[ Lightly, Set presses the pad of his finger to Vash's mouth.
The universal sign to hush now, delivered by someone both maddeningly audacious and deeply fragile. There is a wealth of otherness to Set, at any given time; a mind that does not work quite like anyone else's, foreign in the way it considers things and concludes others. There is a patch of greenery, of tamarisk surrounded by small succulents, slender palm trees that cast shade across the arid ground muddied at the center by the groundwater that has found its way to the surface. Dug up, perhaps, by countless hands that had worked to enlarge the hole. The scent of marjoram and licorice in the air, the darting figures of omnivorous bustards flashing throughout the foliage and sands. ]
Nothing is different.
[ It cannot be, or he will have less reason to remain with Meridian. ]
I have simply traveled further than ever before, and need but turn back on my path to return home.
[ Though he straddles the line between Meridian and Zenith, his belief in Meridian's ability to accomplish what they say they are able to is without question. He has seen the rise and fall of worlds, the decimation and recreation of life. His own family laying their hands upon their realm to shape, reshape and perfect it; some part of him instinctively knows that the weight of his world remains tethered to reality. He just — knows it is. Even if he would persist, without Egypt, he just knows something would be different if it were truly gone.
Eventually, he will go home to that place. To the man that Vash knows he fears ( and loves, shamefully ), and the punishment that awaits him. For now, he can wrap himself in delusion and partake in that fleeting, fragile thing known to some as 'friendship'. ]
So, nothing is different. But, I will concede that — many things are new.
no subject
The universal sign to hush now, delivered by someone both maddeningly audacious and deeply fragile. There is a wealth of otherness to Set, at any given time; a mind that does not work quite like anyone else's, foreign in the way it considers things and concludes others. There is a patch of greenery, of tamarisk surrounded by small succulents, slender palm trees that cast shade across the arid ground muddied at the center by the groundwater that has found its way to the surface. Dug up, perhaps, by countless hands that had worked to enlarge the hole. The scent of marjoram and licorice in the air, the darting figures of omnivorous bustards flashing throughout the foliage and sands. ]
Nothing is different.
[ It cannot be, or he will have less reason to remain with Meridian. ]
I have simply traveled further than ever before, and need but turn back on my path to return home.
[ Though he straddles the line between Meridian and Zenith, his belief in Meridian's ability to accomplish what they say they are able to is without question. He has seen the rise and fall of worlds, the decimation and recreation of life. His own family laying their hands upon their realm to shape, reshape and perfect it; some part of him instinctively knows that the weight of his world remains tethered to reality. He just — knows it is. Even if he would persist, without Egypt, he just knows something would be different if it were truly gone.
Eventually, he will go home to that place. To the man that Vash knows he fears ( and loves, shamefully ), and the punishment that awaits him. For now, he can wrap himself in delusion and partake in that fleeting, fragile thing known to some as 'friendship'. ]
So, nothing is different. But, I will concede that — many things are new.