[ The war god snaps the words, brittle and full of something syrupy-dark. Madness, brought to boil by the whispered words of apology from a woman he doesn't know; it is gone, he knows. Heliopolis. Kemet. Isis and Nephthys, Anubis -- even, Horus. They are gone, wiped from existence and it is he, the evil god beloathed by all that is here. In a place that harbors some mote of potential to repair the world, or damn it all for just one thing he yearns for most, it is Set, war god and scion of disorder, who has the ability ( the RIGHT! ) to choose.
He wants to laugh. He wants to let the hysteria sentiment burn through his chest and warm his limbs -- do they see now? their judgment was truly for naught! they are dead, and he remains! ]
I am, Kemet's god of war. I am Set, ruler of the desert, king of the Ennead. I lived, and they died. What can I not do? Tell me what it is, you think I cannot do?
[ He finds his way onto a knee, his other leg curled under him - springlike, ready to lunge if he must. The words he whispers are as much a warning as they are a mad plea: ] Go on.
no subject
[ The war god snaps the words, brittle and full of something syrupy-dark. Madness, brought to boil by the whispered words of apology from a woman he doesn't know; it is gone, he knows. Heliopolis. Kemet. Isis and Nephthys, Anubis -- even, Horus. They are gone, wiped from existence and it is he, the evil god beloathed by all that is here. In a place that harbors some mote of potential to repair the world, or damn it all for just one thing he yearns for most, it is Set, war god and scion of disorder, who has the ability ( the RIGHT! ) to choose.
He wants to laugh. He wants to let the
hysteriasentiment burn through his chest and warm his limbs -- do they see now? their judgment was truly for naught! they are dead, and he remains! ]I am, Kemet's god of war. I am Set, ruler of the desert, king of the Ennead. I lived, and they died. What can I not do? Tell me what it is, you think I cannot do?
[ He finds his way onto a knee, his other leg curled under him - springlike, ready to lunge if he must. The words he whispers are as much a warning as they are a mad plea: ] Go on.