[ During the show, he is still — a hovering presence, warm and vibrant against Liem's side; holding his hand, bowing into his space, the soft ends of his hair tickling along Liem's cheek, the flash of pale leg as he shifts a little during moments that seem to affect him in some ways. Music is Hathor's domain, and Set is more accustomed to warsongs in camp, upon the field. To find some enjoyment in a musical showing about a woman who had sought the highest point, only to be felled by her own mortality.
The only reason a deathless being such as Set comprehends death, is on a metaphorical level, on the level of it being a necessary aspect of mortal life, and the degree to which he experiences the deaths of many, many souls — one, after the other, imbuing him with the knowledge of mortal pain, mortal ends. The songs are what he likes most, if he had to pick something about the theatre. Sometimes the things that mortal life focuses on are inane to him, confusing and frustrating, but the music they create — celebratory, mournful, indignant? he can like those things.
He pauses in the crowd, and does not draw aside. In that, he is so unapologetically himself — willing to stand in the midst of the natural flow of theatre-goers and force them to flow around the space where he stands, with Liem. To hear that the man enjoyed it, though? His smile is small and quick, eyes flashing with obvious delight, as if the reward for doing this thing properly is enough to sate himself on. ( It is not, really. Nothing short than everything he can lay his hands upon is enough. ) ]
I was once Egypt's protector, before I was their god of war. I liked to travel. I was able to meet so many other gods, immerse myself in their customs and culture, learn of them and from them. I thought, you might like to share a taste of that with me. For there is so much in this world that deserves to be known.
[ Even as the people mutter and skirt around his edges, he heeds them not. Stepping a little closer to his date for the evening once more, to find his other hand and hold them both — ] You are part of this world, too.
no subject
The only reason a deathless being such as Set comprehends death, is on a metaphorical level, on the level of it being a necessary aspect of mortal life, and the degree to which he experiences the deaths of many, many souls — one, after the other, imbuing him with the knowledge of mortal pain, mortal ends. The songs are what he likes most, if he had to pick something about the theatre. Sometimes the things that mortal life focuses on are inane to him, confusing and frustrating, but the music they create — celebratory, mournful, indignant? he can like those things.
He pauses in the crowd, and does not draw aside. In that, he is so unapologetically himself — willing to stand in the midst of the natural flow of theatre-goers and force them to flow around the space where he stands, with Liem. To hear that the man enjoyed it, though? His smile is small and quick, eyes flashing with obvious delight, as if the reward for doing this thing properly is enough to sate himself on. ( It is not, really. Nothing short than everything he can lay his hands upon is enough. ) ]
I was once Egypt's protector, before I was their god of war. I liked to travel. I was able to meet so many other gods, immerse myself in their customs and culture, learn of them and from them. I thought, you might like to share a taste of that with me. For there is so much in this world that deserves to be known.
[ Even as the people mutter and skirt around his edges, he heeds them not. Stepping a little closer to his date for the evening once more, to find his other hand and hold them both — ] You are part of this world, too.