I don't mock. I write the happy endings I hope you'll have.
[Wasn't that the beauty of the written word, that you could manifest impossible scenarios like that? Byleth had found some solace through it at least, that though he was powerless here, in some fantastical, made up world he would go home and meet Jeralt again, or Hayame would learn to love life, or he would somehow befriend Claude in his world as well or- yes, writing Set happy endings, since the man seemed determined to pull the thorny cloak of pessimistic destiny tight around him, no matter how much it seemed to draw blood.
And Set seemed to be metaphorically haemorrhaging. With the borzoi mask firmly in place, Byleth couldn't help but be reminded of the mangy, half-starved dogs that slinked in the shadows of marching armies, starving and vicious, snapping at any extended hand, be it friendly or malicious. Set's teeth were bared, body taut, trembling, ready to fight, ready to bite, and Byleth, as always when presented with a hurting, cornered animal, felt a deep, incredible empathy.
He held out his hand, slowly. It's okay if he bit, he thought, much like it was fine when the starving dogs bit when snatching food from his hand. They only did so out of fear, and Byleth had a high pain threshold.]
There's just me and you here, Set. Do you want me to show you?
[Because he could see the dip and angle of the borzoi mask, tracking something unseen. Byleth sensed nothing. Sothis, when he mentally elbowed her awake, sensed nothing (and she elbowed him back twice as hard). That didn't mean it didn't exist, but physically it had no influence over them. At the very least, he could try to show him this.]
no subject
[Wasn't that the beauty of the written word, that you could manifest impossible scenarios like that? Byleth had found some solace through it at least, that though he was powerless here, in some fantastical, made up world he would go home and meet Jeralt again, or Hayame would learn to love life, or he would somehow befriend Claude in his world as well or- yes, writing Set happy endings, since the man seemed determined to pull the thorny cloak of pessimistic destiny tight around him, no matter how much it seemed to draw blood.
And Set seemed to be metaphorically haemorrhaging. With the borzoi mask firmly in place, Byleth couldn't help but be reminded of the mangy, half-starved dogs that slinked in the shadows of marching armies, starving and vicious, snapping at any extended hand, be it friendly or malicious. Set's teeth were bared, body taut, trembling, ready to fight, ready to bite, and Byleth, as always when presented with a hurting, cornered animal, felt a deep, incredible empathy.
He held out his hand, slowly. It's okay if he bit, he thought, much like it was fine when the starving dogs bit when snatching food from his hand. They only did so out of fear, and Byleth had a high pain threshold.]
There's just me and you here, Set. Do you want me to show you?
[Because he could see the dip and angle of the borzoi mask, tracking something unseen. Byleth sensed nothing. Sothis, when he mentally elbowed her awake, sensed nothing (and she elbowed him back twice as hard). That didn't mean it didn't exist, but physically it had no influence over them. At the very least, he could try to show him this.]