childrenofbahamutlogs | EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

A CRASH IN THE NIGHT

In the dark hours of a snowy early morning, a sudden BOOM can be heard all across Town. It is swiftly followed by sounds of warping metal and then a screeching crash. Curious, albeit groggy, residents emerge only to find a smoking wreck just a mile outside of Town.

The strange craft appears to be almost nautiloid in shape with wrenched, broken tendrils streaming out the opening.

Much of it is metal although some of it almost seems... organic.

Those who with to get a closer look will be met by Charlie and Dimitri who are already on the job. They request curious onlookers keep their distance since this craft is, without a doubt, tremendously dangerous.

Later in the day, there appears to be an outfit of officials coming from the west to investigate and clean up the wreckage. Thankfully(?), you will all find out soon enough what's going on.

INVESTIGATION & PROTECTION

Deathcard Cabin by Jonah Senzel

4:07 / 13:06

▶︎

Click here to listen.

From the Inscryption OST: A unique and haunting sound paired with a unique and haunting game.

code

Charlie reports to the citizens of Town that an Illithid cargo transport. The pilot did not survive the crash, but they appeared to be transporting some kind of new breed of Intellect Devourers.

"We do not yet know what this new breed is capable of, but..."

Charlie does give everyone a rundown of what an Illithid and what an Intellect Devourer is, what they are capable of, and a keen warning to tread lightly. Many dead ones were discovered in the cargo but several of the enclosures were damaged in the crash and the likelihood of escapees is high.

Charlie reiterates: These creatures are to be killed on sight, or contained until someone can kill it. If you are not confident in your combat abilities, please remain in your homes as much as possible and seal all openings to your dwelling. Those who are capable though are urged to begin patrols of Town alongside Slayd, Dimitri and himself to ensure that Town and the surrounding areas are safe.

Please travel in pairs or groups, do not be alone! Attack from a distance when possible. Hoshiko will offer her assistance as a markswoman as well by picking off any Intellect Devourers from a distance that she can for those that are forced to travel alone. (Don't worry about any jokes she makes of her service not being cheap though. Charlie wouldn't actually let her charge you anything.)

Unfortunately, not even they can predict the blizzard that rolls through Town in the midst of all this. If you happen to see anything skittering through the snow, don't panic too much. It could just be a tiny woodland creature looking for a warm burrow to hide away in!

At least you hope it is.

PROMPT #3

Hybrid intellect devourers are unique from the regular ones in that the goal is not to kill their target, but to gather intelligence and act as a kind of spy network.

They will flee when confronted directly by greater numbers, but will attack a lone target. They do this by jumping at the target's head and wrapping a wet tendril around their neck. They will choke who they've wrapped around if anyone tries to remove it. They are also far more likely to try and attack sleeping target (hence the advice to keep your homes closed!).

These hybrids emit spores that will keep the target asleep during feeding. Their primary goal appears to be infiltrating the targets' minds and absorbing some of their memories. The target will have their mind left mostly intact... though they may suffer short term memory loss, confusion, distress, fatigue and head pain.

Here's where the fun starts!

Once one of these critters has fed on someone, they are onto their next target. When a fed Intellect Devourer feeds from another target, that target may absorb some of the previous target's memories. This can span across multiple victims and be erratic in whose memories taint whose mind. The memories will cross-pollinate in the form of dreams or waking visions and hallucinations.

If one of these creatures is killed, it will explode, releasing a powerful psionic wave and the memories it had absorbed from any recent targets. Anyone within ten (10) yards of the dying creature will be afflicted with extreme head pain in the short term and also witness the memories of it's previous victims.

Enjoy your muddled memories and leggy brain-hunting!

The outfit of people who have come to investigate are from New Svihelen's disaster containment squad and are investigating the hybrid creatures and the possible reason for an Illithid ship to crash here of all places. Right now, the running theory is that interference from the selfsame summoning circle that brought you all here could have caused the interplanar navigation systems of the ship to malfunction but nothing has been determined yet.

Eventually, these creatures will all be rounded up and taken care of. They are persistent and stealthy though in their efforts to survive above all else. Charlie assures that they're doing all they can to make Town safe once and for all but it will take some time.

Notes

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At the start, there is a flood. A rush of passing possibilities. Divergent realities, some small splits, others larger, and some, completely different worlds. Different stories.

It feels like falling through a storm until the horizon begins to stabilize. The image of sunshine and blue skies comes into focus, and Byleth is running- no, flying over the landscape below. Draconic wings carry him, but they are different from his own here, now. These were his own choice. A celebration of his Nabatean heritage of a sort. The free kind of feeling, carrying him above his grief and worries.

He lands near the entrance to the gardens. Inside, almost like a little portal to unsundered Etheirys. Waiting for him is Hades, scolding him lightly for being late. The flood of untempered adoration drowns out the scolding though as he goes to the man to take his hand. They walk, taking in the beauty of his home. This, Byleth thinks, this gift was more than worthwhile to save up for. The smile on his own face can be felt.

--

Falling again. The hands that find Dimitri in the rain, lost. Desperately seeking an answer. Byleth as no answer for him. He can only reach out his hand and take the would-be king's own. The man's anger has exhausted. Now all that is left is sadness. Confusion. Fear.

Your hands. Were they always this warm? His voice is soft and trembling as Byleth leads him back to the warmth of the monastery.

--

They walk in the garden, Byleth has questions and Hades has answers, flora and fauna, why things are the way they are. What it was like at home. Byleth eats it up. He hopes that he can feel some of that love in his hand held tightly. He wonders if Hades can sense it. If he knows. They find one of the secluded spots. A little tunnel of trees and vines, a soft patch of moss where they sit in the shade, and Byleth kisses him.

--

Again and again, he repeats. Turning back time. Every moment exhausts him more and more, but he has to get it right. If he doesn't do it perfectly, they die. If he gives a bad command, if he hesitates, if he misses something, they die. He knows the sound of every conceivable kind of death now. Each of his students and friends sound unique in each kind of pain. The worst though, is hearing one of them cry out in anguish as a loved one dies. He hates that sound. Yet here he is. He puts himself through it again and again until it's done proper. Until he doesn't hear those sounds.

--

Though Byleth is the one being penetrated today, he's hardly a passive participant. Riding Hades slow and deliberate, pinning the man's hands above his head as he rolls his hips against him. Watching those golden eyes try to stay open as he moves. They're alone here, he knows, but they still stay quiet, only the sound of low uttered words, rough breathing and soft moans. While Byleth appreciated the simulation giving him the option of a cock, he sometimes did prefer his own configuration. Hades had not questioned it, and why would he? A man born of a different body? What was there to ask?

The erstwhile professor finishes first, muffling himself against Hades' lips, speeding up his pace to demand the other man follow shortly after. Hands anchored in pale white hair, pushing and pulling, nails leaving faint read lines across his skin. Hades doesn't mind, he knows. He likes it. Praising him as he finishes at last, rocking him through it until they both lay damp and out of breath under the dappled light.

--

To escape this void, Sothis tells him she will give herself over to him. He will no longer hear her voice. There is no other option but to stay there and die, so he allows it to happen. In a rush, his dark hair becomes that unnatural pale green so token to the dragons of his world. He emerges from that void. Without his father. Without Sothis. He returns to his friends and students... but he has never been so alone.

--

He's seen his future now, in Amani. The terrifying reality. He will be immortal. He will watch all his loved ones, his husband, die. He will continue to exist outside of time, never staying too long in one place. Never forming connections. Watching the world go by without him.

This. This above all else, terrifies him to his core.

--

Hades promised him. He made a pact. Despite his own desire for rest. To stay with Byleth until he truly felt as though his life had been fulfilled. As long as it took. To keep him from that despair. When the time came, he would grant Byleth his eternal rest, and return to his own. Together.

At first Emet-Selch wonders if he has somehow slipped back within the Rift. Memories flood his mind: brief snatches of skylines and architecture he's never seen before, the blur of strangers' faces, the distant shouts of battle. It's a relief when the deluge begins to slow to a trickle, when the cacophony is replaced with the sound of wings strumming against the currents of a beautiful cloudless day. His mood, too, begins to lift - but these emotions aren't his. They belong to another, to an identity he cannot quite guess at. At least, not until the helical arches that mark the entryway to his favorite park at last come into view, one unassuming but tucked away conveniently close to the Capitol. And then an all-too familiar face, though one which he has never quite witnessed in this way before...

For it is himself, Hades, who greets them, and there is a name which follows the dutiful and wholly predictable reprimand over his guest's frustrating lack of punctuality.

Byleth.

In answer to that scolding, he can feel the warmth within his breast swell fondly.

* * *
Surely this can be nothing but a fever dream? After all, there is simply no way that he and they could stroll through these gardens together, hand-in-hand, with seemingly no care in the world and no concept of time.

Yet there is something about it all which isn't quite as strange as it should be, and he recalls a conversation, not too long past:

'To give it brutal simplicity - we were in love. Those versions of us were. I am trying to parse his feelings from my own, but it is proving difficult as I experienced those memories as if I had lived them myself.'

Back then, he had vehemently denied Byleth's claim, yet there is no denying the way that Hades slows his stride so that they can easily keep up with him, nor the comforting presence of his hand over theirs.

* * *
This scene does not go on forever, however. There are others.

He feels the care as Byleth leads Dimitri back to the monastery, offering his presence where he cannot provide immediate answers so that this would-be king will not suffer alone.

He feels the desperation and unshakeable stubbornness as Byleth uses Divine Pulse to rewind time over and over and over, heedless of the exhaustion building within his limbs and mind. There is no other option. For his students, for those he cares for, he would do this over a million times until the desired outcome comes to pass.

He feels... the loneliness. The fear. The gratitude. It's all so personal, things which are surely meant to remain private, things he never knew to ask the man about himself and certainly would not know how precisely to broach now. It's ironic, in a way. A fickle stroke of karma. Is this how Byleth felt when he absorbed the memories of the other Byleth, from back within the Amani Simulation? When he became privy to information that had not been granted him willingly?

* * *
Emet-Selch wouldn't go so far as to call it a novelty to witness such an intimate act in this way, but the experience is now his. He watches the flutter of Hades's eyelids, heavy with desire yet refusing to slide entirely closed. It isn't from a lack of trust, he knows. Hades watches him because he wants to see his reaction, wants to see every flicker and flash of pleasure and affection as Byleth makes love to him. He needn't...feel the twitch of the cock buried deep inside him nor the way Hades moves in time with the rocking of Byleth's hips to know that the man is utterly smitten, that he is relishing every moment; that they have done this before.

Byleth seems to know what he likes already, isn't the least bit timid when it comes to handling him, either, nor to demand that Hades take his own pleasure even though he has already reached his conclusion. He watches himself let go, a sloppy, spent mess beneath them, his face flushed in euphoria, a low, inelegant moan escaping him as those words of praise tickle his ears.

By Creation, how long has it been since someone last spoke to him in that way, since he even allowed someone so close, since he freely indulged in the needs of the flesh and the yearnings of his broken heart? As unlikely and impossible as it all seems... he is, perhaps, beginning to understand how these two people might have found each other. Why this Hades may have delayed his final rest.

* * *
It's all really too much to wrap his head around properly, however, especially now when it feels as if it's about the split in twain, the sharp stabbing sensation burrowing further and further into his mind, until even these lofty visions begin to run together like wet paint.

Hades doesn't know where he is, nor how long it's been, nor whether it's even been any time at all. A distressed growl escapes him, an echoing rumble as the effects of having his brain tampered with begin to breach even his high tolerance for pain. A single wet trail mars the obsidian scales of his cheek as he tries and fails to stir, the sliver of his eye little more than a vacant golden stare.

A voice rings in his head before he goes under again:

'In the face of learning that I was doomed to immortality, and my fear of losing those around me to time while the centuries wore on, you vowed to stay with me until I was satisfied, and then to grant me a gentle repose alongside you. You knew the dreadful reality of time and loneliness, and you showed me the greatest compassion.'

Who said those words? Why would be know anything at all about something so dreadful? Try as he might, he is never alone for long! Always with the teasing and inconveniences, always someone or something to deny him a few peaceful moments to himself.

Yes? ...No?
He can no longer remember at present.

Edited 2025-02-28 05:00 (UTC)

When Hades wakes again, it is to one of the small bedrooms in Byleth's home. The man just sitting down with a bowl of warm water and some rags to tend to the ligature marks and scratches the creature left. Byleth looking not terribly fantastic himself, but faring far better now that he's woke and already tended to his own hurts.

"Ah- you're awake." He keeps his voice low as the larger man stirs. Gently he offers a fresh, warm rag just wrung out.

"Here. Put this over your eyes. It will help the headache." He speaks full on from experience now. His tail curls around his feet with some trepidation as to Emet-Selch's condition. His worry worn in the muted mask of his face.

"I've some warm tea for you as well, when you can stomach it."

The natural glow of Emet-Selch's golden eyes is as sharp as ever as they slowly blink open, yet beneath his heavy, pained brow and the effects of the Intellect Devourer's feast, he appears confused and unfocused. Wrung-out. He hazards a slow, cautious glance around, but soon after tilts his head back into the pillow. His skull starts with its incessant pounding again - keen enough to elicit a low and weary groan. Sensations and stray thoughts encroach in their attempt to fill the haphazard gaps within his mind.

What's all this? Where is he? How did he come to be here?

That he's laid up in bed is all but obvious, yet he doesn't know this room nor remember anything of what led up to this point. The man leant over him, too, is unfamiliar, though the voice itself strikes a cord with him. Indeed, the voice he knows, and yet... had it not been passing from his own lips just moments before?

Moments? Days? 'Tis all a blur.

How can that be?
How could he be so careless?
Did any of it truly happen?

"The garden..." he manages in a rough whisper.

He doesn't deign move again lest he finds himself within the careless embrace of yet another wave of vertigo.

The garden? His lips twitch, but he keeps his voice even and low.

"Easy now. You were attacked, but you're all right now. Just take it slow." Byleth himself still feels in a fog, but he's always been resilient. He would likely credit his crest for that, the uncanny ability to heal rapidly and from any grave injury.

He holds a glass of water to where Emet can take it.

"Try drinking this." He won't trouble the man with any serious questions as of yet. Just focus on getting him right. His spare hand moves to rest upon the damp towel across his forehead. Just long enough to send a weak pulse of healing magic through it. With his powers dampened, it does little more than act as a mild pain reliever, but it's better than nothing.

"Attacked?"

That's right. Those creatures, the...Intellect Devourers? It's slowly starting to come back to him, though not all at once.

Emet-Selch is hardly in a position to take the glass of water without spilling it everywhere, much less avoid choking on its contents in his present horizontal orientation, but he does at least tolerate the warm cloth pressed to his forehead and the gentle flow of what must be some manner of healing magicks. The thundering within his skull subsides faintly - enough that he can hear himself properly think, but little else, really.

Under normal circumstances he'd be huffing and puffing for being spoken to in such an embarrassing manner, as if he is some fragile, wounded animal in need of soothing. But for the moment, at least, he lacks the energy or the will to do anything about it, and thus it mostly serves its purpose in keeping him from doing anything reckless - like trying to rise to his feet too quickly.

"If that's the case, then why am I here. And who exactly are you meant to be?"

There's a name on the tip of his tongue. Yes, he heard the other man (himself?) in the vision speaking it, and before that... He was out in the snow. Looking for someone...

He scowls in frustration, an act which does little to alleviate his current ailment.

"And don't bother lying to me about it."

The question visibly surprises Byleth. His eyes widen and he looks at Emet-Selch a moment before coming to his conclusions.

He must be confused after his unwelcomed nap.

He'll proceed with an honest caution here.

"Byleth. Byleth Eisner. I believe you came looking for me after I failed to answer your call. You were ambushed likely by the same creatures that attacked myself as well." He clears his throat, trying to cover all the bases.

"After I finally came-to and recovered myself, I brought you up to the guest bedroom to afford you some comfort and tended to your wounds." Well, there isn't really much to lie about, but for what it's worth, he is completely transparent about the preceding events.

"And why would you do that?"

Emet-Selch stares at him for a long moment, as if trying to gauge whether or not the man before him might be lying. Unfortunately (and thanks to his present state) what is meant to be intimidating probably looks more exhausted than anything. Pitiful, really.

Byleth Eisner.
Yes, that name sounds correct, but wasn't he...?

...or was he not actually experiencing those events, but instead seeing them through the eyes of another?

Yes, it must've been those annoying little fiends. Charlie had warned that they possessed psionic powers, but for them to pack even more potency in their wrinkled brains and spindly little limbs than that of his own Gift... Ugh. A right fool he was for wandering out into the blizzard alone! No good deed unpunished. And now...

Emet-Selch shakes his head finally - and with care, looking no more pleased than he did before.

"...nevermind. What matters is that the rest of those Intellect Devourers be destroyed as soon as possible lest the knowledge they have gained continue to spread."

"Why-" Byleth's worried frown spreads a millimeter more. "Because I care for you?" he suspects that's probably not the answer he was looking for. He's still obviously confused.

"Easy. You shouldn't be doing anything right yet." He still looks liable to fall over at a stiff breeze, and Byleth is still feeling it hours later. "The ones that were located were dealt with already." He isn't sure if any escaped given the circumstances, but it would be impossible to tell even if they found more, which ones held those memories.

He wants to ask what he saw, but he will give him at least a few more minutes to father his faculties before even thinking about questions.

Confused indeed. Emet-Selch looks at Byleth as if he doesn't quite believe him - as if this is surely some clever one-liner meant to unbalance him before the flash of a knife at his throat. But no... even that look shifts uncertainly, as if he could possibly believe him, but is hesitant to admit as much. After all, though he cannot explain why that would be save for the visions still tickling the edge of his consciousness - he feels safe with this man. Comfortable - were he not so decidedly uncomfortable due to circumstance. In the end he indignantly reaches up to hold the warm cloth to his own forehead - pride taking over where memory yet struggles to make sense of the loose threads desperately attempting to weave themselves back into their proper places.

"I don't recall saying that I would be the one to do it." Emet-Selch's stare is meant to be reproachful, but more closely resembles an old cat squinting in the sun. "Only that it must needs be done. Obviously I would be little help at the present moment."

Between his own disorientation, the pounding in his skull... he'd only get lost out there if he didn't keel over first. Disgraceful. Not to mention a liability for everyone else - which is something he can be sure he would never allow. No, he will remain as he is, even if the idea of being fussed over by the person he was in his recent not-quite-memories irritates him somehow.

Byleth gives him the grace of not commenting or refuting him all too much right now. He has confidence that Emet will eventually gather his wits back. Right now, the best he can do is offer the comfort and stability to facilitate that faster.

"Well, rest assured it is seen to." Byleth assures him, affording him his personal space for now.

"What is the last thing you recall doing?" Perhaps it will help jog his memory? Or confuse him further, Byleth isn't sure, but he's willing to try. His tone is even and calm as ever. He's careful with his words, knowing how prickly the man can be on a good day. When he's confused and in pain, he doubts for the length of Emet's patience.

Which is just as well. It's bad enough that he's aware of his uselessness in the moment without another standing by and agreeing with him. Emet-Selch closes his eyes, as if it'll will away the ache. When he scowls this time, it somehow seems more real than the others he uses more generously on the day-to-day.

"Depends," he replies tersely. "Was this before or after the Intellect Devourers ambushed me in the middle of a blizzard? Going outside was obviously a mistake. Colder than a ticket taker's smile at the Imperial Theatre on an Earthsday night."

Well at least he appears to know what happened to some juncture.

"After, if you please." He probably doesn't please, but perhaps at least they can sort through the gist of things and get his head on right. He doesn't enjoy to see the man in discomfort or pain, and there's a deeper part of him that is rightly bothered by it. So much so that his own muzzle creases down into a near-matching frown.

The placid surface of his lake rippling slightly with the stronger emotion that dared bring out something more than a neutral affect.

He doesn't please at all. Just gathering the words and images slowly dripping into his mind like the slow-forming of stalagmites puddling up from a cavern floor into something coherent and meaningful takes far too much energy. A swell of dizziness and the sensation of falling overtake him, even though such a thing - logically - is utterly impossible given he can feel the shape of the pillows and mattress pressing into his back.

No, he wasn't falling at all. He was...

"Flying."

Which doesn't sound correct given his own struggles to master the wings this world has bestowed upon him, but he knows it to be right. His eyes blink halfway open as he tries to focus on the nature of that flight, the sun-touched world whisking by below him, the joy of it, the swell of eager anticipation.

"Somewhere unfamiliar, on wings that were not mine. Yet I knew it. I was going to meet someone. In the garden."

The memory comes immediately rushing to the surface. Just with the little he's given. The garden. He feels his stomach drop. It's clear the way his gaze is drawn away from Emet and seems to almost drift off somewhere unreachable.

"I see." That's all he can manage at the moment.

"Well. Perhaps the image will become more clear with time." A part of him hopes not. At one point he would have liked to show him this. The affection. The love. Now though, there is a piece that fears the risk. He has rarely feared rejection. Only elsewise from Dimitri, and that is... a whole other can of worms.

He shakes himself of it though, and goes back to his self-appointed duty of looking after Emet.

Emet-Selch glances in the man's direction, one eye following his movements and noting his apparent distraction. And then he sighs, reaching the other arm out from beneath the covers and snapping for the cup of water to teleport itself into his waiting hand. He still feels sluggish and unsteady, his mind murky like a pond following a flood. But a pond can be crossed, provided one has a boat. Or skirted. Or one can simply fly over it.

"On the contrary, I would say the image is plenty clear already, though I can't say I much enjoyed the view of...me."

He takes a long, cautious sip. Not because he's suspicious - not anymore - but simply because it won't do to overexert himself.

"I remember things, they're just frustratingly out of context. Slow. Jumping all over the place, with no regard for the natural flow of time. And, I assume, a good portion of these visions are not mine at all - but yours, given I was speaking with your voice. That boy, Dimitri, was there, too. Although he had obviously grown into a man by then. Looked like he'd seen a ghost, or perhaps something far worse."

Gradually do the pieces begin to click satisfyingly into place. Emet-Selch gives no indication that he's rejecting any of it, really. If anything, he seems entirely neutral about the whole affair. Or maybe he's simply too exhausted to be outraged. But when he glances at Byleth this time, there is recognition, at least.

"Lucky for you, I am disinclined to gossip."

Edited 2025-04-25 18:23 (UTC)

Ah. Byleth visibly wilts. Even though he doesn't immediately reject it, there is a distinctly terrible feeling about-

About being known. He could imagine that Emet might tell him that's how he felt when Byleth had initially divulged all those memories. Just desserts, Byleth decides. It doesn't make him feel any better about it.

"Yes... please do not tell Dimitri of it. I do nit know what this timeline may bring for him, and I don't want to influence him either way. He has and will go through great hardship. I cannot even begin to quantify." He glances away, looking at the door for a moment, thinking of the currently younger charge of his.

"Thank you, for your discretion. I will answer any questions you may have but- otherwise I am satisfied to drop the matter if you are." He sounds stiffer than usual. A hand folded into his tunic clearly grasping, and he does not make eye-contact. It's an odd feeling. Shame. Not something he used to feel much at all.

Satisfied? That earns a mild huff from him.

Just desserts, indeed. Emet-Selch's gaze sharpens wordlessly, and he does not miss the way Byleth's demeanor shifts to something more...defensive and closed off. Well. He's too wrung-out to feel resentful or petty. And honestly, even if he weren't he would not say that he faults Byleth specifically in any of this. Rather, it seems, the tables have been reversed, and now he is the one in possession of information he was never meant to have. Not the best feeling, as he well knows. And even less so for his caretaker no doubt.

Emet-Selch closes his eyes again in an effort to make some determination beneath the persistent ache in his skull.

"I will leave young Dimitri out of this," he says, and it sounds like a promise. "However, I would be lying if I said I didn't have questions. Mostly concerned with your world, and that ability of yours."

"As to the rest, I don't believe I require any further explanation." After all, that wasn't them, even if it felt far too intimate not to be.

"...Nor do I have any intention of interrogating you at this very moment. Thus, you may lower your hackles and take your rest." He sets the glass aside, and with a grunt he moves to sit up properly, unwilling to allow himself to remain vulnerable for even a second longer.

That does settle him, to hear that Dimitri will remain unbothered by the hard truths awaiting him. Byleth isn't sure if it's the right thing to do, maybe he should warn him? It doesn't feel good, though. Hard things rarely do.

The mention of his world, and-

Ah.

"You saw it then? Divine Pulse?" He rubs at the base of his neck, a nervous fidget, though barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't keen to examine and dissect the man. "Yes, I will be glad to tell you of whatever you wish to know. I am an open book to you."

In more ways than he would care to admit. Still, he holds up his hands as Emet attempts to rise.

"Easy! You can rest here a while longer. I can leave you alone if you want. It's senseless to push yourself."

"Is that what you call it?" That time-reversing ability of Byleth's that allows him to seemingly alter fate, to snatch those close to him back from the brink of death. It makes sense, now. What Byleth had said to him when they first met: 'Oh, well. I guess you could say I've gotten quite good at cheating death.'

But that is, perhaps, a discussion for another time. One in which they are both far less on edge. Emet-Selch casts the other man a mildly challenging look, but for a mercy, he doesn't seem any more annoyed than is typical. He also doesn't cease his efforts to rise - though he takes it slowly, in increments.

"I am perfectly capable of determining what I can and cannot do, Byleth. Your concern is...precious, really, but entirely unnecessary. Need I remind you that I am not one of your students?"

However... there is one problem, one which has made itself glaringly obvious in the fit and stretch of the bedclothes he's currently wearing. They, like this room, are unfamiliar to him. And, further, they were decidedly made for someone of reduced stature compared to himself.

Well.

Without preamble, the Ancient draws the hem of the sheet around himself like a shroud, his gaze turning slightly more accusatory.

"Now. My robes and mask, if you please."

Look. You cannot expect him to go about wearing clothing that is much too small for him. While, yes, he could simply adjust his borrowed trappings to suit his needs, it's a matter of propriety. He is not going to budge until the mark of his seat is returned to him.

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EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

cw: NSFW and a whole lot of death [ mood music: https://youtu.be/8wo9BKChNGY?si=YnLPeJl9NnfC8Edh ]

nsfw;

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Emet will be feeling that 2 for awhile yet.

womp womp

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Brain muddle wears off in 3 more turns.

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2.

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1...

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