There is nothing in this strange, twisting world that might have well prepared him for the sudden realisation that Hythlodaeus is here, right in front of him, within touching distance. They had met one another in the Sea, of course they had, and been summoned by the Warrior of Light in their most final of moments, but this is something different. There is not a death to unite them here but, instead, something warm.

Hope, a flickering light, and the promise of life under his fingertips, and that is enough to cause Emet-Selch some desperate need inside of him - the need to reach for him, to touch him, to feel some kind of relief. Some promise that this is real.

There you are. As if they had simply been waiting for one another across eternity - and is that not the case? Had he not been prepared to join Hythlodaeus and live out their own eternity together, bound in time once again?

Shifting, moving forward, Emet-Selch tries to ignore the flicker of a look on Hythlodaeus' face - ah, he has not seen him dressed so, as an emperor rather than an Ancient. He is himself and not at the same time, and moving forward he hesitates, swallowing his own grief and hurt and hope.

"I am here most often. I helped Elidibus shape it, mould it, as the seasons change."

Slowly, he halts in front of Hythlodaeus, tucking his words and his voice away, burrowing his feelings deep in his stomach.

"I did not expect you to arrive."