#salveticn

(    🐇   )              ❝     ELIDIBUS    .  .    DO YOU    really believe that sacrificing half of our star will solve    THE FINAL DAYS    ?     ❞     her jaw clenches as she asks,    tone sharp as she keeps her gaze away from the other member.    she’s grown distant with the convocation as of late,    not having bothered to quell rumours of her    POSSIBLE DEPARTURE.

It has been a very long day. The evening sky is violet, soft, and in the face of it Hythlodaeus feels he can breathe for the first time in hours. From his seat on one of many street benches, he can see the last of Amaurot's citizens heading back to their homes and hear the soft hum of their conversations. His day was so quiet, spent in near silence as he pored over his work at the Bureau. He feels less alone hearing them now, though none of it is shared with him. In a city like the capital, standing beneath the towering spires and beside so many whose very efforts shape the Star, it is so easy to feel small. Insignificant even, if only for these few moments he lets himself think about it. This is when he catches sight of Elidibus⁠— When the sky begins to darken and the stars seem more like glaring eyes than evidence of life to Hythlodaeus.

           “Well, if you didn’t mind... I wanted to take you with me on my travels. I have received word that the textiles I have sought for various projects have arrived in the next town over, but they are unable to complete the journey to deliver them.” In his arms is a binder full of documents meant for various other projects. They were scattered in such a way that it looked like a hurried pile within his grasp, as if he had somewhere he needed to be and couldn’t spare the time to organize things.. Hades would, of course, organize these binders later when he had a more solid surface to work upon. This was not that time, however. Something told him that there was something odd going on in that town.

                                    And how does he figure this?

His exchange of goods for these textiles was not the only one that was ‘stopped’ within this town. Something was sitting heavily within his stomach and it was coming from theidea that a gang of thieves could be living right beneath the Convocation’s noses.

   “Elidibus! Tis good to see you again my friend!” Hythlodaeus grinned, waving happily at the younger and beckoning them to come and sit on the bench he was currently perched on. 

The previous Fandaniel surely would have been proud of Hermes for his decision to rise to the occasion, but also surely would have chided him for his heart not being in the right place. That Hermes had chosen to become Fandaniel to APOLOGIZE. To Meteion. To all the other concepts who had been reduced to aether in his name. To the grief in his heart. But not to himself -- come hell or high water, Hermes is incapable of forgiving himself.