#hythwolweek2025

[thewitchofelpis]

HythWoL Week 2025, Day 6: Alternate Universe

The walk home.

[hyythlodaeus]

hythwolweek day 2 - creation

[hythazemet]

💜 HythWol Week 2025 - Day 3 - Etheirys 💜

"I'm… I don't want to go. Not yet." "Then we won't."

Return to Etheirys after the events of Endwalker.

💜 BONUS SCENE 1 💜

Shortly before....

💜 BONUS SCENE 2 💜

Later that day...

[thewitchofelpis]

HythWoL Week 2025, Day 2: Creation

A walk in the forest with Shadow.

[hyythlodaeus]

hythwolweek day 1 - memory

[thewitchofelpis]

For HythWoL Week 2025, Day 4: Soulseer

“And what about that lady over there? The one closest to the aetheryte.”

“...Blue,” Faith declares, scrunching up her nose as she adds, “But… dark. Not all one blue. Like it has… shadows. Or smudges.”

“Yes, I see what you mean. It might be that it has been that way all along, or it could be a sign of some… trouble having affected her aether.”

Knowing what her husband does not ask - and will never ask - their daughter if she remembers has her staring down at her knees for a moment, rather than continue to keep track of the game being played. Rather, the training being given, in the guise of a game. One that she cannot participate in herself, being without the gift that the two beside her share.

Hythlodaeus leans across the distance between them to press a kiss to her temple in a silent apology that she tries to convey is absolutely unnecessary by catching at his hand to hold on tight for the span of a breath.

It was not, after all, his fault that she damaged her soul with her foolish efforts to seek another way to keep those around her safe. And it was not Faith’s fault that her infant self would wail and scream and struggle to be free of her embrace for weeks after, unable to recognise her as her sight slipped from one vision of the world to the another without control.

“Maybe she’s sad. Her soul doesn’t look happy.”

“Well… As you know, people can’t control what colours their souls are. None of us get to choose them. And someone’s soul might look to be a dull colour, but they’re a naturally joyful person, do you see? Sometimes, you can see very strong feelings briefly affecting the intensity of colour, or lending a spark to a—”

“Like that!”

Delighted, Faith points at a young lady across the plaza, whose friend - or possibly more, given the identified reaction - reaches for her hand to hold as they set off together in the direction of the market board and its various advertisements.

Ever so gently, Hythlodaeus envelops Faith’s pointing hand with one of his own, drawing it back as he likewise draws her back and into his lap.

“Do you remember what we said about when we notice things about people’s souls?” he murmurs into her hair.

“...Don’t be loud about it?”

He laughs softly, sneaking a look at her over their daughter’s head as he yields, “More or less, yes.”

“...So I shouldn’t say how Mama’s soul goes all bright when you look at her?” Faith enquires, all pretend innocence and wondering. “Or that yours–”

In the same instant, it seems they both decide that the best way to divert Faith’s focus is to tickle her, which they make much of in an overdramatic fashion, purely for her amusement, and soon their little one is shrieking with laughter and trying to wriggle free.

In the midst of it, she lifts a hand to give a gentle tug to her husband’s braid, seeking to capture his attention so that she might bestow a chaste kiss.

And, of course, it only means that Faith howls a gleeful, “See!”

[thewitchofelpis]

For HythWoL Week 2025, Day 3: Etheirys

In the early hours of a morning still so new that it might as well be termed yet be night-time, she finds him sat at the kitchen table, a cup of tea cradled between his palms, and slips down into the chair next to his, tucking it closer so that she might rest her head against his shoulder.

“Can I help?” she murmurs, covering one of his hands with hers.

Hythlodaeus shakes his head a little and angles a tiny, weary, smile her way.

“Just a… Not a nightmare, I suppose, but a remembrance of… nothingness and… voices,” he says softly.

She presses a kiss to his shoulder and leans a touch nearer to nudge another against his cheek, her hold on his hand tightening.

“And you?” is a gentle thing - a prompt she knows he will not press at if she cannot speak of it.

Her, “I don’t remember,” is no lie. “I woke knowing only it was something discomforting. And then I knew you weren’t in bed with us, and Hades was - is, I hope - sleeping quite comfortably, so…”

“Here we are.”

He slides the cup of tea a fraction nearer to her, inviting her to take a sip, which she does.

“We have three days to ourselves next week,” she reminds him in warm tones, nosing against the line of his jaw. “What with our husband and our little ones off on their own respective adventures. I thought Tataru was going to start writing threatening letters if she didn’t get some time with Themis soon.”

“She probably has them drafted,” he says around a moment’s fond laughter.

“True. And maybe… we should think about what to do with those three days.”

“You mean I don’t get to keep you in my arms for the entire duration? That was my plan, you know.”

“Well, far be it from me to dissuade you from such ideas…”

In the easy quiet, he bumps his nose against hers, eyes bright with affection that chases away the last hints of shadows from about his features.

“What is it that you would like to do?”

“...Actually,” she says slowly, “I was wondering if there was anywhere on the star that you would like to visit. I know we don’t… often visit somewhere without purpose, or just to be there because we can. And I know there yet remain places that I have visited and you have not seen.”

For a few long moments, he is silent, then he recaptures one of her hands and lifts it to his lips to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

“Do you still like to journey? Truly?”

A question that she once, not so many years ago, might have flinched from. Might have heard some comparison, some searching for another, that was not meant.

But now…

“I like to learn. And I like to see new places. And I also like to come home.”

The latter of which being something she had never expected, nor anticipated, until a field of flowers and a decision her heart made for her.

“I think I must have… left wherever I was raised in search of something more. After that… I suppose it was more often because I… had to… than that I wanted to. I remember being present in cities and wide open spaces, but not… experiencing them.”

To survive. It was the only way to survive. Not to want. Not to be so terribly in the moment.

“Well then… Why don’t you write me a list of the places you would like to return to, and I will write you a list of locations I would like to visit, and we choose one that matches, one from my list and one from yours. Three days: three places.”

Slipping an arm around his middle, she tells him, “I like the sound of that.”

“Good.”

There is something ever so slightly mischievous about this fresh quiet that she is well accustomed to, and so she waits…

“I still intend on having you in my arms for most of that time, you know.”

“Are you going to carry me here and there, then?”

“I might just. Though I suppose I could be convinced that handholding is an acceptable compromise.”

[thewitchofelpis]

For HythWoL Week 2025, Day 7: Revelry

Her hands are trembling.

It is an absurd thing, to have stared down creatures that have been termed and called themselves gods, and not hesitated to lift a glaive to protect both friends and strangers from monsters no nightmare could ever do justice, and find herself hesitating at the door of a borrowed bedroom, staring down at the skirts of a new dress and telling herself to take one step after another.

There is surely no-one downstairs in the grand ballroom that she too is supposed to be in who will make the kind of comment she both anticipates and insists that she does not care about. No-one that Ameliance will have invited to her birthday celebration who will take one look at her and think what she is already thinking for herself.

That a beautiful dress is wasted on her. That her having made an effort with said dress suggests that she wishes to be made beautiful; a vain endeavour that betrays a futile interest in her looks when she is only a creature of elegance and grace when shedding blood - and certainly not in any high society situation.

There. She has most certainly had the thought for them, and so the words uttered by any other can be of no consequence.

She pushes the door open and makes her way down the corridor and out onto the landing, moving towards the staircase, the first sequence managed on the heels of a minor rush of adrenaline and determination, while the second…

Her feet halt of their own accord.

And, in the next moment, her gaze finds Hythlodaeus stood at the bottom of the stairs, the chamber empty save for the two of them.

He reaches a hand out towards her, and it is so much easier to hasten towards him than it is to know she is approaching a room full of those far more at ease at these sorts of celebrations than she will ever be.

With the distance between them gone, she clasps both of his hands with hers and leans as close as she dares, uttering a soft, “I feel foolish.”

“Well,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “I can promise you that you don’t look it.”

She does not tell him that he is obligated to say so, or that of course he is of a mind to say such a thing purely to reassure her and try to put her at ease.

Because, although it is second nature to believe so, she cannot believe it of him. He does not lie to her, and she has never felt the need to create falsehoods for him; has never experienced the impulse to deliberately mislead him about herself or how she feels at any given moment.

What would be the point?

He understands her all too perfectly well. Seemed to know the very heart of her the instant they first set eyes on one another.

Hythlodaeus bows his head to gently rest his forehead against hers.

“Will you be okay?”

There is no question that he would spirit her away from Sharlayan were she to suggest it was all too much.

And so she smiles just a fraction, teasing, “Is it too late to be the one to stay home with the children?”

“Oh, I believe our beloved would quite literally fight you for that honour.”

Lifting up onto her toes, she brushes a kiss against his cheek.

“Come and dance with me,” he invites, all warm and sweet affection.

It is an invitation she cannot - does not - refuse.