this soul can never die

tension starters -- accepting!

In retrospect, this was incredibly typical and Emma should’ve known. It was Ryujin, after all. The two gods were very, very different, what with Ryujin being all cheerful and Emma being, well, morbid. They still got along, somehow, probably because Ryujin had the talent to worm his way into whatever Emma was doing at the moment.

Like right now. Emma had just been walking down the street, minding his own business, trying to not get lost on his way to buy some food, when all of a sudden someone grabbed him and hoisted him over their (very broad) shoulder. Emma made a startled noise that was not fitting for the Ruler of the Underworld and was about to call the shadows to his aid when he realized who was holding him.

With a gentle smile and bob of his head, Phobetor bids a good bye to the younger guests who had a few curiosities to ask him, and as he lifts his champagne glass to take a sip, notices something dark pool around his feet. With a frown his gaze darts lower, watching as shadows swarm under the black leather of his shoes, before a body steps to his side and a familiar voice calls for his attention. “As I live and breath-” he hums in surprise as he turns, widened eyes settling on a face well known from his past, but it had been quite some time. 

“The great overlord of hell, here, on the island?” He hums,smile widening as it was good to see a familiar face. Ever the one to make a scene, of course he had chosen tonight of all nights to arrive. Chuckling at the comment of bright lights, his own gaze lifts to the glowing fixtures above them as he nods in agreement. “How long have you been in the realm of the living?” He enquires with a gentle frown, if the light was still bothering him, then it could not have been long.

”It has been so long, where have you been?”

Emma grins at Phobetor’s surprise, waving at him with a lace-covered hand. “Look at you using my title and everything~ Isn’t it a lovely surprise to see me here?” His friendship with Phoebtor has always been light-hearted, despite their respective roles as gods. He’d truly missed the other. “I came here last night. Haven’t even unpacked my boxes yet... But how could I pass on the opportunity for a party, hm?”

As he speaks, Emma takes a moment to look his old friend up and down. He’s changed over the decades, unsurprisingly, but his aura is undoubtingly the same. “You look good,” he says before giving a soft, low laugh at Phoebtor’s question. “Are you accusing me? I’ve been busy in Jigoku. Judging the dead, watching their souls, all of that. I’ve been wanting to come back for a while, but...” He shrugged.

Ryo didn’t know what about him so familiar but the first thing that comes to mind that this man was undoubtedly Japanese. The power that radiates from him was enough to fill a room, he had to be a god. Which one? He couldn’t be sure.. So he decides to take a shot in the dark.

Before he can even say anything though he does hear the god talk which only further proves that this man is definitely a god. “Something tells me that you must be from my family, or pantheon really.” he chuckles as he’s slipped into his Japanese, stepping closer to the other at the same time. He can feel the slow crawl of intimidation graze his skin and something about the look in this god’s eyes resonates with him. “You are most definitely not my mother since she is the goddess of creation and death..which would leave..would you happen to be Emma-O?” he ask with the tilt of his head but that grin on his face doesn’t disappear. He doesn’t even mean to smile in such a way as to taunt. He’s more amazed than anything else, but of course he remembered his manners bowing for him. “Hajimemashite.” 

One eyebrow raised, Emma takes the person in front of him in once again. Them speaking Japanese makes him feel at ease-- though he’s well-versed in many languages, he rarely has the opportunity to actively speak them, so his native tongue is the only one he’s fluent in.

Emma can sense the other is slightly intimidated, but there’s no fear there. He returns the grin with one of his own and gives a bow with a bit of a flourish, just because. “Not bad, not bad. Yes, I’m Emma-ō, just Emma is fine... though I don’t mind being called Emma-ō.” King Emma. He didn’t require anyone outside of Jigoku to address him as such, but he couldn’t deny he enjoyed how it felt. “You’re one of Izanami’s, then? A wonderful woman. We don’t meet as often as one might think, but she visits Jigoku every now and then.” Though he has friends among the gods, Emma’s usual residence isn’t exactly easy to reach. Sometimes it takes decades or longer before he sees other deities again.

“Hello!”

Without thought Jinsoul repeats the greeting in Japanese; it comes to her easily as if she’s back home, not surprising considering the way she had been openly staring at the other being, transfixed. Speaking Korean over Japanese is the last thing on her mind.

“It really is a lot, huh? Everyone here is so interesting!”

It’s obvious she means him, too. Everyone is dressed extravagantly, but no one yet has looked the way he does and it seems to captivate the demigoddess. They must look quite the opposite, her in all her tulle and silken flowers, pale hair pinned back with delicate little blooms.

“My name is Jinsoul, but all my friends call me Jinsoullie, so please~! I’m a twenty three year old daughter of Benten and it is very nice to meet you!”

The champagne is definitely going to her head. It shows in the introduction she’s been perfecting all evening and the little curtsy that follows.

Emma is pleasantly surprised to hear the young woman reply in Japanese. He figured some people around here would speak it, but hadn’t thought he’d meet someone this soon.

When she says the word interesting he knows he’s included in that and he can’t help but grin. How wonderful, to be surrounded by new people who aren’t used to his style and antics yet. Not that Emma is in need of an ego-boost, but... it’s appreciated. “Indeed,” he agrees, a slight tilt to his head as he takes in her outfit. She looks very soft and summer-y, completely different from him, but good. Unsurprisingly, she’s taller than he is, but he doesn’t mind. “The flowers are a very nice touch, they suit you.”

She introduces herself and-- of course, she’s one of Benten’s children, now it all makes sense. “Benten?” Emma repeats with a smile. “I know her well. My name is Emma, I am the God of the Underworld.” He gives the demigoddess a small bow. “Now that you’ve told me who your mother is, it explains the... I suppose energy is the right word? Around you.” As a Goddess of Luck and patron of the arts, Benten was always someone Emma got along with and whose company he enjoyed.

@phobetorxmp​

Emma had forgotten how hot and bright Earth could be. In Jigoku it was always nice and cool, it was always only as light as he wanted it. His palace sparkled in the darkness or it didn’t, depending on his preference, and he could be dressed in layers upon layers of dark clothes without having to deal with any heat-related consequences.

Here, however, despite it being evening, Emma was annoyed. His clothing was loose enough and the top cut low enough for there to be some air circulation, but it was nowhere near as relaxing and cool as he was used to. He sipped at an aggressively colored drink and sighed, resigned.

That is, until he spotted an old friend. Phobetor-- and yes, it was Phobetor, even decades of not seeing each other wouldn’t stop Emma from recognizing him, stood not too far away from him, chatting with some people Emma didn’t know.

Now, Emma was polite (though Phobetor of all people would definitely disagree with that) and didn’t interrupt, but the second the strangers left Emma sidled up beside his old friend, shadows moving around him and announcing his presence before he’d reached the other god.

The first thing Emma notices is the noise, the second is the movement.

Jigoku isn’t empty or boring by any means, but this place... this place is alive. There’s warmth, there’s so much color, and so many people fluttering around and talking to one another. For a few moments, Emma stops and watches, standing at the side like a shadow.

Until he notices someone looking at him. That’s unsurprising, considering the way he looks, and he tilts his head and waves at them with one lace glove-covered hand before walking over. His social skills are probably a bit rusty, but with a bit of practice it’ll be fine, right?

“Hello,” he says in Japanese, then remembers that this island is linked to South Korea and corrects himself, repeating the greeting in Korean. His gaze wanders over the person in front of him, then to the many other people around them, many of which are sipping bright drinks. “It’s very... colorful here,” he comments with a soft, raspy laugh. “I almost forgot that Earth is like this.”

❝ Summer? Gala? I have just the outfit. ❞

- Emma, probably

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