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The unsundered often did not get along. It was certainly hard to retain the same kind of relationship they would have had when they considered each other 'coworkers' or 'colleagues.' While being the last three of your kind (four if you count Her.) brought them close together just after the world had been ripped asunder, now it only forced them to grow apart. And Emet-Selch had his own opinions of Lahabrea and Elidibus, and he was sure that the two of them had their own opinions about himself--and largely negative at this point. Regardless, the three do their best to never get in another's way, for all things considered, they have the same end goal.
Emet-Selch often pitied Elidibus. He was so young when the Final Days swallowed their world and She carved their world in fourteen. Emet-Selch had been grown and in the Convocation for a long time. Though he hadn't gotten to experience everything life offered then, he had certainly experienced some. Elidibus was freshly entering the adult world and had been putting forth his best effort for the Star for only a couple of years before it all happened. And this has made watching the cracks form in his mind even worse.
Elidibus has come to Emet-Selch many times with questions, little quandaries, to be reminded of time past. At first, Emet-Selch had been rather sympathetic to these lapses in his recollections. After a while, he became aggravated and irritable every time the emissary appraoched with the same question for the 10th time. And his emotions slowly rounded back around to sympathy, but more closely rooted in depression. The Elidibus he knew was mostly gone.
Emet-Selch stands with his head hung low, still and unmoving in the Chrysalis. Only moments ago, Elidibus was here to confirm a few facts: The world was once whole, the world was good, and his people had need of him then and now. Emet-Selch takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He closes his eyes and contemplates his feelings.
Envy.
Yes, Envy. That was the feeling biting at his nerves.
Elidibus must be in a special type of hell fighting through the fragments of memories already leaving him. But Emet-Selch is in his own.
He quits the Chrysalis and opts for his recreation. He walks the streets slowly, the sound of his footsteps the only thing there to comfort him. He gazes out at the tall skyscrapers closing in around him. It is just as it was. If not for the algae clinging to the sides of structures and the depressing darkness the city is enshrouded in, this would be Amaurot. From the ashes of his beloved city, he meticulously pieced it back together. Everything here has his touch of magic, every stone, every perfection and imperfection was decided by his hand.
The shades that populate it too, he has remembered faithfully. He was not as social as Azem, so he cannot remember the personality and mindset of every person he met in the city, but each shade has been drawn from the memory of a person, and his recreation is as faithful to that person as the version of them that existed in his mind would be. He cannot fault himself for not recreating people perfectly, for how well can one know the mind of another?
He swallows.
There was but one mind he knew well enough to recreate, a shade he did not dare visit for the time being.
Emet-Selch remembers. He remembers it all. And for that reason, each shade here might hold the personality that he thought to give it, but they all look the same. The grey robes and blank faces are the closest he could bring himself to create the beloved dead.
Emet-selch can recall when he decided to create Hythlodaeus. A pained decision, but he desired the comfort of the simulacrum, something to ease the pain of his memories. But when he first spun his creation magicks, He started to weave that beautiful smile and those gorgeous locks of lavender. When Emet-Selch saw the dainty, well-cared for fingers that he used to hold in his own, he banished the creation back to the aether from which it was made, quickly erased it from existence and started anew, heart pounding all the while.
Emet-Selch wishes he could forget, and that is precisely why he envies Elidibus.
Emet-Selch remember the exact shade of Hythlodaeus' hair, the brightness in his eyes and the imperfections in his skin. He rememebers the way Hythlodaeus would pluck and tweeze at his eyebrows to get them in the perfect shape. The way Hythlodaeus dresses and undresses in the morning and night is seared into his mind. The teasing look in his eyes, the manner in which he would crawl into bed and collapse into Hades' chest.
Perhaps this would all be easier if he could simply lose the memories. If he could forget the warmth of Hythlodaeus' lips against his own, the chuckle under his breath when they break the kiss and the hushed words of love and affirmation given plenty in his ear. The way his hand would caress Hades' face. Emet-Selch can never forget the silly way Hythlodaeus would walk when he was hurrying to get somehwere, the skip in his step when it was something he was excited to do. The bags under his eyes after a long night's work approving and disapproving concepts. The shakiness in his voice when he was nervous, the excitement when he overcame a situation.
Emet-Selch cannot forget what it felt like to love and be loved by Hythlodaeus.
And in this moment, the weight of love lost is too much to bear. Emet-Selch's legs carry him to where he knows he must not go. He pushes open heavy doors and collapses at the feet of the shade waiting there. As his fingers clutch onto the fabric, tears start rolling down his face without thought. A cold ghostly hand comes to rest on the top of Emet-Selch's head, gently running fingers through his hair like he used to do.
"It's okay." The shade speaks.
"I miss you." Emet-Selch sobs.
"Shh.." The shade tugs at the golden bits on Emet-Selch's shoulders, guiding him to rise from the ground and bury himself in the shade's chest. Emet-Selch cannot help but wrap his arms around the shade and cry harder than he has in years.
"I love you. I cannot bear this any longer." He wails.
"I know, my love." The shade responds. "It will all be ok." It comforts.