"You have reached Solus zos Galvus. I fear I am unavailable at the moment, but should your query be of an urgent nature, pray leave a message. I shall endeavor to return it anon."
Hades' misunderstanding jumps out at Dirk and practically slaps him across the face with the realisation of how much explanation this really demands. It's not that he was unaware; more that the timing only now strikes him as especially choice, in either a good way or a bad one.
A more empathetic person, a more human one, might have some sense of which it is. Humanity is, at its very core, a relationship to other humans. Its absence rarely bothers him any more, insensate as he is, but he knows enough to know what isn't there. To spot a difference, occasionally.
The difference is this:
Hades doesn't usually break up his sentences, doesn't stop and start or redirect. He's already formed those thoughts far ahead of speech, his words flowing seamlessly into the patterns he's worn into habit over lifetimes. It's jarring.
But he's already committed to this. More than that, he's certain of it. Of its purpose, its meaning, its trajectory. He's been armed and dangerous, but it feels like he has no choice: it's time to deliver the payload.
"Oh. No. This predates that particular bullshit. This is like five months of Machiavellian buildup, an excrucuatingly executed logistical slowburn scripted around your place along the sinuous ouroboros of the so-called mortal coil."
Dirk's hands move as he talks--illustrative gestures, his jaw pressed tight at the corners of his mouth, giving it (and him) a very square, angular presence.
"That first weekend you saw me--not as my body, but my Ultimate Self--back in June, I tripped on Hythlodaeus out in the woods. Non-literally, I mean. I didn't even recognise him at first, but he made a big deal out of the whole thing, and he tried to leverage your future 'death' to some ends that I didn't care about. Which I told him. Probably he had this whole thing in mind back then, but wasn't committed to me as the vehicle for it."
It's true. It is not often that Hades stammers, or changes the course of a sentence, mispeaking or anything of that nature. His words, his actions, everything is so thoroughly planned, calculated, and executed, that him doing anything of that sort is far more telling than it might be for near anyone else. That Dirk catches it isn't surprising, but that he doesn't quite address it, or give any indication of thus, might be.
Well, either way, Hades makes no clear indication that he's bothered by Dirk's apparent lack of noticing the slip in his eloquence. For the better, since what is more important is what Dirk is explaining. Fleshing out the missing pieces from their previous interaction, from when Dirk first learned of his fated demise of sorts.
Just how long Dirk had kept that information a secret from him being confirmed now. Idly, he wonders why Dirk kept it from him, he doubted that it was because Hythlodaeus asked him to. Was he worried that Hades would give up and abandon their plans if he knew he would return to death? That he'd find no reason to carry on, and thus Dirk would be alone again?
Such idle thoughts get tucked away.
"He has spoke of wanting me to attempt to reclaim my life for myself. That, given the inconsequential nature of this world and its lack of effect on our own, I should take this time to enjoy myself. To live a life free from the burden of duty I have been pressed under for eons..." As he speaks, his eyes fall to the stones again, and with a beat of a break between his words, he takes his stone. Deep purple with the constellation of Gemini upon it, a perfect contrast to his pale gold eyes. He runs his thumb over the surface of it, his brow pinching together.
"I denied him, seeing no reason I should potentially err so grievously for the sake of myself and what shallow comfort I may yet garner from this world. Do not misunderstand, merely seeking suffering for the sake of it is no better, likewise hindering progress, but I cannot well abandon my duty because there is a chance what I do here might not matter. That there is no hope to return properly, regardless of what we do. There are far too few certainties to act with such blithe disregard to our individual causes, and such arrogance will be our downfall. However, I believe he now understands that, and perhaps he is attempting a different approach."
This time, it's what Emet doesn't say, and more specifically doesn't ask, that's noticeable. It's actually sort of surreal--to see the holes, feel the jagged edges, and still have no idea what the polished image is supposed to look like. It's been a while since he had to talk to anyone like this. It's... frustrating.
"Right. He framed it all as an interest in your happiness. He still does."
Dirk crosses his arms tight over his chest, his head bowing slightly, the faint ghost-edge of a frown haunting the set corners of his stoic mouth.
"That's the thing about him. I don't know what Hythlodaeus--the OG--was like, but I don't doubt this one's a near-flawless facsimile of the guy. Probably no one but you could have made such a complete image of his person. He exists because you needed him, and he's taking the initiative to do what you needed him to do. Which is whatever you can't or won't."
His arms unfold, his shoulders rolling back as he watches the light reflect off what looks to be Hades' own crystal.
"So don't think I'm changing the subject when I ask this... but what were you planning to do with that one?"
He's silent for a long moment, before he just as silently retrieves Elidibus' (colorless with Ophiuchus' constellation), and Lahabrea's (sky blue with Pisces' constellation). He holds theirs in one hand, his in the other.
"...After the Sundering, we paragons--the Unsundered--made crystals of our memories of the others, but so too for ourselves. In part, they could help restore any memory lost, not that I had worries of my own memories being lost, but..." As he trails off, his eyes fall to Elidibus' and Lahabrea's crystals. His brow wrinkling with grief pinching it.
"The others were another matter. Regardless, the idea was that once we were able to restore our world, or must needs hand the torch over to those that may rise to take our place, they would have access to our memories. They would know the world that was lost, the truth, and the men who fought with every fiber of their eternal souls to restore it as it should be."
After the explanation, he places the two back in their places, while keeping his own within his grasp. Though, after a beat passes, he then hand sit to Dirk--for him to inspect it himself, if he so desires. The precious stone being the crystalized manifestation of all his memories--of his personhood, in a sense. Should Dirk take it, Hades will return to weaving his fingers in his lap, his eyes downcast as he begins on the other topic of interest.
"As for Hythlodaeus--he is much the same as he was when he lived. There are none as familiar with him as I, but when I made him...I had not meant to make him so autonomous. He was meant to add flavor to Amaurot, make it more believable, immersive, authentic... That he would be as he is now was a mistake on my part. A careless thought was enough to invoke such an existence. How very thoughtless and cruel of me."
In what must have been hundreds of late-night dialogues and early morning jam sessions and mid-afternoon work hour debates, Dirk has learned (sometimes the hard way) that his partner is an expert--perhaps too much of an expert--at retraining a conversation or topic to its original purpose or point, regardless of what Dirk may or want or intend.
If Hades is progressively moving away from the topic, Dirk knows that even if it's not happening on purpose, it's also not being done by accident.
He hesitates a beat, more surprised by the offer of something just as precious as Azem's crystal--if not more precious, even 'empty' as it is now. He takes it, though, with careful fingers, then turns his hand over to close them over the crystal, now pressed into his palm. And braces for the worst.
"....I don't want to talk about Hythlodaeus right now, other than what he's doing back in canon. This is about you and about Azem. I'm only talking about Hythlodaeus because it sounds like he might have engineered a chance for you."
The careful way that Dirk takes his stone tells him the weight of its importance, of its preciousness is not utterly lost on him. That Dirk not only understands, but respects what it means, even when they both know it has nothing that it should. It is merely a representation of what it should be, of what it should hold. Even then, the sentiment wrapped up in its visage is enough to invoke thoughtful handling.
It's moments like these that Hades knows he has not misjudged Dirk. For all his shortcomings, he makes up for them in the little ways that others would utterly fail at.
"Engineered a chance for me." Hades repeats the words, though they sound distant and... not quite hollow, but a close relative. "It is possible, yes. That he could achieve that. With Azem's shard doing as he has...freeing both myself and Elidibus, in a manner of speaking..."
As he trails off, so too does his gaze, his expression contemplative—thoughtful. Did the warrior kill them both, or did he...?
"...What is it exactly you wish to know of me and Azem? I feel as though I have touched on everything beyond minute and mundane specificities, but it does seem that you have something particular in mind." Finally, he looks back to Dirk, his expression somewhere close to neutral, more than it's been this whole conversation.
Dirk gives him the time to turn those words over, the possibilities he can see so clearly laid out for Hades' canon and narrative; the stone rests solid in his grasp, its weight pressed against the soft leather of his glove and the rough callouses of his hand itself.
He waits for Hades to come back to the topic, then takes a breath.
"It's the minute and mundane specificities that I'm asking for. It's like you're telling me about his character as Azem, but nothing about him personally or specifically. Like if I told you about Roxy, but didn't tell you what he was good at or what he did for fun or even what colour he typed in." It's been a very long time since Dirk brought Roxy up, and he knows it's kind of a gamble--that Hades will know what he means by invoking his name, or what he's leaving out, or that it won't backfire and turn into an interrogation he's suddenly on the receiving end of.
An interrogation that will not happen in the moment, but he certainly will ask about at a later date. He held off initially because Dirk did not revisit the topic, had not for the spanning months since he first heard the name, but now...
Now this opened doors.
With understanding, he nods, and likewise sees his error. Most would not care for the mundanities, would rather hear of deeds grand and heroic. But Dirk was different, Dirk is different, and perhaps that's why he's drawn to him. Not that mortals do not care for the humanity of heroes, but they also don't quite care enough.
But Dirk does.
It's an even and slow draw of breath that signals his collected thoughts, that he is ready to speak on the matter. And for all his fondness towards Azem's greatness, there's something deeper yet for the man removed of the title. Of who became Azem, and not what Azem made of the man.
"He loved people." He says with a sense of thoughtful measure to his tone. "Loved the world. There was little he enjoyed more than a feast with his fellows, of sharing stories, concepts, ideas... He loved life, loved the richness of it, the bounty of knowledge and mystery it held..."
His eyes crinkle with the soft smile that adorns his face as he looks on at Dirk, yet there's something about the gaze that would suggest he's...perhaps looking past him. Looking to the past, perhaps. As if seeing something that was beyond the mortal scope—beyond anyone's scope but his.
Then in the next moment, it's gone, but the warmth isn't. Not entirely. His expression is still soft and loving, but the depth of that admiration is decidedly put away.
"He was a traveler, not merely by his duty, but because he so loved the world, that he wished to behold it all. He could read about it, like most Amaurotines did, yet he would choose to witness it with his own eyes. Wished to learn of our neighbors, to learn of their traditions. Their beliefs. Their practices. To likewise observe the natural beauty of the beasts that roamed our star—ever was he a lover of such creatures."
He pauses a moment, his expression struck with thoughtful realization, before settling into a smug, knowing smile.
"So too was he a bit of a warrior—not that wars were ever fought ere The Sundering, but he enjoyed handling weapons. Enjoyed the thrill of combat—of course such methods were reserved for unruly beasts or the concepts he'd dispatch to right aether disturbances..." He trails off for a moment, before continuing with a slightly lower tone, "Unlike most of our kind, he leaned into the violence within our hearts, but it was not fueled by hatred one might otherwise associate. Nay, 'twas his love that guided his blade."
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no subject
Hades' misunderstanding jumps out at Dirk and practically slaps him across the face with the realisation of how much explanation this really demands. It's not that he was unaware; more that the timing only now strikes him as especially choice, in either a good way or a bad one.
A more empathetic person, a more human one, might have some sense of which it is. Humanity is, at its very core, a relationship to other humans. Its absence rarely bothers him any more, insensate as he is, but he knows enough to know what isn't there. To spot a difference, occasionally.
The difference is this:
Hades doesn't usually break up his sentences, doesn't stop and start or redirect. He's already formed those thoughts far ahead of speech, his words flowing seamlessly into the patterns he's worn into habit over lifetimes. It's jarring.
But he's already committed to this. More than that, he's certain of it. Of its purpose, its meaning, its trajectory. He's been armed and dangerous, but it feels like he has no choice: it's time to deliver the payload.
"Oh. No. This predates that particular bullshit. This is like five months of Machiavellian buildup, an excrucuatingly executed logistical slowburn scripted around your place along the sinuous ouroboros of the so-called mortal coil."
Dirk's hands move as he talks--illustrative gestures, his jaw pressed tight at the corners of his mouth, giving it (and him) a very square, angular presence.
"That first weekend you saw me--not as my body, but my Ultimate Self--back in June, I tripped on Hythlodaeus out in the woods. Non-literally, I mean. I didn't even recognise him at first, but he made a big deal out of the whole thing, and he tried to leverage your future 'death' to some ends that I didn't care about. Which I told him. Probably he had this whole thing in mind back then, but wasn't committed to me as the vehicle for it."
no subject
Well, either way, Hades makes no clear indication that he's bothered by Dirk's apparent lack of noticing the slip in his eloquence. For the better, since what is more important is what Dirk is explaining. Fleshing out the missing pieces from their previous interaction, from when Dirk first learned of his fated demise of sorts.
Just how long Dirk had kept that information a secret from him being confirmed now. Idly, he wonders why Dirk kept it from him, he doubted that it was because Hythlodaeus asked him to. Was he worried that Hades would give up and abandon their plans if he knew he would return to death? That he'd find no reason to carry on, and thus Dirk would be alone again?
Such idle thoughts get tucked away.
"He has spoke of wanting me to attempt to reclaim my life for myself. That, given the inconsequential nature of this world and its lack of effect on our own, I should take this time to enjoy myself. To live a life free from the burden of duty I have been pressed under for eons..." As he speaks, his eyes fall to the stones again, and with a beat of a break between his words, he takes his stone. Deep purple with the constellation of Gemini upon it, a perfect contrast to his pale gold eyes. He runs his thumb over the surface of it, his brow pinching together.
"I denied him, seeing no reason I should potentially err so grievously for the sake of myself and what shallow comfort I may yet garner from this world. Do not misunderstand, merely seeking suffering for the sake of it is no better, likewise hindering progress, but I cannot well abandon my duty because there is a chance what I do here might not matter. That there is no hope to return properly, regardless of what we do. There are far too few certainties to act with such blithe disregard to our individual causes, and such arrogance will be our downfall. However, I believe he now understands that, and perhaps he is attempting a different approach."
no subject
"Right. He framed it all as an interest in your happiness. He still does."
Dirk crosses his arms tight over his chest, his head bowing slightly, the faint ghost-edge of a frown haunting the set corners of his stoic mouth.
"That's the thing about him. I don't know what Hythlodaeus--the OG--was like, but I don't doubt this one's a near-flawless facsimile of the guy. Probably no one but you could have made such a complete image of his person. He exists because you needed him, and he's taking the initiative to do what you needed him to do. Which is whatever you can't or won't."
His arms unfold, his shoulders rolling back as he watches the light reflect off what looks to be Hades' own crystal.
"So don't think I'm changing the subject when I ask this... but what were you planning to do with that one?"
no subject
"...After the Sundering, we paragons--the Unsundered--made crystals of our memories of the others, but so too for ourselves. In part, they could help restore any memory lost, not that I had worries of my own memories being lost, but..." As he trails off, his eyes fall to Elidibus' and Lahabrea's crystals. His brow wrinkling with grief pinching it.
"The others were another matter. Regardless, the idea was that once we were able to restore our world, or must needs hand the torch over to those that may rise to take our place, they would have access to our memories. They would know the world that was lost, the truth, and the men who fought with every fiber of their eternal souls to restore it as it should be."
After the explanation, he places the two back in their places, while keeping his own within his grasp. Though, after a beat passes, he then hand sit to Dirk--for him to inspect it himself, if he so desires. The precious stone being the crystalized manifestation of all his memories--of his personhood, in a sense. Should Dirk take it, Hades will return to weaving his fingers in his lap, his eyes downcast as he begins on the other topic of interest.
"As for Hythlodaeus--he is much the same as he was when he lived. There are none as familiar with him as I, but when I made him...I had not meant to make him so autonomous. He was meant to add flavor to Amaurot, make it more believable, immersive, authentic... That he would be as he is now was a mistake on my part. A careless thought was enough to invoke such an existence. How very thoughtless and cruel of me."
no subject
If Hades is progressively moving away from the topic, Dirk knows that even if it's not happening on purpose, it's also not being done by accident.
He hesitates a beat, more surprised by the offer of something just as precious as Azem's crystal--if not more precious, even 'empty' as it is now. He takes it, though, with careful fingers, then turns his hand over to close them over the crystal, now pressed into his palm. And braces for the worst.
"....I don't want to talk about Hythlodaeus right now, other than what he's doing back in canon. This is about you and about Azem. I'm only talking about Hythlodaeus because it sounds like he might have engineered a chance for you."
no subject
It's moments like these that Hades knows he has not misjudged Dirk. For all his shortcomings, he makes up for them in the little ways that others would utterly fail at.
"Engineered a chance for me." Hades repeats the words, though they sound distant and... not quite hollow, but a close relative. "It is possible, yes. That he could achieve that. With Azem's shard doing as he has...freeing both myself and Elidibus, in a manner of speaking..."
As he trails off, so too does his gaze, his expression contemplative—thoughtful. Did the warrior kill them both, or did he...?
"...What is it exactly you wish to know of me and Azem? I feel as though I have touched on everything beyond minute and mundane specificities, but it does seem that you have something particular in mind." Finally, he looks back to Dirk, his expression somewhere close to neutral, more than it's been this whole conversation.
no subject
He waits for Hades to come back to the topic, then takes a breath.
"It's the minute and mundane specificities that I'm asking for. It's like you're telling me about his character as Azem, but nothing about him personally or specifically. Like if I told you about Roxy, but didn't tell you what he was good at or what he did for fun or even what colour he typed in." It's been a very long time since Dirk brought Roxy up, and he knows it's kind of a gamble--that Hades will know what he means by invoking his name, or what he's leaving out, or that it won't backfire and turn into an interrogation he's suddenly on the receiving end of.
"It's pink, by the way."
no subject
Now this opened doors.
With understanding, he nods, and likewise sees his error. Most would not care for the mundanities, would rather hear of deeds grand and heroic. But Dirk was different, Dirk is different, and perhaps that's why he's drawn to him. Not that mortals do not care for the humanity of heroes, but they also don't quite care enough.
But Dirk does.
It's an even and slow draw of breath that signals his collected thoughts, that he is ready to speak on the matter. And for all his fondness towards Azem's greatness, there's something deeper yet for the man removed of the title. Of who became Azem, and not what Azem made of the man.
"He loved people." He says with a sense of thoughtful measure to his tone. "Loved the world. There was little he enjoyed more than a feast with his fellows, of sharing stories, concepts, ideas... He loved life, loved the richness of it, the bounty of knowledge and mystery it held..."
His eyes crinkle with the soft smile that adorns his face as he looks on at Dirk, yet there's something about the gaze that would suggest he's...perhaps looking past him. Looking to the past, perhaps. As if seeing something that was beyond the mortal scope—beyond anyone's scope but his.
Then in the next moment, it's gone, but the warmth isn't. Not entirely. His expression is still soft and loving, but the depth of that admiration is decidedly put away.
"He was a traveler, not merely by his duty, but because he so loved the world, that he wished to behold it all. He could read about it, like most Amaurotines did, yet he would choose to witness it with his own eyes. Wished to learn of our neighbors, to learn of their traditions. Their beliefs. Their practices. To likewise observe the natural beauty of the beasts that roamed our star—ever was he a lover of such creatures."
He pauses a moment, his expression struck with thoughtful realization, before settling into a smug, knowing smile.
"So too was he a bit of a warrior—not that wars were ever fought ere The Sundering, but he enjoyed handling weapons. Enjoyed the thrill of combat—of course such methods were reserved for unruly beasts or the concepts he'd dispatch to right aether disturbances..." He trails off for a moment, before continuing with a slightly lower tone, "Unlike most of our kind, he leaned into the violence within our hearts, but it was not fueled by hatred one might otherwise associate. Nay, 'twas his love that guided his blade."