“Listen, It’s pretty stupid to worry about things you can’t change. Just live.”
"Z-Zelos … what’s brought this on?“ He couldn’t have heard Emil’s words from before – No, no, he couldn’t have. There was no way! ”Look, everything’s alright, s-see? We’re alive and living. No need t-to be unhappy.“ He was smiling, though a strain dragged at the edge of his voice in worry for what the red-head might have heard mumble from Emil’s lips prior.
Death was always too close to his friends for Emil’s comfort.
Good question … Tbh, I’ve been writing Emil a while, so give me a little bit of lee-way while I type this out and try to talk it through with myself. ( also forgive me ‘cuz I know I’ll go off rambling )
The Muns’ Studio - ask me questions about the way I play my muse, why I’ve made certain decisions in their story and anything you’d like to know about what I think of them.
Lambda listened attentively, his attention gathered by the spirit’s words far more than most conversations might hold. The being is intrigued by his existence, by what task he performs, what role he fullfills, all these things that Lambda does not know for himself. Perhaps learning about him would help Lambda see his own purpose, but then what did the being know of purpose. His entire life had been spent running from those that hunted him, then simply fulfilling a promise to his partner. For what reason did he have years beyond the span of others?
There was some modicum of respect to hear how this spirit lived. The monsters that humans so easily dismissed, that were hunted and hated for simply what they were had one who existed to care for them, and oversee their creation, their existence… it was a kinder place then the one he knew.
“Interesting,” Lambda finally spoke, a faint smile curling at his lips, the only betrayal of the respect slowly growing for the other. That he spoke candidly of putting certain troublesome monsters out of their misery only helped his case. He did not sugarcoat the truth and it was a rare thing to find one who did not do so. But then this boy was not human, Lambda was the fool expecting him to adhere to his own notions of humanity. "A difficult task I imagine, monsters in the greatest amount of pain fight the hardest to live.“
"With monsters? Or have you also made friends with humans?” Lambda queried. “I can bend certain monsters to my will, but I do not share your gift for hearing their words. I suppose I have met a few humans in my time that I might consider friend. But that was many years ago now."
Emil grew quiet, only nodding to show his attention still rested upon the red-haired individual. Every fight was difficult. For those strongest monsters who were stubborn as well refused his help at first until proven he could truly be an asset. The humans .. He had known quite a few, Emil even knew their off-spring, their children, people who he dearly cared for, even as they grew and grew, and he had to slowly disappear from their lives for fear of their shouts and pointing.
For Emil knew why they did as such, and did not blame
them for their excitement. Yet he would prefer not to be
a reminder of how ‘young’ he still looked.
“Both… m-monsters live quite a bit longer than humans, I’m sure you realize, when they are w-well taken care of.” His hand made a slow motion before a pause and then a silent nod and he placed a thumb and forefinger between his lips. A sharp whistle, a call, a bounding bark, deep and loud echoed, stamping of feet and there stood a giant hound. Much taller than the blonde by this point, large enough one may consider simply riding it instead of walking along side it. “I have n-no need to control monsters. Though I’m afraid … Orion h-here won’t live for another decade or so. “ Indeed, green fur was turning white, long mane of hair speckled with grey all around his muzzle and eyes as Emil gently ran his fingers through his old friends fur.
“The humans I’ve made touch w-with … I make friends with, when I can. Yet most of th-the original friends I have made … are, as you say, many years ago by now.”
Not even Richter or Genis was alive by this point in time. A handful of his friends had forgotten him, old age cleansing their memories, or making them become so fuzzy they believed Emil to be a grandson or child of himself. It had been hard, visiting them, smiling at them as they commented about himself, as-if he wouldn’t know. Yet he had played along … the only one who ever seemed to fully remember him being —
“It’s qu-quite difficult to remember some of my friends, however sad it is. I’ve lived far over ten thousand y-years by this point. But … half of my time w-was sleeping due to my world b-breaking in two, and before that … “ His eyes grew darker, a silence flowing with inward frustration, red rimming his eyes as teeth grit. “Things … were not peaceful, and I was lead t-to believe I could help.” His voice shifted with the statements, forcing back the noise in his throat as Orion made a small whine, much unfitting for something as large as he.
These things lead to betrayal. Nightmares of the day he called out to what he thought was his friend. Hand outstretched, begging for him to realize what this power would do, the ripping apart of something so sacred, something that was his. Yet his power was taken anyway, and with a scream … A smile was quickly made, pulling back a breath in, then slowly letting it out. “It’s a cycle and a ch-chance, if you continue making friends with people who will d-die before you, but … “ He glanced up, smile brighter than before, seeming to have gotten himself under control from the earlier mention.
“ … but y-you also learn a whole lot from the new ones. You help them w-with things you’ve had to face before. It’s … always nice to have friends.”
❝ Are you sure? ❞ And there comes a tilt of her head, dark eyes a little worried in nature (not that she would ever admit to that, of course: She doesn’t even know his name!). ❝ Because if you do need it, the offer still stands, kiddo. Always will. We can make room for you––❞
❝ Dios mío–– You don’t even know my name, d’you? Sorry about that. My name’s Maya. ❞
Emil just stares at her. The words and nature, as if they were so common known it confused the poor blonde. His head unable to wrap about such kindness despite himself showing such equal amount. His head lowers, eyebrows furrow, and he is quick to breathe.
"Emil…“ He responded to her, giving his own name as she gave hers. ”Emil Castagnier. Y-you see, it’s fine. I … I p-promise.“
He would mention his age gap, but he holds his tongue. He would not wish to be labeled as insane yet, not by such a person who could later call a friend.
”I’m n-not going to be here for long, and I’ve got some ‘gold’ to help me get around.“
Or ’gold’ was how gald was labeled here, if he was correct.
his fingers are not soft like a womans, yet they are not hard like a mans.
Emil is gifted with the crafts he weaves betweens fingers that surprise and captivate
For one such as he is not expected to have hands that create beautiful but terrible things. Does one see how he toils? Like a creator, a minstrel to his own music, it was how he operated.
He forgot about swords.
A knife took it’s place, creating a peace of art in the shape of food.
His fingers are not soft like a woman’s
yet they are not hard like a man’s.
These are hands which have known hardship and ease. War and Peace.
Yet for each thing his hands are, there is another part of them that they are not. His hands grasp warmly at another’s, no judgement to hot or cold, instead just a genial twitch of lips, calmly offering acceptance.
For his hands are not judging,
and his fingers are not soft. yet they are not hard either.
“She asked me how babies are born. Relationships is easy; You find someone you like a lot and you make sure to never lose them” Everyone can tell that Ratatosk failed incredibly on how to be romantic and got a gold medal for blunt.
“It was really out of the blue too. How does one even reply to that question without explaining it awkwardly?” He huffed a sigh
"Ah…w-well, relationships aren’t that easy, Ratatosk …“
There were a good percentage of variables, and the other blonde had certainly been meaning towards the more romantic side of such a thing. Yet the mention of babies being born, his face flushed lightly. What would bring this up was certainly a good question, yet he decided to simply let that one hang in the air.
”Well…I m-mean…you’re really good at explaining things straight forward s-so maybe j-just saying … “
Emil couldn’t even begin to wrap his mouth around the word sex without a plumage of red covering his face.
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