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As Emet-Selch’s foot alighted on the pavement of the Macarenses Angle, a cascading crack split the otherwise muted bustle of the thoroughfare. He tensed, readying his staff in a flash of aether, and assumed a battle stance. Loath as he was to sling fire in the middle of his beloved Amaurot, the impending attack landed true – a spray of confetti. And streamers.
“Welcome back!” trumpeted Azem, the single largest party popper Emet-Selch had ever seen smoking in their hands. Knuckles tightening around his weapon, it dissolved into white light taking a few streamers with it.
“Azem, we do not have time for this.”
Emet-Selch’s tone was clipped, his words affording less nonsense than usual from the eccentric Convocation member.
Hythlodaeus appeared second, collateral damage in the party popper ambush. The Chief of the Bureau of the Architect didn’t even flinch - almost as though he expected the shower. To contrast Emet-Selch’s scowl he smiled and spared Azem a wave.
“It’s good to be home. And to such a warm welcome.”
Azem beamed, dispersing all the rainbow debris except that which had landed on Emet-Selch’s person.
“Things in Elpis did not proceed as we quite expected, I’m afraid,” Hythlodaeus offered as way of explanation for the third seat’s dourness.
“As quite expected?” parroted Emet-Selch. “If our memories are to be believed, they did not proceed at all.”
The gaping hole in his timeline was still raw. Still, Hades picked at the fraying edges of the tapestry and this in turn irked him more. The memories were gone. Scrubbed from his soul until it was restored to the Star. Any amount of rumination was wasted effort. So why did he dwell upon something so futile? Did the loss of agency rankle him? Or perhaps the effaced events held some primordial dread which had seeded in a crack between memory and soul, setting in roots which scraped at his subconscious?
It was not fair, but he turned his irritation at the rhetorical questions to his friend.
“What are you even doing here, Azem? I cannot imagine your own assignment so trifling to deal with it is already complete.”
They shrugged.
“I had cause to visit the Bureau for a Concept to assist in my adventure. Imagine my surprise when I heard that both the Chief and the Honourable Emet-Selch were out of town.”
“How serendipitous, then, that you should chance to be here at the moment of our arrival,” supplanted Hythlodaeus with a smile.
“Quite,” sniped Emet-Selch, crossing his arms.
“Sooooo,” drawled Azem, edging their way between their two friends and linking their arms, “there’s only one thing left to do, then, now that you’re back.”
“Return to our allocated duties?” suggested Emet-Selch, cocking a brow. He had not forgotten the muted Hermes lurking behind them like a shade. Would that he could trade places with the reluctant Fandaniel-elect.
Instead, he had the Azem’s full attention. They pulled away and turned on their heel, crossing their arms in a mirror of Emet-Selch’s posture.
“What is it that I always do. Perhaps the most crucial part of the entire journey.”
They looked expectantly between the two men. Hythlodaeus hid a chuckle behind his hand, but Emet-Selch wore his scowl with pride. The sigh that escaped Azem wracked through their whole body before they straightened, ready to inform with a pointed finger.
“Sou. Ve. Nir.”
It was Hades’ turn to scoff.
“If you are expecting any form of your own brand of tacky detritus you are to be sorely disappointed.”
Azem gasped, hands flying to cover their mouth.
“You mean you went all the way to Elpis - you were gone for a week - and you didn’t bring me a souvenir?”
The rejoinder was swift.
“What do you mean ‘all the way to Elpis’.”
Far flung outpost or no, it was simply a teleport away. Not everyone held the inane affection for terrestrial travel as Azem did. The implication that a week held weight in comparison to Azem’s months-long rambles needled the man, too. Did they not know how much he—how inconvenient it could be, to be the supposed resident expert on the current Azem and their whereabouts? Answering to the rest of the Convocation regarding his friend was almost exhausting as the fourteenth themself.
“It was nothing more than an official excursion. Convocation business.”
Hades waved a hand, effecting neither Azem’s presence nor their sentiment. Like a fly they buzzed back into his personal space.
“Technically every one of my trips is an ‘official excursion’. In fact, a boring venture makes bringing back gifts even more important!”
Emet-Selch would not cede an ilm.
“There is no precedent. You weren’t even in Amaurot before our departure, and there was no indication you would be present any time soon after our return.”
This reeked of Hythlodaeus’ brand of mischief. Emet-Selch made mental note to corner the man later. There would be a reckoning for this public humiliation.
“Not to mention you yourself have been there many times before.”
“Irrelevant! There is always something new to find on every trip. Especially when it’s someone else’s first time.”
Azem closed their golden eyes and drew in a breath. Having seen them in combat, their friends knew they were readying a decisive blow. Composure gathered; their eyes snapped open.
“I will never bring you another souvenir. Ever.”
Hades almost rose his hands to the heavens and whooped for joy. If that was all it took, he would have planned innumerable business trips years ago.
Azem straightened their shoulders, cutting an impressive figure against the backdrop of the small crowd which formed in clumps around them. Each was just far enough away to pretend they were having their own discreet conversations, yet the cant of their heads towards the commotion could not be hidden.
“For someone always extolling the importance of social graces, you have neglected one of the cornerstones! Reciprocity!”
There was no such tenet, but now people were starting to stare more than they usually did when Azem was involved. And of the three of them, Hades knew he was the only one to feel the prickle of discomfort from the people’s gaze. Before Emet-Selch could find his footing on the hostile terrain of the exchange, Hythlodaeus swept in to smooth down both his friends’ hackles.
“Considering the innumerable thoughtful mementos our mutual friend has so graciously bestowed upon us over the years it does only seem equitable to return the gesture.”
The lavender haired man set his sights on Emet-Selch. Sunny eyes narrowed beneath the cloud line of his hair. This was not an assist, but a flanking manoeuvre.
“Truth be told, having shouldered the responsibility of guide and travel companion I had thought the onus of such acquisitions fell to you. As for a solution to our current conflict, you know I lack finesse with the more intricate applications of Creation.”
Hythlodaeus gave him that horrible expectant look.
“Ugh, fine,” Hades groused with an exaggerated shrug before stretching out an arm.
Aether swirled over his open hand, first fabricating a miniaturised diorama of Elpis floating over his palm. Water condensed around the model, rippling idly as it was encased in an orb of glass. There was a dusky burst of colour as glitter blossomed through the fluid medium. For a final touch, swathes of cloud ensconced the base of the ball.
“Satisfied?”
Almost faster than even Hythlodaeus could see, the snow globe was plucked from Emet-Selch’s flat palm. The fourteenth’s eyes were downcast as they gave it a lazy shake. With the barest of input the glitter puffed up around the tiny outpost. Azem squinted at the sparkles, before turning their critical gaze to Emet-Selch.
“It does not count when you don’t obtain it at the place you travelled.”
Still, Azem clutched the dome to their chest.
“But I suppose it’ll have to suffice.”
Their head tilted. Hythlodaeus leaned forward and Hades braced himself.
“I sel-pose it’ll have to suffis?”
No sooner had Azem spoken, all three recoiled. Hythlodaeus’ shoulders shook with laughter. Emet-Selch’s lip curled up in a sneer. The Traveller pushed on with haste.
“Nope, forget I said that.”
Ever the champion of diversion, Azem flung their arm wide, grip on the snow globe loosening. It slipped precariously close to the tips of their fingers, almost tipping right over, before settling back into their palm.
Calculated flourish complete, they tucked away the trinket and pushed right along.
“It is actually time for me to return to the field. I may have left my companions waiting at the entrance of an anthawk nest.”
The light of teleportation magic lapped at their feet.
“The queen’s either incapacitated or worse and when anthawks war for succession they swarm. And there’s this quaint village nearby that makes the best biscuits with the hive's honey.”
As the spell engulfed them, Emet-Selch heard a distant ‘I promise I’ll bring you some!’ and bristled.
Incorrigible.
“You have created a monster,” he grumbled, giving Hythlodaeus a sidelong glare. In response he shrugged, unperturbed as ever.
“If only someone had brought back that which could soothe the savage beast with them from our trip.”
Bells later, the freshly proofread and frustratingly incomprehensive report of the events at Elpis was piled neatly on the corner of his desk. Spent, Hades slumped in his chair and weighed up the merits of sleeping then and there. But. There was the other matter. The real ‘souvenir’ he had procured for Azem. Cracking open his eyes, he glowered at the flower. It glowed back.
“That they would lecture me on reciprocity.”
Hades covered his face with his hand. He could not bear to look at it, but he split apart his fingers to take another peek. Since he had plucked it from the field in Elpis it had been inert. Innocuous. Blushing pink.