[ He might feel something, for running off with nary a hint as to what drives him forward, but Set is not a creature who regrets, nor feels guilt. As a divinity, he is driven by nigh-hypocritical values and urges, a need to command and serve, a desire to bestow his might upon others as one who exists above them — and someone, who seeks friendship, company. An intensely lonely individual, destined and fated for such things. Driven, in this moment, from Liem's side into the depths of the temple.
The sound of his passage is silent and swift, and he vanishes into shadow and silence.
Within the temple, rays of moonlight cast shimmering, soft-silver relief upon the walls and floor. The scent of incense grows sharper, older, sacred. Energy coalesces within, beckoning anyone around deeper, into the waiting embrace of the inner sanctum; to the belly of it all, where Set has preceded Liem by mere seconds, yet those seconds are enough for him to have reached a conclusion ( no, he cannot reach a conclusion yet, he must observe and seek — ).
There, he stands before the great statue of an unknown female figure. Without head nor arms, her identity ought to be unknowable. Ought to be lost to time, and violence, but Set's arm reaches up. Up, toward the lovingly-carved folds of cloth, and he holds the facsimile of draped gown between his fingers — looking, for a moment, like a young child clutching at the hem of an adult in wonder. ]
— Isis.
[ He sighs her name, something raw and tempestuous building within him. Though his mouth moves, the language that comes out is lyrical and ancient — some sort of prayer, perhaps? Stricken as he seems to be, his mind links to Liem's effortlessly, a boundary felled by the myriad of emotions that have begun to rise within him. Careless feelings, as dangerous and scalding as a force of nature, chaotic and dark ( adoration, homesickness, rapture, despair, wrath and love all at once ).
His mind collapses into naught but the raw vibrancy of unfettered emotion, wordless and within intellect, rolling like a stormfront as he tries to sift through a million thoughts and emotions at once. Like someone who's just been given an infinite puzzle, and cannot rest until it's solved, even without all the pieces. It's chaos, and it dives right into Liem's own mind with adoring, hungry familiarity. ]
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The sound of his passage is silent and swift, and he vanishes into shadow and silence.
Within the temple, rays of moonlight cast shimmering, soft-silver relief upon the walls and floor. The scent of incense grows sharper, older, sacred. Energy coalesces within, beckoning anyone around deeper, into the waiting embrace of the inner sanctum; to the belly of it all, where Set has preceded Liem by mere seconds, yet those seconds are enough for him to have reached a conclusion ( no, he cannot reach a conclusion yet, he must observe and seek — ).
There, he stands before the great statue of an unknown female figure. Without head nor arms, her identity ought to be unknowable. Ought to be lost to time, and violence, but Set's arm reaches up. Up, toward the lovingly-carved folds of cloth, and he holds the facsimile of draped gown between his fingers — looking, for a moment, like a young child clutching at the hem of an adult in wonder. ]
— Isis.
[ He sighs her name, something raw and tempestuous building within him. Though his mouth moves, the language that comes out is lyrical and ancient — some sort of prayer, perhaps? Stricken as he seems to be, his mind links to Liem's effortlessly, a boundary felled by the myriad of emotions that have begun to rise within him. Careless feelings, as dangerous and scalding as a force of nature, chaotic and dark ( adoration, homesickness, rapture, despair, wrath and love all at once ).
His mind collapses into naught but the raw vibrancy of unfettered emotion, wordless and within intellect, rolling like a stormfront as he tries to sift through a million thoughts and emotions at once. Like someone who's just been given an infinite puzzle, and cannot rest until it's solved, even without all the pieces. It's chaos, and it dives right into Liem's own mind with adoring, hungry familiarity. ]