The shard had disappeared early that day. Disappeared. Not lost. The soul of his dear friend is not something he could ever misplace.

During the day it was tucked within his breast pocket so that it may accompany him where he ventured, and by night he had procured a small pillow for it to rest on as he slept. The shard was his constant companion who was treated just as well as any friend. Perhaps that is why Yima had sought him out the night prior to provide him some cryptic indication of the shard's fate - a mere suggestion that he might be reborn and that they could see each other once again.

After so long and so many disappointments, the ever-resilient part of him that he despises dares to feel a flicker of hope. The day wears on. And like so many times before, hope proves futile.

Emet-Selch resigns himself to work. Somewhere that he could try and bury the crushing disappointment that he'd tried to hide with typical irritation. He still needed to learn more about this world and its inner workings regardless, so the library is the logical place to go.

He snaps up a book from the shelf and opens it without concentrating on the words or content. Each page is noisily flipped even if he does not grasp the meaning behind any of their words. All he can think to do is clench his jaw and try to look busy as the flicker of hope within him begins to sputter out yet again.

Those he loves are always just out of reach.