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

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[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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Byleth closes the door carefully behind him. Having bid Themis goodbye for now, he's more than like to set off toward Obsidian's abode. He has been avoiding his own home lately, finding the emptiness and solitude to grate on him more than usual.

Now a long tail tipped with dark feathers arches up behind him, draped in the back end of his cloak. It sways and bobs with every step he takes. He seems to be taking to the changes well. Almost as though he's done this before. As he turns, more of those changes are visible. A smooth mane of feathers covers his whole neck, long, soft looking ears sweep back and his own horns protrude from mint hair.

He spots Emet immediately. It's hard to miss him. Byleth has cast plenty of longing glances toward the building, and the crackling of the fire catches his attention besides. He stops in clear surprise as the man beckons him. Aforementioned neck feathers bristle out like a pinecone, and those ears swivel up and forward. After his moment of shock, he takes the few quick strides it takes to skitter across the way toward him.

Half of him is expecting to be scolded, but he also remembers well their little bet. His tail sways faster behind him in anticipation as he looks up to Emet.

"You summoned?"

Well at least he's easier to read like this. Though Emet-Selch has noted, of course, that the man's face has scarcely changed despite the pricking of his ears and the steady swaying of his tail.

Emet-Selch doesn't seem particularly perturbed as he tosses the last of the branches he's gathered into the fire. After all, the professor has always been a bit of anomaly as far as personalities go. Now he is much the same, just a little...fluffier.

Much of Emet-Selch's own scale growth remains hidden by his robes, and those that peek above his collar blend in well with the dark fabric. More telling, perhaps, are the flashes of gold scales at his wrists when he crosses his arms - that and the obvious progression of a beard along his jawline and chin.

"I did." He sounds a little stern, though there's no scolding to be had, nor anything that indicates he's even slightly upset. It's a major departure from their "talk" a month ago.

"If memory serves, we've a score to settle. And given your terms, the resolution of our little bet requires your participation as well."

Ahh, so that's what it's about. It seems Emet-Selch is truly determined to actually win their little wager. How interesting. There's a part of him that feels hopeful, but he's quick to quash that feeling. The other Byleth's memories and feelings are hard to keep at bay, even now. He is determined to know this man. This version. He is clearly different from the one he knew in many subtle ways, noticeable nonetheless.

He shuffles a bit closer to the roaring fire, glad to absorb the heat in this weather.

"That's fair. I'm more than happy to do whatever you wish in your endeavor to win." He won't be bothered if the man does succeed. He bakes anyways, and it would be hard to get him to smile on a good day, much less the state he's been in since the festival.

"What would you have me do?"

Well, he is determined to win.

Though it's interesting. The accusation didn't sting in the same way some of the others did, yet he's made up his mind to clear any doubts all the same. Why is that, he wonders? He's not entirely sure himself.

"Well aren't you cooperative?" he says with a shrug. "You needn't do anything particular, however. You probably think I've some sort of elaborate plan in mind, however I do not see that leading to my success. In the same way, know that I do not intend to use anything that you may have learned or felt about the Amani Simulation against you. We are both our own people, after all."

And if there's a little extra emphasis upon that last sentence, well. Forgive him. He's still processing some of the implications, even if that Emet-Selch is someone else entirely.

"That being said, there was one thing you said which reminded me of our first meeting here. You mentioned that the other Byleth had a keen interest in the culture of the Ancients. Does that extend to yourself as well?"

Edited 2024-12-03 20:43 (UTC)

"We are." Byleth is quick to affirm. He's inching closer and closer to that fire all the while. He had never much cared for the cold, especially when ice was involved. Dimitri and the Blue Lions once tried to teach him how to ice skate and that went... badly. Like a cat on a slick surface.

His attention is drawn though, as Emet mentions Ancient culture. Does that extend to himself? He knows a great deal now, due to Amani, but... he holds that question in his mind for a moment. He had been exceedingly curious about Emet from the beginning, even here. Before everything. Fascinated by the Amaurotines he had met.

"It does, yes." He answers finally, confident in his assessment now.

Emet-Selch doesn't seem to be bothered as Byleth shuffles closer to the fire. After all, it's uncomfortably cold out. Not Ilsabard levels of frigid misery, no, but still "Freezing" by his standards. The only reason he's not shivering out of his own skin is likely due to the dragon's warmth acting as a buffer against such things. He assumes this is the same mechanism that allows him to breathe out smoke and fire (and accidentally burn his morning coffee).

"Then why don't we begin with that?" There's a hint of dismissiveness to his words, as if it's only an arbitrary suggestion and Emet-Selch doesn't particularly care one way or another if Byleth accepts or rejects his attempt to extend the proverbial olive branch.

"I can teach you more about our history, and in exchange I suppose you can school me in the appropriate method of ice fishing or...whatever it is that you do."

This isn't entirely part of the bet, mind. He would have made the offer anyway. After all, his heritage is one of the few things he can say he enjoys fielding questions about, and Byleth always has been a particularly good listener.

(And it certainly beats staring at one another to see who will crack first.)

Edited (sorry for all the edits. brain goes brrr.) 2024-12-04 14:48 (UTC)

Ah.

Well, Byleth does make a face. It's a genuine reaction, but not the smile or laugh that Emet-Selch was hoping for. Byleth's eyes widen, and he looks like he actually would be closer to crying than smiling. Though that is far from happening as well. Still, it's something, and it's quite clear that it does mean a great deal to Byleth.

He will try not to get his hopes up. Still, there is new-old ache in his chest. Could his heart beat, he imagines it would jump from his chest.

There is one thing that betrays his emotions though. The damned tail. It starts with a slow sway back and fourth, gradually picking up speed until it's practically wagging. He either doesn't notice or chooses not to acknowledge it.

"Truly? You... would do that?" He forgets himself, though. "Thank you, Emet-Selch. That would mean a great deal to me."

Emet-Selch notices, however. Difficult not to when the motion reminds him of the way Grani used to get all twitchy and excited when presented with one of his favorite treats. (Well, inasmuch as Grani ever got excited about anything.) It's endearing in its way, if somewhat embarrassing, too. He isn't certain why but- oh, nevermind. This isn't at all the reaction he was aiming for, and if Byleth keeps looking at him like that, he might well revoke the offer altogether.

"Yes, truly." Emet-Selch sounds impatient now. He's not in the habit of being questioned when he says he will do something. "Not that you've any shortage of people who could instruct you on such things, but with the additional perspective perhaps you will gain a more complete understanding of our ways."

Don't make this such a big deal, Byleth. Really, it's nothing. Nothing at all.

Edited 2024-12-10 15:57 (UTC)

"Yes, every individual values different things. I find it fascinating how much you can learn by simply talking to someone about what they are passionate about." Fortunately the tail slows to a gentle sway, and he rubs his hands together, breathing a puff of warm air into them.

"Thank you, though. I am eager to know of anything you are willing to share with me." He pauses, and then adds to the statement. "I'll bring some snacks for us to enjoy during such sessions. Please consider what you might enjoy."

It's apparent that food is very much a love language for Byleth. Sharing meals with his students and cooking together always brought new insights and fond memories. Truth be told, he still feels bereft without them. His little flock, tight-knit and strongly bonded. The sense of belonging and simply being needed helped Byleth weather the most difficult times in his life. The Blue Lions turned out to be far more than simply students- but family.

"The best and the worst of them, or so I would imagine," he says by way of agreement. As for what and how much he's willing to share... well, they can at least start with the basics of Amaurotine social structure and tradition and see where this first session goes to. He has a hunch that they'll wind up down one rabbit hole or another, discussing specifics of some niche topic, but then, perhaps he's wrong.

However, there is one other matter which needs be settled. Emet-Selch chooses a blunt approach as he watches Byleth coax feeling back into his hands.

"And here I thought you enjoyed standing out on the lawn in the freezing cold. You do realize you would be invited inside, do you not? That is, if you would remain longer than the trace seconds it takes for you to sneak gift baskets upon our doorstep and make your leave again."

"I'm certain whatever you choose to bring will be more than acceptable - though it seems a little counterproductive, too."

If the snacks are any good (which he assumes they will be, so long as mud and dirt aren't key ingredients), he might wind up forgetting all about the fruit pastry.

"Oh, I-" Byleth honestly hadn't considered coming inside. The gesture isn't lost on him at all, and he appreciates it. The mention of his not-so-subtle gifts however, do bring about another readable emotion to his face. He ducks his head as he feels his ears heat up with embarrassment, and it soon spreads to a deeper blush.

"Ah... yes. Of course. Thank you." He really is a terrible liar and even worse at hiding things. He stares into the snow before Emet gracefully offers a change of subject.

"Counterproductive? How so do you mean exactly?" He still can't quite meet his gaze just yet after being reminded of his... less than elegant attempts to apologize.

Such a strange man. His ability for deception? Utterly abysmal. Which suits Emet-Selch just fine, honestly. He has no use for people who are overly secretive, nor does he have patience for liars.

Regrettably, however, Emet-Selch isn't letting him off the hook quite so easily...

"Come now, you didn't truly believe I wouldn't figure it out? Had you wanted to keep me in suspense, I imagine you'd have used a far different method. The moment I noticed the blueberries, 'twas obvious you had something to do with it. Not that I can think of anyone else who would believe he has reason to leave offerings in front of mine abode."

He opens his mouth to say more, but ultimately decides against it. Allowing a frustrated sigh to speak for him. While there's much he could add, he didn't beckon Byleth over just to give him a lecture. And it would seem that his efforts are something of a tender subject as it is.

"And it is counterproductive in that if you continue bringing me 'snacks' for one reason or another, what use will I have for the entire batch of pastries I'm meant to gain when I win?"

"I thought I was being sneaky..." He really did, apparently believe that nobody would figure it out. He huffs, tail flicking with annoyance, "I knew I shouldn't have included the damned blueberries..." As if that was the only deciding factor.

"Well. They would just be a bonus. I like cooking and baking, and it gives me something to do besides train." It's cold, and he can only spend so much time swinging a sword around by himself.

"You see, if I keep my mind and body busy at all times, things are just easier to deal with." And he won't fall into the pit of getting lost in his own thoughts. Still muddling through getting things organized in his own head is tiring on the best of days.

"Not sneaky enough. So, what, you'd have preferred it if neither of us ever realized from whence they came? Just shrugged it off and assumed this must be the work of the fae, or some other cheerful samaritan intent on keeping the populace fed throughout the winter?"

Yet though his questions are somewhat probing, in an effort to pry an honest answer from him, Emet-Selch is also listening. Hearing it from Byleth himself, Emet-Selch is reminded of what the others have already shared regarding the situation. Perhaps Elidibus had put it best when he said the professor's mind must have been thrust into a cacophony of chaos and confusion: 'I believe much of his distress is to now be in possession of private details of our histories - ones that have not been given to him personally.'

To be so intent on keeping busy, the man must still be struggling beneath the weight of it.

Emet-Selch crosses his arms, his expression growing a little less severe.

"I believe I see how it is. These acts are as much for you as they are for others, are they not? So that you can continue cooking, and baking, and turning your efforts towards things which aren't quite so...messy. Problem is, these 'things' have a way of catching up eventually, whether you will it or no."

He won't pretend to understand all that Byleth is going through, but it isn't as if he's entirely new to the concept of one's mind being flooded with memories not their own.

"Sounds like you'll be needing more hobbies."

"Perhaps. I admit I hadn't thought that deeply about it."

Emet-Selch is perceptive as ever though, and Byleth knows he can't truly get much past him. The observation is pointed enough to make his ears flatten. He's right. Byleth does gain fulfillment through helping others, but now there is another layer of keeping himself distracted.

"I know." He relents at last, again his tails and ears betray his true emotion behind the flat affect. "I have been trying to handle it... a little bit at a time. When I can manage. Angeal, Themis and Obsidian have been a great help with this. I think it would be far worse had I no one to corroborate my experiences. At least I know that I'm not properly mad." Though some days, it does feel like that still. "It's all still very fresh, so hope eventually I will be able to parse more and more of it as I... adjust to this reality." He knows running forever simply isn't an option. Though it is tempting, he's seen how that turns out.

"Yes... I have been fishing, baking, cooking, practicing my needlework, training my swordplay. I admit I miss teaching." Not that he had been a teacher for a while yet, but his archbishop duties kept him far too busy to even think of it. "I wonder if anyone might appreciate a school..."

"Which is all well and good - if you hadn't thought very much about it. I was beginning to wonder if you might be harboring feelings of guilt or pity or some other misguided notion," he continues with a vague wave of his hand. "That you aren't saves you an earful and me a long-winded lecture."

He pauses to add another log onto the fire, affording Byleth a modicum of courtesy, though the way his ears fairly wilt doesn't escape his eyes either.

"Whether the memories are yours or not, the knowing won't be easy. Doubly so in this case when you are surrounded by people who closely resemble those from your visions. I've seen its like before. Some embrace it, whilst others are forever disturbed by the discovery. That you've companions to help you through the process, and that you possess the common sense to pace yourself, will work in your favor."

A glance in the other man's direction; inscrutible.

"Though I'm also beginning to think you and Themis would be remarkable rivals. I wonder which of you completes more tasks within a given day? It's as if the concept of a vacation is a mystery to you both."

"That said, I don't see why it would go unappreciated. From what I've heard and seen, there are plenty of individuals here with a curiosity about one field or another. Doubtless there are just as many who would be thrilled to instruct others in those very same subjects."

He would posit there is some guilt there, but he also wants to save himself a lecture so he'll keep that to himself.

"Thank you." It is said ambiguously. For throwing another log on the fire? For caring enough to threaten a lecture to begin with? Both, probably. The empathy, too.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you care about me." He teases, a lilt entering his voice to diffuse his own uncertainty. The comment about Themis almost earns the man a smile, but an amused huff will have to do.

"In that other life, we went to spar quite often. Perhaps when it warms up, I'll resume that routine." This said in complete earnest. "Vacations are fine but... well I suppose I just prefer having things to do. I don't like to just sit and ruminate after all."

"Hmm. Something to consider. It would certainly fill my time nicely. I bet you would make a good teacher as well." This is something he already has a feeling about. Emet is a good teacher from what he knows, albeit... difficult to please.

"Oh? Making rather bold assumptions now, are we?" he intones, eyes narrowed. Within the question there is a clear warning. It is perhaps a little too soon to be teasing Emet-Selch about such things when he has yet to decide how he feels about all of this himself. Though if Byleth wishes to put his hand in the lion's maw, the location should now be obvious.

Scowling, Emet-Selch crosses his arms over his chest, staring into the fire.

"I am not without empathy, if that is what you mean. In the same way a reader feels for a character on a page. I was once a bestower of memories, you see. A process which was far from enjoyable at the best of times and excruciating to behold at the worst of them. However it may seem to you, you and I are little more than acquaintances. Do not mistake common courtesy for favor."

But though his mien is stern, mayhap Byleth already knows better. Perhaps his newfound knowledge has shown him that Emet-Selch is a much kinder man than he would prefer to be portayed as. Even so, 'tis clear he has no intention of revealing so much vulnerability. Not without a fight, at least.

And just like that, the topic shifts back to Elidibus. "I expect he would indulge you. He always was one who enjoyed testing his mettle against those he admires."

His brow remains slightly furrowed, but at least he doesn't seem truly angry. "And as for my teaching qualifications, I've no doubt you'll be changing your tune within a month or two. Provided you last that long."

Of course Emet-Selch has the capacity to be a good teacher - for the right kind of student. His standards are quite high, though, and thus... he can count the number of individuals he has personally taught on one hand (give or take a few fingers).

The tail does lower a bit. They are not to the friendly teasing phase yet, and he need not rush it, if they ever even get there.

"Of course." Byleth allows himself to be drawn elsewhere by the conversation. He won't push his luck again today. He can tell he isn't in any real trouble, and he wants to keep it that way.

"He would, yes. Never have I met a more enjoyable opponent to cross blades with. Not only is he endlessly skilled, but the joy he takes in it is refreshing." He's hard pressed to find someone who doesn't treat training or swordplay like a grim ordeal.

"Please. Give me some credit, won't you? I am confident in my ability to be an attentive and productive pupil. That aside, I know all the teaching pet-peeves to avoid now." And does he ever. The Blue Lions certainly didn't make his job easier, and that's not even counting those who joined his class later. "I can take whatever you throw at me."

Honestly, he's sincere in that. He can't imagine anything that compares to the many trials of his life coming in the form of a class.

"Yes, that sounds exactly like him." And Emet-Selch of all people would know. Well, it sounds like him when he isn't in the midst of his duties to be more precise. Or tickling the ivories, as it were.

But someone here sounds resolute. A commendable trait - in a pupil.

"Then you won't mind it if we start with an exam," he says, raising his eyebrows in obvious challenge. "You'll have until then to prepare, of course, and you may ask the others whatever you wish to in the meantime. The evaluation itself will be closed book, however."

Which may sound harsh, but it's actually more of a point of reference. No reason to bore the man with fast facts he already knows. 'Twill make it more interesting for himself as well.

"Though fortunately for you, I wasn't planning to 'throw' anything. I intend to instruct you in our culture, not magical combat."

He makes a rolling gesture with his wrist.

"Also. I am giving you some credit. Elsewise I would not be here."

Ahh, Byleth is familiar with the competency level test. He has no qualms there, understanding the purpose of it innately. He's done it himself in his own teaching, after all.

"Of course. I shall endeavor to assure mt knowledge is refreshed." He doesn't care to impress much in this regard. More important, it is imperative that he does give a realistic cross-section of his learning level. The effectiveness of the proceeding lessons depend on honesty. Not that he's ever really been one for useless peacocking.

Still, he would be lying if he said there wasn't just the slightest hint of desire to be praised for his ability.

"Well, if you ever desire to spar, I am happy to do that as well. But yes, let us focus on the task at hand first." As curious as he is to behold a sorcerer of eld and all.

"That is true. You are not- you do not strike me as one to prevaricate about the bush."

Emet-Selch rolls his eyes at the slip, fixing Byleth with an exasperated expression.

"Yes, well, I would encourage you to discard any preconceived notions about what I am and what I am not lest you continue to operate under false assumptions."

Not that all of what the professor had blurted out to him was a lie. In fact, the overwhelming majority of it had been factual, much of it so intimate and personal that it would not have come up in casual conversation. But neither does Emet-Selch seem particularly eager to confirm or deny this information without due cause.

"I'll allow you a week. That should be a more than reasonable span of time, wouldn't you agree? And while I find it difficult to imagine that any of you lot could keep Themis on his toes for long, if he took the time to spar with you often, then he must consider you a worthy opponent."

Look, even Emet-Selch may fall into the trap of preconceived notions. But on the bright side, if someone were to challenge him and actually make him break a sweat, he'd be more than amenable to taking them on as a sparring partner.

Emet-Selch has said all that he intended when he flagged Byleth over, and yet... he is still uncertain how to go about making this man crack (a smile) in a way that will satisfy his own ego.

"Well, unless you've anything else you wish to say to me, I suggest you go and warm yourself and then hop to it."

"Of course. That much was rather self-evident though." Emet rarely minces words.

"That is entirely fair. More than enough time for me to brush up." He agrees, but snorts softly at the comment about keeping up with Themis. He's right, but Byleth won't give him that quite yet. "You could test me yourself if you pleased."

It's an invitation and a challenge all at once.

"I will do just that. Rest assured you will find me well prepared." He seems completely confident in that much. There is much to be said, but none of it in the here or now. No, instead he gives Emet a polite farewell and turns to stride off toward his home. Rather- Obsidian's home, inevitably.

And yet he gets the distinct impression that this is going to be a process. Realistically, he knows one cannot simply unremember something they've so recently gained, yet Emet-Selch is who he is, and if he chooses to remain slightly offended by it all, then that's within his right as well.

Still, the comment has Emet-Selch regarding him a little more sharply - in a manner that brings to mind a feline sizing up a mouse. Does he appear annoyed? Not really. Amused, maybe.

"I could," he confirms with an air of unshakeable self-assurance, yet ultimately allows the invitation (and challenge) to remain hanging there between them like unpicked fruit. Little does Byleth know (or perhaps he already does), but there will be plenty of testing taking place. Emet-Selch has never been one to let his own questions remain unanswered. And neither is he one to truly reveal his hand to another without making his own judgments as to their worth and worthiness.

"Prepare away, then. In the meantime I'll try and look forward to our next encounter."

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

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