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Don't Get Me Wrong, I Love You, But

Chapter 3: Anagnorisis

Notes:

Your time is up. Have you figured it out? Tell me, what is <Your Answer>?

"..."

Ah, you HAVE seen it, after all. The tragedy that is about to unfold. The misery you could have avoided, if only you had not stubbornly insisted on playing this game all the way to the end. I could have given you the gentlest ending, if only- ahh, but it's too late for that now.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hythlodaeus doesn't reply, and when Emet-Selch turns to look, he realizes that Hythlodaeus isn't looking at him. He's looking at the bush where the cat vanished.

"I say," says Hythlodaeus. "Didn't that cat look awfully like Azem?"

"You can't be serious," laughs Emet-Selch. "That wretched thing?"

"Entirely serious. The color is very distinctive, don't you think?"

"I admit there are some superficial similarities, but in case you've forgotten, Azem is a person."

"No, I'm very sure of it now. That cat was Azem."

"Oh, come on-"

"Say it, then," demands Hythlodaeus stubbornly. "Contradict me. Say it in red."

"Fine," growls Emet-Selch, turning back to point at the shrubbery. "That-


The world stutters to a halt. A falling leaf hangs in the air, motionless. The cubus, ever-undulating, are as still as the grave. Even Emet-Selch finds he cannot move, his eyes locked on the bush he is still pointing at.

Something is behind him. Very close behind him. When it speaks, it sounds like Hythlodaeus, but he knows it's not. When it speaks, the noise emanates from inside of Emet-Selch's very skull. If any part of him could move, it would rattle his bones.

UPON CLAIMING THIS AS TRUTH, SEVERAL SCENES WILL PLAY IN SEQUENCE. IT IS RECOMMENDED THAT YOU SET ASIDE SUFFICIENT TIME TO VIEW THESE SCENES IN THEIR ENTIRETY.

It's not her. He knows it isn't. She wouldn't be in a fragment like this. It's impossible. A forgery at best, not the actual truth of existence.

ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO DO THAT?

Emet-Selch…

…hesitates.


-can't be her," he finishes weakly.

"Ha!" cries Hythlodaus. "You can't, can you? She's alive, and that's her. Come on, she can't have gone far, we can still catch up with her."

"It's your theory, you go chase after her if you like. I have far more important things to do."

"Suit yourself. I'll see you later, then." Hythlodaeus charges off, but pauses halfway through the hedgerow, turning back almost as if he can hear Emet-Selch's mood shift. "Emet-Selch… no, Hades, my old friend. Look after yourself, won't you?"

Emet-Selch wants to snort dismissively, but finds he can't summon the necessary level of disdain in the face of Hythlodaeus' earnestness. "I will."

Hythlodaus squints at him, but eventually nods. Then with a smile and a wave, he turns and vanishes in a rustle of leaves and twigs.

Finding himself suddenly at a loss, Emet-Selch walks back to the main promenade and heads towards the Capitol building. He doesn't feel lonely. He doesn't.

He climbs the Capitol steps slowly, hauling himself up one enormous stair at a time. He has a moment of vertigo: these stairs are sized for the inhabitants of this city. He lives in this city. And yet, the rise of each stair comes up to the hips of this body.

He shakes his head, frustrated. "There are no stairs in this city. Only ramps."

The limestone beneath his feet warps and shimmers, the carved steps melting and reforming into wide, sloped flagstones. He grunts, satisfied, and continues on.

Inside, the Capitol is as busy as ever, despite the late hour. Clerks hurry by, carrying stacks of crystallized records. Laughter leaks out through an open doorway, a voice he recognizes as the city's mayor. Life in Amaurot continues on, and this building is Amaurot's beating heart, its people the city's lifeblood.

Emet-Selch finds himself clutching something in his pocket. A golden memory crystal carved into the shape of a shield, its edges worn down over millennia. A crystal his fingers recognize intimately.

"It can't be her," he whispers to himself. "There are only two people in this city."

His eyes snap wide in horror. "No," he says into the deafening, ringing silence.


"Fare you well, my new old friend," says Hythlodaeus. "May you find what it is you seek."

The miqo'te with golden eyes turns back to say farewell in kind, but the friendly shade is already gone.

Notes:

"This game of yours is the height of foolishness. Is there even a point to it, or are you simply amusing yourself at my expense?"

The point is that there IS no point. Everyone dies, in every fragment and every shard. The only differences are in how long it takes, and how much misery they go through before then. You will never find what you seek, so you should just give up. *cackle* *cackle*