[ Prove me otherwise, he brassily challenges of Archangel. Set hasn't the power or the prestige to force anyone's hand in any capacity, though. He knows it. In this moment, he is diminished into near mortality; perhaps all he has to him are his teeth, his claws and his intellect, but he will not concede on the remnants of his pride. Having released the strange man and his sly tongue, Set takes it upon himself to actually listen to the answer he's given.
He is, if nothing else, a studious sort. The brilliant red of his eyes narrowed in suspicion and attentiveness, while Archangel offers him insight into his own desires. Salvation. All things. The potential for it, even for the most ruined ( like him, like the god of the scarlet sands who stands before him -- ) and it all sounds lovely. Lofty and arrogant as hell, but lovely enough.
At the least, this man has the audacity of a god. The far-sightedness of one, who stands above all others. Perhaps that is why Set's hands unconsciously find their way to Archangel's forearms, holding them in a bruising grasp as though he subconsciously seeks to turn himself like a sunflower into that radiance. Parts of him hope, but they are so deeply eviscerated by his despair. His brow creases, mouth twitching at one corner into a sneer. ]
You think me ruined.
[ The words rasp in his throat. Some stranger can tell, can see how far he has fallen from grace. ]
How would you save me, then? The path you speak of is, in fact, the one I walk as I make amends for my crimes - but, it is not one where I am saved in the end. What do I need to be saved from, hah!
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[ Prove me otherwise, he brassily challenges of Archangel. Set hasn't the power or the prestige to force anyone's hand in any capacity, though. He knows it. In this moment, he is diminished into near mortality; perhaps all he has to him are his teeth, his claws and his intellect, but he will not concede on the remnants of his pride. Having released the strange man and his sly tongue, Set takes it upon himself to actually listen to the answer he's given.
He is, if nothing else, a studious sort. The brilliant red of his eyes narrowed in suspicion and attentiveness, while Archangel offers him insight into his own desires. Salvation. All things. The potential for it, even for the most ruined ( like him, like the god of the scarlet sands who stands before him -- ) and it all sounds lovely. Lofty and arrogant as hell, but lovely enough.
At the least, this man has the audacity of a god. The far-sightedness of one, who stands above all others. Perhaps that is why Set's hands unconsciously find their way to Archangel's forearms, holding them in a bruising grasp as though he subconsciously seeks to turn himself like a sunflower into that radiance. Parts of him hope, but they are so deeply eviscerated by his despair. His brow creases, mouth twitching at one corner into a sneer. ]
You think me ruined.
[ The words rasp in his throat. Some stranger can tell, can see how far he has fallen from grace. ]
How would you save me, then? The path you speak of is, in fact, the one I walk as I make amends for my crimes - but, it is not one where I am saved in the end. What do I need to be saved from, hah!