in the cold. Tis all.
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[He asked, hoping. Praying.]
Amaurot lays far to the south... So it was warm year round.
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...my homeland is Coerthas, to the north, in the mountains. Further still, since the last Calamity unbalanced the aether in the region, tis locked in endless winter.
[Sigh.]
I need not your pity, it is what it is. My life is not an endless well of suffering.
[Well, it kinda is, but he still doesn't want you pitying him over it.]
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...Scar tissue can be reduced and healed with manual massage. Here, I'm really quite good at it...
[And he slowly goes for one of Estinien's arms, moving slowly as if he might frighten a wild animal.]
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Estinien scoots back in the water--no amount of massaging is going to make his scars magically disappear, and he doesn't like hands on him. He knew this was a terrible idea, none of you know what personal space is.]
Do not touch me. Please.
[The please is completely an afterthought.]
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I won't touch you unless you wish it. But it won't hurt, I promise.
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Also, you think he's afraid of it hurting, that's funny. His expression is sort of a tired incredulousness, like 'You think that concerns me?' After all, they were just talking about his scars--which certainly didn't tickle when he got the wounds that made them, nor while they were healing.]
I do not enjoy being prodded, nor manhandled. I am not an invalid.
[Even if his knees are probably going to just give out in a couple decades. Bad knees, surprisingly not a problem that dragoons of Ishgard had to worry about, historically speaking. They usually didn't live long enough for it.]
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Do you think someone must be injured beyond function to recieve care? It sounds as though you have never been touched so.
[Please don't tell him about his fucking knees.]
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Tis not what I said, I merely said that I do not enjoy it.
[He's fine, somehow he's not surprised that you share the trait of not knowing when to leave well enough alone.
And yeah, he's definitely not saying anything about them. He can imagine the horror now. 'Sometimes parts of your body give out simply because you use them?']
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Your lovers must find you fussy, even with that mysterious air of yours.
[He picks up some sake for himself. He’s having too much fun to let the buzz falter.]
Unless...
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Unless I do not have one?
[That's right, one, as is good and proper.]
I do not. And afore you ask, no, I am not interested in changing that.
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...Have you never had a lover? I’ve heard of some rather contrary religions walking about... But you needn’t fear your Gods or Goddesses so. Least of all here!
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I am nowhere near drunk enough for this conversation.
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[ He hangs half outside of the onsen and flags down an attendant. Little cups of sake just won’t do. A few moments later, big frosty mugs with a light citrus scent are brought out on a platter. ]
It will annoy them if you spill, but there’s little else so refreshing!
[Are you ready to drink your body weight in soju? ]
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Estinien looks at the offered drink suspiciously--as he's already demonstrated to Emet, he dislikes overly sweet drinks almost as much as he dislikes emotional vulnerability.]
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Well, go on. I’ll keep your head above the water.
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My religion does not bar one from relationships. Not unless you are of the clergy, which I certainly am not. Even they do not seem to follow that directive most of the time.
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Then you just have personal objections? How odd, mortals seemed to breed quite readily. Unlike some of the fussier creatures... I worked with a sub-species of bear for a time that seemed to defy its own design.
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But guess it's not at this point. Estinien just rolls his eyes, fine, let's get this over with. He takes a big ol' drink and waits a moment to see if the earth will swallow him whole and grant him a reprieve from all these nosey, horny assholes. No? Fine.]
I am not interested, tis all.
[Why is this such a big deal.]
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[Jesus, Hythlodaeus.]
What drives you to carry on when the short bleakness of mortality rears its head?
[His expression has at least shifted from kicked puppy to smug curiosity.]
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Fury's sake.]
I would not consider my life 'short' if you did not constantly bring it up. Is that the only argument your kind can proffer, that we are so wretched and pathetic that we do not deserve to live our lives as we will?
You do not want to know what I live for.
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[His drink has made him a little loose lipped, now, hasn't it?]
...Hmm, I simply hesitate to agree that you might know what is best for you.
Unless you would call yourself without a shadow of a doubt happy.
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What is it that you wish to hear? That you are right, that I am a miserable cur determined to wallow in sadness until the day I die? Or that I am perfectly content every single day of my life? Neither is true.
I am not a child, nor am I an invalid. I need not your pity, nor your condescension.
[He already had to cover this with Emet-Selch, for Halone's sake, compare notes.]
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