Ere Our Curtain Falls

Isola affiliate Emet-Selch from Final Fantasy XIV CONDO: 402 │ Rank: Dwarf Art by Nipuni

[bearerofmemories]

Emet-Selch ♊︎ Final Fantasy XIV

Behold, a sorcerer of eld! Tremble before his glory!

One of three to survive the shattering of a world (souls and all).

Was working on putting it back together. Obviously that got interrupted.

A huge theater geek. Also behaves like one.

Was a real crumb bum 12,000 years ago. Still is one, but one with *~flavor~*

Likes naps, being sarcastic, irritating people and attention.

Will gladly tell you forward and backwards about how perfect the world used to be and how imperfect and malformed you are.

Long running professional villain and “architect of myriad imperially inclined nations”.

His latest job was evil dictator of the local evil empire.

Nay, the body he’s wearing is not his own. Thank you.

Has been grieving for millennia and cannot stop.

Obligatory god of the dead kinda sorta. Every fantasy story needs one.

[bearerofmemories]

“A tic-tac-toe game on someone’s forehead? Well. I don’t know about anyone else but I, personally, am not at all surprised. Seldom do I expect better.”

[bearerofmemories]

@glitchmasterslittlepuppet​

With his slouching posture and stiff knees, Emet-Selch makes his way down the flooded street. The rain beats down on him relentlessly, and he treats it like some kind of expectation of his-that, of course the sky would just open up and dump down upon him when he is all out of teleportation magic for the day. I suppose I will add this to the list of reasons why I despise going for walks, he thinks miserably to himself, along with the sore joints and aching back of the useless mortal body he resides in, and the ceaseless lethargy he feels. If only this fit of longing to return to his shattered star did not make him so restless, he would not have been compelled to venture out in the threat of a downpour.

Just up ahead, through a curtain of raindrops, Emet-Selch barely makes out a small, familiar, bespectacled figure with tall ears. It is the one who had interrupted him from a street performance none too long ago.

The Ascian comes to a stop next to where they stand, then remarks in a tone much drier than the environment, “Courageous for one so small to be braving these ferocious elements. You’re like to drown before most out here, you know.”

[bearerofmemories]

@requiemforthefallengodsbow​

Though Emet-Selch’s back is turned away from them, with a glance, his gaze chances to snatch the tiny figure waddling past him. Through blurred soul sight he sees it: The tint of yellow to the Lalafell’s soul. Zodiak save him, they are everywhere, these Heroes, these deranged fragments of a noble soul. If Hydaelyn knows aught of this cruel fate, surely she is back in their proper dimension laughing maniacally at this wicked joke being played on him. As a matter of fact, if not for contradictory evidence, he would be hard pressed to blame her for the joke.

Though he silently bemoans his fate, Emet-Selch nevertheless believes it wise to discern the nature of this Hero as well.

He knows not yet what time they hail from, but he decides to greet them with the use of a well known saying of Solus Zos Galvus. Cupping his chin in a hand, an ill-intentioned, crooked smile cannot help but tug at the corner of his mouth before speaking up. “Tradition is the chain by which fools are bound!” He pretends to muse to himself in the proud voice of an Emperor, aloud and clearly so that their pointy little ears will catch his words without fail. ”And yet in spite of the influx of newcomers from a number of universes, the wards here remain chained to their old way of things. It is almost admirable…Almost.”

[bearerofmemories]

Starter Call

Gonna toss out another starter call capping at 3 (with canon mates being exempt, of course!) for some short lil’ posts.

ALSO-I’ve been having some pesky problems with notifications on my end-so if anyone who is expecting a response from me-give me a poke! It probably just didn’t show up. 

[lufdraws]

dagger in the dark (who will it stab) 🔪 🩸

[bearerofmemories]

ironwills​:

Emet​:

The Miqo’te gives the other a small scowl for a moment before giving the other a smirk.

  “ Oh so nice of them to make a day after you ”

Oh ha ha. It is to laugh. Emet-Selch shakes his head in disappointment, buries his face in one hand while the free one drops to his side. 

“Of course, of course that would go straight over your head. And yet here you are, living up to just the kind of fool I am describing!”

[bearerofmemories]

lightblume​:

bearerofmemories​:

“Come now. Today is about telling jokes and yet here I am, not having laughed at anything you’ve said thus far. Surely the emperor of Garlemald can manage that.”

“My dear Hero, you are correct in that I was indeed,” He is sure to put emphasis on was, “the Emperor of Garlemald. I was not the Empire’s court jester.”

Emet-Selch crosses his arms. Taps a finger. 

“Anyway my jokes are too good for you."

[newshadowdraw]

 “Avert thy eyes, to look upon a omen is to court tragedy again.” For the omen itself, is a tragedy, and being near one , even one such as himself is something worth close to dying. Margit is always one to think the worst…of himself.

@bearerofmemories​

[bearerofmemories]

A brow arches at the warning. He stops to humor it. “How very curious…” Emet-Selch says thoughtfully. “But you may have to expand on that statement, for you see, tis difficult to know if you truly mean this as a warning, or if you are merely so self-conscious about your appearance.” 

Does he have a hunch that there is more than mere dramatics behind the being’s words? Yes. Emet-Selch decides to pull it out of him.

[bearerofmemories]

whohassummonedme​:

bearerofmemories​:

Along Savior’s Respite, there were massive shards of some floating purple disk. Thinking about them, and their various scars born not of erosion, but of battle, bothered him. He didn’t want to think of it for very long. This was why he wasn’t there, and was instead found amidst the sights of the Star Trail. He couldn’t smell and he couldn’t taste, but the noise was acceptable to keep him distracted, and he had chosen to close his eyes and relax a little.

Until something is placed on his head. It is warm. His massive hand reaches up, and gently takes the container. Some kind of mushroom dish in a soup. He turns his head, and looks up. There is some kind of long man. He looks ready to take a rest, himself.

Shame, that.

Reaching up, he grabs the fellow by the back of his coat. He holds him at eye level, which now, means the fellow is a good 40 feet off the ground. “You know. you should really finish your food.”

He takes the container, and upends it onto the fellow’s head. Then he is placed back on the branch, in a certainly much less comfortable position.

Something pulls at the back of Emet-Selch’s coat as soon as he manages to get comfortable. Then he feels himself parting from the tree branch beneath him, the sensation of being pulled into the air against one’s will dizzying. 

Only when the movement has stopped does he bother, slowly, to open his heavy lids. Tired, unimpressed eyes meet two luminous slits cut into a knight’s helmet. And they are massive. 

[[“You know. you should really finish your food.”]] Says the giant, audaciously.

Oh if only he was not stripped of his power.

“Uh-” Is tragically all Emet-Selch can get out, raising a finger to mark the beginning of a question that will never come. He is promptly set back on the branch before he can even speak. And then his dignity is challenged. The food which he had preciously discarded found itself spilling onto his head, rendering him momentarily stunned--arms up, fingers frozen mid curl, cringing with his eyes closed and breath held. 

“You…!” The Ascian finally gasps and angrily swipes a sopping wet chunk of hair off of his forehead. “Just what is the meaning of this? If you wanted me to ‘finish my food’, surely you wouldn’t have made the task impossible!”

Not that he would have finished it anyway. Nevertheless, it is the principle of the thing.

[bearerofmemories]

~~ It has come to my attention that I failed to receive some notifications. I’ll be getting to those replies tomorrow. Sorry for the wait for anyone who gets an insanely delayed reply! ~~

[lightblume]

“Hm…it seems today is Emet-Selch’s nameday. How do I know? Well, I don’t. It just seems appropriate for someone so prone to making a fool of himself.”

[bearerofmemories]

“Oh I’m sorry. Is there a fly buzzing about in here or is that you speaking? Either way, both are of equal measure in terms of importance.” 

What a cheeky girl.

[ironwills]

  “ What is this……..April fools day? ”

[bearerofmemories]

“Why, haven’t you heard? It’s the time of year in which we celebrate all those who are otherwise to be disappointed in or laughed at.” Emet-Selch shrugs, gesturing specifically to the Miqo’te before him.

[bearerofmemories]

ironwills​:

Brown cat ears perk up at the sound of a very familiar voice,turning round to face the dark portal before him,one he has seen many times in the past during his adventures, instantly recognising it as a Ascian approaching him. A breath hitching in his throat as his assumptions on who the voice was,was confirmed as correct…..However the version he expected to see was not something he expected.

It was Emet Selch……But not the one he last saw in Ultima Thule. No……This was the one he encountered in the First…..The one who probably wants him dead. Matthew had no idea how long the Ascian has been here,he could have been here longer than him for all he knows! He knew how well Emet can keep too himself and only show himself when he wanted too.

Tho the Miqo’te couldn’t help the sad feeling of knowing this Emet before him wont remember his time meeting him in Elpis and then helping him in Ultima Thule. So all he could muster out at the other was an annoyed grunt as he furrows his brows.

“ It’s odd how they choose who to whisk away to this place,…..                                                                                                as well as when they whisk them ” he mutters that last part to himself,folding his arms across his chest as he fully turns to face Emet. 

Either the boy is daft, or he is indeed familiar with him, just as the other shard had been. Personally, Emet-Selch would like to go with both-but most importantly the latter, for the change in his breath suggests so much, as does the way he (so rudely) grunts out his little ponderings with such casualness.

“Aye, on that we can agree. Tis indeed odd-and whilst I can fathom why they would choose someone like me, I have to wonder why any otherworldly force would ever bother to choose some malformed chip off of a better being to take into their custody. Now, if I were in their position, I certainly would not steal away anything lesser than a whole.” The Ascian says this casually with a shrug and a crooked smile, as if it is not at all callous. 

“Still, here is the interesting thing: I have already encountered another sharing a piece of the same soul as you. Mayhap there is yet hope to make a whole of you yet….”

Emet-Selch gazes upon The Hero thoughtfully, cupping his chin in his hand. Although he is feigning sinister thoughts to do nary more than ruffle some tail fur (for what can he do, powerless as he is at the moment?), it would be a lie to say that there wasn’t some flicker of an actual idea in that perpetually scheming head of his.

“Well anyway, do tell me you haven’t been dawdling around since your arrival. Surely you’ve been at least making some attempt to escape this prison.”

[bearerofmemories]

glitchmasterslittlepuppet​:

bearerofmemories​:     

Cosmo quickly turned their head and covered their mouth with their hand. “Oh, Sorry Sir!” They quickly walk out of the way and plopped down on the bench, leaving two feet of empty space between them and the stranger. 

Cosmo didn’t really like loud noises, but the harmonious noises coming from the band performers was quite calming. This was Cosmo’s first time listening to music in another world. Cosmo turned to the man next to them and smiled as the music played. “This is nice. Do the street performers play here often?”

“Um, I beg your pardon, but I do not recall granting you permission to sit beside me?” And yet the little creature does so regardless. Alas, Emet-Selch is too tired to protest, let alone roll his eyes, thus he does no more than shoot them a sour face before redirecting his attention back to something more favorable. Namely the band. Luckily, it does not take long before The Ascian is lightly tapping a gloved finger along with the lively beat, and the beat serves as motivation to answer the bespectacled rabbit in spite of his apparent lack of fondness.

“That I could not say, seeing as I, myself, am new to the way of things here. However, if they did, I may just bother to return here on more than just an occasion.” But it is nice, isn’t it? Longingly, he listens, falling quiet for yet another moment. Then he chances to ask, figuring-well, why not? This is an entirely different world after all. Mayhap there was hope that he’d get an answer that is different from the usual let down. “Tell me, child, have you ever heard music that sounds like this ere now?”

[bearerofmemories]

@crystalremnant​

Emet-Selch fancies himself considerate in this regard: he clears his throat to announce his presence rather than startle his object of interest. Unceremoniously, however, he sits down right afterwards, sans invitation and right across from none other than The Crystal Exarch himself.

Although, is it really appropriate to refer to him as such? After all, by the looks of things, he has shed all of it: the poise of an Exarch, the garb, and, last but not least, the crystal that had once been overtaking his slight body. How curious…

“I shan’t bother to ask if this seat is taken.” He says, casually propping his chin on a hand, feigning indifference. He does flicker a sly grin, however. “I’d like to flatter myself into believing you’d allow me to be an exception, given our brief yet fascinating history together.”

And nary too long ago, you were in my custody, and I never did finish extracting valuable information from you, no matter how much I made you twist and cry in agony. That’s what he would have preferred to add. Alas, the good sense to utilize civility has the better of him, given the circumstances and all. After a brief silence, The Ascian shrugs his shoulders, as though urging a conversation to come from this. 

“So, here we are. A world away from worlds. I personally find it quite irritating, don’t you?” 

[bearerofmemories]

@hyacinthsoul​

It is not easy coming to terms with this. A vision that begets the cliche ‘pinch me, I’m dreaming’.

The man who Emet-Selch stands behind (and mercifully has yet to be noticed by) is not a shade wrought from his own magic-a mere representation of Hythlodaeus. Nay. This is Hythlodaeus, flesh and all, just as he had once been the day he waved farewell so him casually as the whole world crumbled around them. What a juxtaposition he was that terrible day. Always calm and smiling he was, even in hell.

And now here he is before him once again. Smiling.

Emet-Selch loathes how uncharacteristically unsettled he is. Throat clenched, heart racing faster than it had in centuries. He nears his old friend, then stops. Inch a little further, and stop. Finally he throws in the towel and stands still, bringing the hand that was seconds away from tapping  the man’s shoulders to his own eyes and massages them. Gather yourself and get his attention, you fool. Twould do you no good to sneak up on him in this unfamiliar body, now wouldn’t it? Furthermore, reason has it that if your soul sight is blurry, surely his is as well.

The Ascian gathers himself. Then, crossing his arms and taking in a breath, he proceeds to speak up, confident that his voice should not jar his old friend so much. He still sounds like his old self, after all.

“And just what has you looking so amused, pray tell?”

Try though he might to feign his signature exasperation, his words are weaker and more strained than intended.