Chapter Text
S’vash grit his teeth and internally, then externally, cursed. They hadn’t thought this through. How in the hells was he supposed to learn anything in Elpis if he couldn’t open the damned door? Maybe he could just wait until one of the ancients decided to take a lunch break outdoors and follow them out, but they reminded him a little too much of his former co-workers at Melvaan’s Gate; that is, the types to take lunch breaks at their desk and get mustard all over the forms rather than miss a second of work. Even the ones who just arrived seemed far too engrossed in their studies and demanding they take each other’s masks off to bother going outside.
“Come now, is this truly necessary? Surely you can tell who we are…”
S’vash froze.
He knew that voice. But it couldn’t be. Even for a person whose life tended towards lucky coincidence, it couldn’t possibly be …
S’vash turned just as Emet-Selch lowered his hood.
Well… If nothing else, Emet-Selch had managed to perfectly remake his face on all those Garlean clone bodies. He was more handsome with the long, white hair but still looked like a grouch. S’vash would have thought that, what with this being the heyday of the Amaurotian era, Emet-Selch would have been more cheerful, but apparently he was just always like that.
And then, of course, because S’vash Tia was nothing if not the person to whom everything continued to happen so much… Emet-Selch turned his head and locked eyes with S’vash.
Godsdammit.
After a few minutes of passive-aggression, some cajoling and mysterious aether manipulation, S’vash decided he liked Hythlodaeus. Particularly now that he wasn’t a terrifying moon-specter or an Emet-Selch memory-construct. He reminded S’vash a little of Y’shtola, particularly in the way he cut around S’vash’s half-truths about where he’d been and why he’d come. He seemed to buy the idea that S’vash was a familiar and was simply here to learn about Elpis, at least.
“Perhaps Azem wished to come too, but had to settle for a familiar?” Hythlodaeus said, smiling.
Emet-Selch rolled his eyes as another ancient teleported in behind them in a flash of aether, “If he truly wished to be here, then he would be.”
“And here I am!” A voice called out.
Emet-Selch scowled. Hythlodaeus grinned.
“I mean, I’m assuming you’re talking about me. I’m a fascinating topic of conversation,” The new ancient said, stepping past the stammering attendant and waving him off as he tried to get the newcomer to remove his black mask.
“Mostly a topic of complaints about your tendency towards lateness and theatrics. We’d been hoping we’d only need to deal with your familiar ‘S’vash’, here. I should have known you’d insist on making an appearance yourself.”
“S’vash?” Azem said, pulling his mask off and hood down.
S’vash and Azem locked eyes. S’vash stared at the nearly identical face. His eyes were the same shade of fuschia, the same nose, same mouth, same dark skin. The same tight curls of black hair twisted into locs.
In a single moment, expanse contracted, eon became instant and across twelve thousand years and a sundered world, they came to an instant agreement.
Lie.
S’vash and Azem both turned to Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus with identical charming grins.
“Yes,” said Azem, brightly, “He’s very handsome, isn’t he? But what else could he be if he’s got my face, hm? Hope it wasn’t too much of a problem, sending him on ahead.”
Emet-Selch frowned, “You realize, of course, his aether was so thin he couldn’t even open the door?”
Azem shrugged, “What am I, an architect? Seems you fixed him. You’re fixed, aren’t you darling?”
S’vash buffed his nails on his shirt, “Emet-Selch did a fine enough job, I suppose.”
Emet-Selch looked extremely irritated, “Fine enough? Do us all a favor, Azem, and create your familiars properly before you send them off to bother us? Now come, some of us have work to be getting on with.”
“Oh right, Hermes. ” Azem said, sneering.
“Do try to remain professional, Azem,” Hythlodaeus said, though he was clearly holding back a laugh, “Don’t want to set a bad example for your familiar,”
“Oh, I already know all about Hermes,” S’vash said, “He’s the absolute fucking worst.”
“I’ve taught him so well,” said Azem.
“Are you seriously suggesting bringing this thing along on official business, Azem?” Hades snapped.
“I think it’s crucial that familiars get a full education, Emet-Selch. Have you ever known me to half-ass a construct?”
“I’ve known you to exclusively half-ass constructs, actually.”
Azem shrugged. S’vash did as well.
“Turning over a new leaf, then! You should be proud of me,” Azem said.
“ I’m proud of you,” S’vash said.
“I hate that there’s two of you,” Emet-Selch said and he stomped out the door.
Hythlodaeus just smiled and followed.
When Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus were a few steps in front of them, Azem turned to look at S’vash again, a desperate look on his face. He made a few wild gestures between them. S’vash held up his hands, placating and then shook his head. Azem frowned, pointed at Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, then back at S’vash.
S’vash was getting the gist. He’d had none too few similar, silent gesticulating conversations with his sister, Rinh, since they were children and more recently, since she’d joined the Scions. S’vash wondered if Azem had a sister too.
It wasn’t until they’d arrived at what appeared to be an aetheryte that Azem was able to shake off Hythlodaeus and Emet-Selch.
“If you two don’t mind, while you look for Hermes–”
“Don’t say his name like that.”
“I said it normal – I would like to take S’vash for a look around. A bit of an educational tour, tell him what a monocerous is, do a few errands.”
“Of course,” said Hythlodaeus, “For wherever there is suffering and despair, Azem appears to do his duty as guardian of this star.”
“You know, Ares said something similar last night when I brought dinner to his apartment.”
“And did he say something about leaving him to do all the work?” Hythlodaeus said, smirking a little.
“Maybe! Well, we shant be a minute, I’ll let you know if I spot Hermes.”
“Because your eyes will roll clean out of your head and across the lawn?” Emet-Selch said.
“Something like that.”
And with that, Azem grabbed S’vash by the upper arm and dragged him into the trees behind the building.
“ What in the name of fuck is going on? ” Azem hissed at S’vash when they were around a corner and out of earshot of anyone else, “Who are you? Why are you a– a cat?! Did I make you and – forget somehow?”
S’vash held his hands up again, “Okay, relax! I’m not a cat! And I – can’t tell you.”
“Oh, my cat copy says he can’t tell me, that’s not suspicious in the least! Why can’t you tell me?”
“It’s a secret! If I can’t tell you who I am, I obviously can’t tell you why I can’t tell you!”
“I –” Azem froze and anxiously pulled his locs up behind his head and dropped them again (a nervous tic S’vash himself had (this was weird)), “...Guess that makes sense. Shit . You’re sure I didn’t make you?”
“That’s… a bit of a complicated answer. I mean, no, you didn’t make me with creation magic or whatever it is you do, but you… are kind of indirectly responsible for me existing?” S’vash said, fiddling with the cord on the robe that Hythlodaeus had made for him.
Azem frowned again. S’vash waved him off.
“Look, I just – I’m not here to hurt anyone or spy on anyone or do anything untowards towards your …” S’vash pointed towards one of the beasts wandering the field, “Uh, chicken-antelope? I’m just here to investigate something and then I’ll leave, okay?”
Azem mulled this over for a moment and then nodded. S’vash relaxed a little.
“Great, th–”
“No.” Azem said, “Not okay. This is messed up, even for me, and things are constantly happening so much to me and …”
“And you’re not the type to just let things go…” S’vash finished, “Yeah, neither am I. Okay…”
S’vash lashed his tail, thinking.
“Okay, all I can tell you is… due to time travel… I can’t tell you anything without possibly fucking everything up completely, because if I tell you, I know you’ll want to help, because I want to help and I’m kind of you, but you can’t–”
“I can’t help because of the nature of time travel?”
S’vash nodded at Azem, “That’s about the size of it, yeah.”
Azem sighed, “This sounds like it’s been annoying for you.”
“You’ve no idea.”
“Okay… okay,” Azem took a deep breath and got a hold of himself, “Okay! Well, I’m no less at sea about this situation, but I’ve got enough to fake it. We can’t tell Hythlo or Emet-Selch, of course.”
“Oh, absolutely not, can you imagine? Of all the foolish things to do, you’re taking some time-hopping savage malformed creature at his word?” S’vash said in a tone like Emet-Selch’s.
Azem snorted, “That was spot on… So you’ve actually met him before?”
“Yeah. But he’s not met me, because of–”
“Time hopping, yes, I got it.”
“And I’ve met Hermes too. And Nabrialas, briefly. Ugh… Who else… Igee… something?”
“Igeyohrm.”
“Yes – that, and, er.. Artemis and Gaia? I don’t remember their titles.”
“Mitron and Loghrif.”
“Right. And Lahabrea.”
Azem pulled a face, “The current one?”
“I assume so, never got his name. He was awful. So, uh, if you’re friends, sorry.”
Azem laughed, “Ha! We are not friends. I don’t think he’s friends with anyone. He’s very weird and not in the fun way, like Emet-Selch is. I think his wife died and his brain broke, or something.” Azem added, loftily, waving a hand dismissively.
“Yes, well, a moon fell on my mother and sisters, so we’ve all got problems, Lahabrea.”
“Right? He’s compl- did you say a moon fell on your mother?”
“I did.”
“What the hell is a moon?”
“It’s… not important.”
Azem rested his back against a tree, “I must say, it seems like you know more convocation members than I do.”
“And I can stand even fewer of them… Oh, Elidibus, I met him too.”
“Oh!” Azem smiled a little, “He’s a good kid. I hope you got along with him.”
S’vash flicked an ear, “That’s … kind of complicated. He did seem like a good kid, though.”
Azem sighed, “This … really is a lot to take in, first thing in the morning.”
“I’d ask you to imagine how I feel, but I think you probably know exactly how I feel...”
“Right,” said Azem, “...I was supposed to be telling you what a monoceros was, wasn’t I?”
He pointed across the field to a white horse, with a pale main and a horn.
“Oh. We have those. We call them unicorns.”
“...That’s a much nicer name…”
“What do you call that thing?” S’vash asked, pointing to a small, pink creature with stubby limbs, gamely making his way up a tree nearby.
“... I would call that very brave.”
They stood in silence for a while, watching the little creature make its way to a branch.
“S’vash, what did you mean when you said you were me?”
“I can’t tell you that, either, Azem.”
“Hm. Worth a shot… Apollo. Is my name, by the way. I mean, it’s impolite to call me that, since I’ve got a seat on the convocation, but seeing as I’m you and all…”
“Apollo… Okay.” Somewhere deep inside S’vash’s soul, a bell of familiarity rang. Apollo. It felt like something he’d heard before.
Which made a lot of sense.
It was a while before they made their way back to Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus. Everyone they spoke to seemed to have some errand or another to do. S’vash was glad for the return to normalcy, if he was honest.
“Sometimes,” Apollo said, wrapping an aetherial rope around what appeared to be a green pinecone on legs, “The best way to gather your thoughts is to do a lot of bullshit chores for people who can’t be fucked to do it themselves.”
“Nice when they want you to gather little flower beasts, though, instead of expecting me to shovel chocobo shit.” S’vash said, an agavoide tucked under each arm.
“That’s true… What’s a chocobo?”
“I feel like I’m telling you too much.”
Apollo scoffed and picked up the agavoide, “Oh please, if the future depends on me not knowing what one kind of … animal that shits is, then it might be too far gone to save.”
“Fine, fine, point taken. It’s, er, a little like those chicken-antelopes – no, it’s just a large, yellow bird that we’ve bred and trained to use as mounts. Well, they’re not always yellow – mine’s white. And they can fly, if they’re trained to, but they don’t much do it in the wild? Or, at least I’ve never seen one fly in the wild.”
“So, it’s a big … riding bird?”
“Sometimes we dress them up.”
“S’vash, I won’t lie, I’ll be very disappointed in you if you, yourself, don’t dress your giant riding … Chockaboo, was it?”
“Chocobo. And of course I do, what do you take me for? She’s a fancy ceremonial breed, she wouldn’t go around without her traveling silks.”
Apollo laughed, “You know, perhaps I can come back with you to the future, I’d like to see this chocobo.”
“She loves to be seen.”
Talking to Apollo was a little like talking to a sibling. S’vash had a few brothers, of course, on his father’s side, but they were all much younger than he was. And on his mother’s side, only his sisters, Rinh and Amh had survived the calamity of all the dozens of Panipahrs. And Apollo was … S’vash didn’t know how to describe it. Intellectually, he knew, of course, they weren’t literally each other. He was thousands of years and thirteen shards away from actually being Apollo. But some part of him knew that that wasn’t really true either. He had been Apollo. Apollo was going to one day be him. Or at least, nine out of fourteen incarnations of Apollo were going to be S’vash. And talking to him was… a lot like talking to himself. An almost identical mirror, if Apollo hadn’t been lacking a tail and the miqo’te ears. But, well, nobody’s perfect.
—
“Why don’t you like Hermes?” S’vash asked as they made their way back from the tree Hermes was still stuck halfway up.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Apollo said, “He’s just … he’s just a bit of a prick, I guess?”
“That’s all?” S’vash said, skeptically.
“Well … Haven’t you ever met somebody who just immediately gave you … a bad feeling, regardless of anything they’d said or done? Bad vibrations?”
S’vash thought about his first meeting with Asahi. With Ilberd. With Thancred too, thinking back, but he’d been possessed, so maybe that didn’t count. And considering S’vash’s encounters with Fandaniel, who Hermes eventually became, S’vash couldn’t exactly say Apollo was wrong about his bad vibes.
“I suppose you’re right.” S’vash said.
“What about you? I’m guessing you ‘can’t tell me?’”
“Sorry Azem.”
—
For all its brightness and beauty, Elpis wasn’t quite enough to make S’vash forget the horror he had witnessed in Thavnair mere hours ago. He could still smell the ash in his hair from the burning jungle (too much like his home on the islands, too much like the dreams of the burning Shroud, falling down around Rinh as she fled, newborn Rinh’a in her arms, too much screaming) and he wasn’t sure his boots would ever dry from diving into the pool in the temple (the mother dead already, the baby too deep, dreams of Rinh running through a burning forest, already dead, Rinh’a too deep, dreaming too far to help them, the sky was on fire, the moon was falling, he was on the beach he was in the shroud he was in the jungle, Rinh was in the water he had to get her get Rinh’a the jungle was the moon was on fire his boots were wet he was going to burn with light from the inside out he had to save her he had to save him the moon was falling the goblet was falling he should have stayed she was falling the shield was broken he couldn’t save him couldn’t save her Raha was closing the door behind him the sky was on fire he was on the beach the moon was falling and
“Are you – all right?”
S’vash blinked. The sky was clear above him, the grassy fields around him basked in late afternoon light.
Meteion was shaking, her eyes full of tears. S’vash was shaking too. He rubbed the heel of his hand under his eyes, “I – um, yes, sorry. Sorry, I’m fine. I’m okay.”
Meteion seemed to collect herself as S’vash did. He pushed the ashy smell out of his mind.
“You – were sad.”
“No, no, I’m not, I’m alright, just.. Don’t worry.”
S’vash grinned at Meteion. She smiled back.
They’d been kicked out of the meeting – well, not exactly kicked out, S’vash had taken Meteion to have a walk around the grounds while Hermes had some kind of panic attack – not that S’vash was in any place to judge him, apparently. S’vash wasn’t sure what had set those memories off. He’d only been sitting there, quietly with Meteion, taking a moment to breathe. Thavnair was, quite literally, a world away.
“Meteion,” S’vash said, “Why don’t we see if anyone around here needs any help? It takes my mind off things.”
She smiled and nodded eagerly.
Part of S’vash couldn’t believe how good Apollo was at playing Emet-Selch like a fiddle. He doubly couldn’t believe that Emet-Selch and Apollo had apparently traveled around, helping people. That he and Apollo were apparently best friends.
“He just doesn’t seem the type.”
“Don’t let the grouchy turtle face fool you, S’vash, he’s a hero.” Apollo said.
“Turtle face?” Emet-Selch snapped from where he was training the charybdis.
“You heard me!” Apollo called back.
S’vash rested his chin in his hand and watched Meteion cheer, standing alongside Hermes. How much did it pain Emet-Selch to see S’vash’s face and the color of his soul and know it wasn’t truly Apollo? Had he even realized?
He’d asked S’vash to remember that they’d lived. At the time, S’vash had been – angry; furious even, heartbroken. Asked to remember by a man who was responsible for such suffering. Directly and indirectly responsible for the death of so much of his family, for Ysayle and Minfillia and all the lives lost on the First and in Doma. All in pursuit of a perfect world that was long gone. But he’d remembered anyway. Desperately tried to pull threads of memory of Amaurot that must be buried deep inside him. He hadn’t really known why he’d bothered, really, but maybe it was long-dormant nostalgia for a friend his soul still loved.
And apparently for a friend who was screwing his sister. S’vash scowled at the photo of Emet-Selch that Hythlodaeus had pulled out of his pocket. A party at the Akadaemia Anyder where they worked. Emet-Selch with a glass of wine and a young woman, laughing on his arm. S’vash would know that young woman’s face anywhere.
Aw, Ancient-Rinh, no , not Hades.
“That’s the face Azem made when he found out, too.” Hythlodaeus said, patting S’vash on the back, “I suppose being a protective brother holds on, even as a familiar?”
“I… yes. I guess it does.”
When Hythlodaeus looked away, Apollo made another questioning gesture and pointed to the young woman in the photo – Persephone , apparently, and then back at S’vash.
S’vash nodded.
“What are you two doing down there?” Emet-Selch barked.
“Nothing, darling, we’re making fun of you!” Apollo yelled, “Nothing unusual!”
—
The grim purple of the Elpis flowers were still hanging over S’vash’s head when he arrived in the room. He kind of wanted to just sleep outside, truth be told. These rooms were a lot like Sharlayan’s nap rooms and it just made him feel homesick.
He missed G’raha. He should have told him … he should have – whatever.
Apollo was already in the room when S’vash arrived, propped up half-against the wall on a bed, flipping through a book.
“That’s not pornography or anything, is it?”
Apollo snorted, “No, I’d only look at that when I’m sharing a room with Hythlo, just to fuck with him a bit.”
“Not with Emet-Selch?”
“He doesn’t blush so easily. It’s New Developments in Phytobiology. Perse wrote it and I promised I’d read the manuscript before she sent it off to her editor.
S’vash sat down on the bed opposite Apollo.
Persephone. Apollo’s sister. The Rinh, apparently, to Apollo’s S’vash.
“I’d be lying if I said I knew what Phytobiology is.”
“Honestly, me too, but it’s basically… Ah,” Apollo waved a hand, vaguely, “Plant science. She’s a professor at Akadaemia Anyder. Designs concepts for trees, plants, you know.”
“A professor? Smarter than you, then?”
“ Oh yes. But… don’t tell her I said that. What kind of little brother would I be if I admitted it?”
“Well, mine’s smarter than me too, so it adds up.” S’vash said, pulling his legs up on the bed and leaning against the wall.
“You’ve got a Persephone?”
S’vash nodded, “Yes. Rinh, her name is. And I have, uh, other siblings. Amh, Navri and Miah, on my mother’s side. And we’ll be here all night if I have to name all the siblings on my father’s side. Is it just… You and Persephone? No one else.”
“Just us, yes.” Apollo said, then chewed his lip, “... The more you tell me, the more questions I have, you know.”
“Hazards of time travel, I’m afraid.”
“So you’ve said… But I just – I don’t understand. You look like me, you seem to be… well, not me exactly, but quite a lot like me. You have a Persephone, but I don't have any – Navris or Amhs or Miahs. How does this work?”
“I can’t–”
“You can’t tell me, yes, yes, I got it.” Apollo said, putting the book down.
“I’m sorry. I – I wish I could, honestly, but so much is relying on me coming back and not … destroying the timeline and I have to save everyone and stop everything and every single fucking step of the way has been … insane! And horrible!” S’vash took a deep breath and anxiously twisted his hair up behind his head, “And – and I’m worried I’m going to get back and everyone I know, everyone I’m fighting for will be gone and dead and then – if I’d stayed, if I hadn’t come here, could I have saved them?”
S’vash buried his face in his hands and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“This is all just… Too much. I never wanted to be part of any of this.”
S’vash looked across the room at Apollo. They quietly stared at each other, near perfect mirrors.
Fuck it.
“The world is ending, Apollo, and I think it started here.”
Once he started talking about it, it was hard to stop himself. He left out most of the Hydaelyn of it all and the cosmological details, but by the end, he was pacing the room and shaking.
“And I didn’t know what else to do! The - I saw families, just … dissolve! Their souls crumble apart! And Elidibus said I can’t change anything, can’t save any of you but I’m supposed to find out why and I don’t even fucking know where to start! And I think this – this Dynamis, Akasha, whatever, is part of it but I don’t know how and I don’t understand any of it enough to even take a guess! And I’m sure I’m making a huge fucking mistake telling you all this, because eventually you’ll be me and if I was you, I know I’d be trying to find out a way to fix it, but if you fix it then everything falls apart again anyway because of – timeline paradox shit I don’t understand.”
S’vash breathed hard for a moment and then just… sat down on the floor, next to Apollo where he was seated on the side of the bed. Apollo rested a hand on S’vash’s head and S’vash couldn’t summon the energy to brush him off.
“That’s … a lot.”
“Very helpful, Apollo, thank you, I can see why you were granted the seat of Azem.”
“I’m being serious. Between you being … nine fourteenths of me, and also me from the future and my best friend committing genocide a load of times to try and mash the star back together… It’s a lot to take in.”
“It’s not any easier spreading it out over the course of a few years, either,” S’vash muttered, “At the time, I blamed Emet-Selch for a lot of it, but now … I wonder what I would do to save everyone. … Probably not sacrifice three quarters of the population of the star, though. Or murder the population of an entire star nine times over.”
“I thought you said they’d only succeeded seven times?”
“Yeah, but the First shard still got mostly murdered and the Thirteenth didn’t rejoin but became … I don’t know, all void-fucked. Regardless, Emet-Selch did spend twelve thousand years with just Lahabrea and a – a ghost of Elidibus’s memories for company, so he might deserve a little leeway.”
Apollo just hummed, thinking.
“So… What are we going to do, then?”
“As I just spent the last damned hour explaining, you literally cannot do anything. I don’t know if just by telling you, I can … save anyone or change anything, but the time I come from depends on the Final Days happening here.”
“Until a moment finally arrives, S’vash, we can’t know for certain what will come to pass.”
“I rather think I can, considering I come from a future where I know what happened.”
“Well, regardless… I don’t think it’s wise to tell Emet-Selch or Hythlodaeus. Emet-Selch’s liable to take offense and Hythlo will probably spill the beans to him the moment we let him out of our line of sight. Frankly, I think if I really wanted to change the future, I’d just shove Hermes off the side of the island.”
“I don’t think Hermes being dead is going to actually stop the final days from coming to pass, it’ll just stop him from committing suicide by – well, by me ,” S’vash said, hauling himself up from the floor and onto the bed, “Considering he’s such an idiot compared to Emet-Selch, I’m shocked at all the damage he managed to do.”
“Well, it’s like fighting a wild animal versus fighting another person. An animal might do more damage lashing out wildly than a person who knows what they’re doing. Emet-Selch had a vested interest in the star continuing to spin. Fandaniel was trying to burn it all down.”
S’vash thought back to the flowers. To Hermes’ mission of sending Meteion’s sisters out into the stars with his question.
“Maybe he didn’t like the answer,” S’vash said, quietly.
“Hm?”
“Hermes. And Meteion and her sisters. He sent them to find out … the meaning of life on other stars. Hear what the inhabitants of other stars think. What drives them.”
“That seems like a fucking idiotic idea. What makes him think the purpose of life is different on other stars than it is here?”
S’vash shrugged, “What even is the meaning of life here?”
Apollo considered this for a moment, “Hm. Fucking around and finding out?”
“That sounds about right.”