recreator: (♇ | When the silence isn't quiet)
Emετ-Sεlch ([personal profile] recreator) wrote in [community profile] childrenofbahamutlogs2024-12-02 09:34 pm

[Mostly Closed] How much are you prepared to bet on it?

WHO: Byleth and Emet-Selch
WHAT: Following a challenge made in haste on the town "mingle", Emet-Selch now has a score to settle. He has been granted one month in which to prove he's capable of making someone crack a smile or laugh. Unfortunately for him, that someone is Byleth.
WHERE: In Town
WHEN: December (All Month)
WARNINGS: None anticipated, but will update as required.


Emet-Selch had been overconfident in thinking his little "bet" would be swiftly put to rest.

Causing Elidibus or Hythlodaeus to smile would have been a simple feat indeed. Even now all it would require is a well-timed punchline to have his dearest friend in absolute stitches. However, things hadn't proceeded quite according to plan, and he's left to scoff at the terms he's agreed to.

'Well, it could be far worse,' he reasons as he feeds another branch into the makeshift fire pit at the border of his yard. Flames crackle tentatively from the center of a ring of stones, agreeable yet not fully established. A few scorch marks smudged across the bare earth indicate previous failed attempts that he will later insist he knows nothing at all about.

Emet-Selch draws his coat around himself as he waits, scowling at the few snowflakes that dare to fall around him. They don't have an appointment, no, yet he has seen Byleth visiting with Elidibus often enough in recent days that he imagines the man will be taking his leave of him at some point this morning to visit his other acquaintances, or else to gather more ingredients for his cooking. Better to intercept him sooner rather than later, lest this ordeal drag on for the entire month.

Surely he can find some way to encourage Byleth to smile before then? After all, at least he's seen glimpses of moments in which Byleth has shown deeper emotion beyond his usual stoic mien, even if, more often than not, whatever the man is feeling or thinking sits just beneath a calm outer surface. Like a lake made of glass.

Byleth is also a tactician, or so he claims. He'll surely expect him to make a decisive move from the outset, and no doubt tamp down on his emotions even further. Emet-Selch has a few ideas, but one thing is for certain: however he chooses to go about this, he must take a genuine approach. Byleth is far too observant to be fooled by false motives.

"Would that this matter could have waited until spring," he grumbles to himself, lifting his head as he catches a glimpse of movement upon the neighboring doorstep. He rises slowly, the two long horns protruding from his brow and the unearthly glow of his eyes more than apparent against the otherwise gray backdrop.

Puffing out a cloud of steam, Emet-Selch lifts a hand and beckons with a half-hearted "come hither" motion. Do spare him a merry chase. It's still far too early for that.

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