[ PERMANENT. ] a (k)atch-all log for kenos

[dawnlord]

WHO: Set ( redsoil ), Bondrewd ( dawnlord ), Drizzt ( twohand ), et. al
WHAT: i actually can't stand month-by-month logs so i'm gonna crush my boys into one perma-log for anything outside of events
WHERE & WHEN: Listed in comment headers, or under the cut.
WARNINGS: General warnings for violence, vulgarity and unethical science. Will update/comment with warnings!


I struggle so hard w/ month-by-month logs, so y'all have to deal with my weird organization...

— [MARCH | SET] GOT NO SHAME, GOT NO PRIDE

Comments

[sterngaze]

[Liem is not sure how to feel about the reassurance that Set offers. He does not feel as though he deserves it, as though he has been living up to his side of their covenant of friendship — one that grows more tenuous by his own actions, as the other man attempts to shore up the weaknesses between them. And yet, despite the god's words, he feels rudderless; he does not know how he could turn around to meet him, even if he were resolved to.

But it does make him smile to see Set wear his earring, small and unassuming though it is. Liem clasps the remaining stud into his own ear, pleased by the wry warning that he receives as the god is examining the new "pair."]

Please do. I think it suits you very well.

[He is not used to seeing studs on Set, just as he is not used to wearing long earrings on his own ears, but the asymmetry of the earrings is reminiscent, in a way, of their own strange relationship. They are two companions who are very unalike; but, together, they are not as asynchronous as might be supposed.

Abandoning his mirror for the moment, Liem scoops his waistcoat up from the bed to button it over his shirt and tie. He feels, in this ensemble, about as ready as he ever will to find out what a theatre date with Set entails. A little nervousness does nip at the back of his neck, but as he well knows by now, looking good goes a long way to instilling confidence. He just needs a nice pair of shoes and some sunglasses to hide his eyes, and he will be golden.]

You flatter me, Set. Were you so grieved, that you didn't get the chance to dance with me?

Everything else I need is downstairs, on the way out, so we need not linger here much longer.

1/2

[redsoil]

[ Liem's compliment is not met without that small, not-insignificant response from Set. The startle, the unfathomable disbelief — something so deeply tethered in him that it might has well be him, not the well-rooted insanity someone who sought, and succeeded, in isolating him. Making an already-difficult man impossible. He turns quickly, as if trying to outrace the fluster that builds upon his own face once more, intent instead on making his way to the door of Liem's bedroom, and downstairs.

Awaiting him, at the bottom of the stairwell, means that Set has recovered enough to shore up his own vulnerabilities and become ruthlessly confident, a beaming smile worn upon his mouth as finally, he answers: ] I did not grieve your lack of presence at the masquerade, for I had every intention of getting what I want from you in the future.

[ He offers both hands to Liem, stretching himself up like a flower to the sun, a long neck upon which a mouth ought to be pressed, a friend seeking the contact of another. He carries nothing with him, Galaniel holds their tickets in reserve at the theatre — for Set has taken a creature of war and hunger and encouraged him to transform into something additional. He never asks anyone to replace themselves, nor their parts, for they can always add on to the foundations, place new things upon their walls and decorate themselves over and over.

He is so envious of mortals, loving and hating them more and more every day. ]

I hope you enjoy tonight, Liem. Already, I would like to do this again.

[redsoil]

[ It is to the Last Dance that Set will escort him, down into the Below and into the lacework alleys of luminous golds and reds, bronze lanterns and gauzy drapes, softly-jingling chains of jewelry and countless stalls, further branches wherein other businesses are displayed and live. It is an open-air environment underground, and Set points out some of his favorite spaces for Liem to look upon, as they make their way with the flow of the crowd towards the cavernous cistern decorated that evening in great greens and creams.

The theatre's seats are hewn from the stone wall surrounding it, with the theatre itself sitting across the shadowy waters of the cistern, the unknown depths of which are lit by the accumulated glow of thousands of candles. Galaniel waits for them at the door, a hulking insect-like entity of branching beetle-like mandibles and horns, feathered like some strange, unholy angel; in full attire, prepared for the show that will go on, he hands them their reserved tickets, the thrum of his mind a calm, dark thing shot through with newfound pleasures.

Have a good time, Master Talbott, he chirrups secretly, Set will not tell you, but he has been planning this for you since the moment the show was selected.

Set takes his time to play around, to cavort among some audience members that he seems to know or recognize. To introduce them to Liem, invitingly and without reservation; as the lights go down for the show, he takes his seat alongside the other man. The long slit up the side of his outfit for the night proves helpful, as he crosses one leg over the other to better lean himself into Liem's space. To gather the man's hand into his own and give him excited looks, thoughtful squeezes when the show begins.

The story is simple — a musical rendition of the historical ambitions of someone who had not sought to become Springstar's Tribune, but was forever heralded as the one who would have been their best. A woman who was the second wife of a political leader, beloved by the city for her faith, her charity, her compassion. A rising star, robbed of her short life, her dutiful and loving life, by illness. And even until the end, she clung to the people she loved — defiant, shattered, impassioned.

With the last notes of her final song fading with the thunderous applause, and the evening's showing concluded with bows and flowers — Set pauses outside of the doors, to look back upon Liem Talbott. Silent, as if awaiting condemnation or approval with the same willingness he has shown at all times. ]

[sterngaze]

[Liem has never met anyone as uncomfortable with a compliment as the god of the desert appears to be. It is familiar enough to him, as a man who has always been shy of his own appearance, but to see reticence on Set strikes him as profoundly odd — especially because of how shamelessly he ambushed Liem with every aspect of this date. He cannot help but believe even more strongly, faced with this strangeness, that the only reason Set has gotten it into his head to invite Liem out in such a way is because he's decided this is what Liem wants.

Well — he is not wrong. Though how he came to such a conclusion, Liem still doesn't know.

He follows down the stairs in Set's wake, shrugging into his suit jacket as he goes. Far from being unnerved by the other man's choice of words, he reaches out to take Set's hands with a slight smile, his cool grasp gentle.]

How very like you.

[It is charmingly on-brand for Set to be so unwavering in pursuit of what he desires. Although Liem is certain this outing has been devised for his benefit more than for the god's, he's still tempted to believe the fantasy that Set is simply pursuing him for his company.

One fussy little pair of boots and a set of dark spectacles later, he is as ready as he's going to be to accompany Set on their date. Liem allows the other man to guide him around the underground venue, glancing curiously at the gently lit stalls and alleys. The atmosphere here is intriguing and inviting both — more agreeable by far than many places he has been to in the Below. If he is struck by a surfeit of free time in the future, he suspects this place may lure him back to explore its secrets more thoroughly.

For now, he has a show to attend with his animated companion. Galaniel's face is familiar by this point, and he manages to startle not at all when the insectoid hulk looms out of the crowds to deliver their tickets to them.

The aside that he delivers is accepted just as graciously as the ticket itself.

The style of theatre favoured here is less ostentatious than that most commonly favoured in his home city. It's a little unfamiliar, but the story is straightforward, and the presence of the man beside him, warm fingers clutched around his own, makes him glad for the company. Somehow, the performance makes his own loneliness feel more stark, so Set's companionship glows like a candle flame flickering bravely against the gloom. He wonders if it is an obvious thing about him, that he has a preference for melancholy tales.]

Set. [His fingers squeeze the other man's briefly, a small, quiet gesture in the midst of the crowded space.] Thank you for bringing me here. I would do this again.

[redsoil]

[ 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.

[sterngaze]

[If Liem had the freedom to pursue whatever life he chose, not simply the one dictated by his superiors in Abadar’s church, he would return to travelling — farther abroad this time, instead of stopping at the borders of his own country. “Travel” was the aspect of his lord’s domains that he had devoted himself to the most, when he was learning what it truly meant to serve Abadar as an inquisitor, and not just an acolyte.

That was the domain concerned with the spread and transformation of civilization in its entirety, unconstrained by city limits or national borders. Much as Liem loved the place where he was born and raised, he had ever been possessed of a curiosity for other lands and other peoples. It was reflected in the uncanny attention with which he noted the words and mannerisms of others, questioning their thoughts and their motives; a good trait in an inquisitor, though not such a good trait to have in a subordinate. Perhaps that was why his superiors had been so ready to unleash him into the countryside as a young man, to serve Taldor’s smallest communities as an itinerant.

It surprises him to learn that he shares this bit of history with the desert god; surprises him more to be subject again to Set’s undivided attention, here in the flow of theatre-goers flooding back out into the passages of the Last Dance. As he stands there with his hands held in Set’s, surprise makes a smile pass, small and soft and transient, over his expression.]

That is, I think, my favourite thing about living in Springstar; the customs of so many different places are kept alive here. But I much prefer the role of observer. As you said: to fade into the wholeness of the spectacle.

[redsoil]

That is what I have come to enjoy, too. This place — and everyone I have met in it — are all from worlds I wish to visit one day. Far more than just lands and cultures upon one realm, there are multitudes within multitudes! To know that now, and to seek a way to traverse them all... I have not had a thought like that in millennia!

[ He had stopped dreaming of travel, when he had been called upon to serve as the god of war. Osiris had urged him to return to Heliopolis, had looked so mournful and dire that even Set's heartstrings had tugged in his direction — sympathetic, perhaps, to the weight of the crown and the throne and the responsibility he had known his elder brother to have. ( What can I do? he had asked of him, alighting upon the sill of the window, the one looking out and far over the Nile in the distance. The gleaming golden sands on the horizon and the beautiful, verdant life springing forth so close to their home. Osiris had sighed so strongly, and looked so regretful: I need you here, he had said, you will be our strongest warrior, in the coming days. Tomorrow, I will announce you as Egypt's god of war, and you will lead our armies against the threat at our borders. )

And that had been the end of his travels beyond the edges of Egypt. That had been the end of communication with the gods he had called companions, mentors and those he would be the mentor to. ]

Springstar's core culture resembles one from my home world, in fact! That of Helles, or Greece, which is intriguing to me. I wonder where your world overlaps with this one, or mine.

[ Merciless, he seems to have found something he is genuinely overjoyed by. Set's delight is — perhaps infectious in its sincerity, the way it brightens at the smallest of thoughts and carries forth with momentum until it collides with something immovable and is dashed from his face. Like he's been slapped, or crushed below a weight. ]

— ah, but enough of that. My focus ought to be you, Liem Talbott. Just the whole of you, aside from talks of origins or dreams. You are all my attention will be on, for the remainder of the evening, [ as he had scolded Liem for speaking of Hayame, now he reflects on his own fumbling. ]

I saw your smile, just now. [ All he has wanted, in return. ] Do you think, I could have it one more time? I have one more thing to share with you.

[sterngaze]

[As ever, Set overflows with passion, with enthusiasm as he speaks of the cultures and interests that have captured his attention. Liem is charmed despite himself; even though the sect that has now subsumed him into itself would make dreams such as these impossible, he cannot help but be endeared for a brief moment by the joy that the war god seems to have for the simple act of discovery. His dream is an enchanting one, and like the other man, Liem too used to hold this fascination close to his heart, before he was obliged to give up on such things for reasons beyond his own power to change.

His world cannot overlap with any others, anymore. How could it, when all of their worlds have been doomed to oblivion?

The abruptness with which Set abandons his train of thought is almost startling. Somehow, Liem had not imagined that there would be more in store for them after the conclusion of the performance; he had not considered the possibility of a "remainder of the evening." Still, he does manage to summon a small, wry smile for the other man when asked. He is, after all, ever eager to accommodate, even in circumstances such as this.]

I did not realize you had yet more planned for me.

[It is enough to make him feel a little flustered, on-edge with nerves he tries to tamp down while Set's hands still grasp his own and Set's eyes are still on his face. He is not used to effort from others — not when it comes to him. Who would bother, when he has never demanded such a thing in order to provide his service, his companionship, even his loyalty? It is unnecessary, a complication that he doesn't understand being introduced just for his benefit.]

What occasion warrants this attention?

[redsoil]

Actually, I had not — planned beyond this.

[ Taking Liem anywhere to eat was out of the question, as both of them had unique diets ( or lack thereof ) and took to dining in privacy, not in the street. Perhaps the most he would have done was an awkward, expeditious walk back to Liem's place to drop him off and provide him with what he needed. Before leaving, again.

Dates are not exactly his strong suit, he thinks. Even his wife had been swept up into sharing a hobby with him when he'd thought to take her out to enjoy something in tandem, though he had brought her flowers. Had listened to her faithfully, whenever she spoke. Like he tries to listen to others, his skill stunted and desiccated with age and a lack of practice.

The crowd is beginning to thin, the divide they have caused by standing dead-center, ruthlessly wrapped up in one another begins to abate. He steps in, closer to Liem. This time, he brings the other man's hands close to him, to set them upon his waist and press them there as if to pin them in place. As he leans down and sweeps his now-freed hands to gather Liem's face between them. ]

There is no special occasion, I just want to share something with you. I think you will like it.

[ A murmur, as his hair tumbles loose over Liem's face, drapes over his shoulders. ]

You see. I found it abandoned, and I made it mine.

[ A dangerous set of words. Particular and distressingly low-spoken, as he dips his face close to Liem's and presses his mouth against his. ]

[sterngaze]

[So transfixed is Liem as Set moves closer to him, as he settles his hands against his waist and reaches up to cradle Liem's face, that he almost doesn't hear the words spoken to him. His attention is absorbed wholly by the arrangement of their two bodies, by the shape of the negative space between them, by the places where they intersect; by the intent look on Set's handsome face, and the way his hair falls around him like a curtain as he leans in.

Liem is well familiar now with the warm desert scent of him and the feel of Set's bare skin beneath his hands, but he still manages to be surprised when that unfairly-soft mouth finds his. His breath escapes him gently, swallowed up by the chatter around them as he yields to the other man's kiss, unthinking. There is still too much space between them; Liem closes it, subsiding against him, cool fingers finding the warm plane of his back. And he kisses him, heedless for a long moment of anything else at all.

But they are still in the middle of the exit at a public theatre, and not even Liem's bone-deep desire to be held and kissed can sustain him for long in such a public place. He feels too many eyes on him, whether they are real or not. He feels too vulnerable and too observed. It takes only a single muttering patron passing behind him to make Liem peel himself from the god, wide-eyed and with that pale, bruise-like flush sitting high on his cheeks.

He says the first thing that comes to mind.]

W— we shouldn't loiter.

[redsoil]

[ He trails his hands up Liem's face, briefly glancing fingertips along the line of his ear, to carefully run them down the long, golden earring he has affixed to the other. The curtain of his hair shields them, for the most part; a waterfall of deep red, enshrouding them as Set looks upon Liem with some sort of deep sentiment. A dark thing that illuminates his eyes, the intense line of his brow even more immovable, as he feels Liem come against him — those cool hands along his bare spine, the latent hunger in him.

Slowly, his eyes flick to the muttering patron, one corner of his mouth drawing back in irritation at them. Like an animal that might bite them, solely because they have threatened something he is territorial over. Instead, he allows the weight of his hands to fall to Liem's shoulders, to trace his palms over the material covering his arms and take in that flushed, stunned look upon his face. With a light jerk of his chin, the flow of his hair like silk across one shoulder, he says: ] Then, come with me.

[ One of his hands, he fits into Liem's own, and draws him back through the Last Dance. In the direction of a dark, occultic-style alley-tavern called the Seven Black Oaths; a place he habitually locates, he keeps one of the large Cornerstones tucked away among the other faintly-glowing stones that make up the backlighting for his gauzily-draped den of patronage. Dark woodwork and damp, natural rock formations make up the back wall of his booth, low benching and low tables make up a curved salon-style "booth" he tends to frequent and it is into that location he brings Liem. All the better, to be able to lay his hand upon the Cornerstone there, to bring him elsewhere.

To reveal to a Zenite these cornerstones? Well, it is because the identity of "Liem Talbott" supersedes his newfound loyalties, in any matter.

The Cornerstone deposits them in the midst of a rich place, a jungle. One that Liem will find deeply familiar — in that it is the Beyond, and in the distance, the soft glow of bioluminescent plants and flora hauntingly frame a formerly abandoned ( albeit still old, with crumbling stonework and broken identity ) shrine. Some animal keens warningly in the distance, and Set straightens from the Cornerstone with an arched look at Liem, before nodding his head toward the shrine. ]

I do not think anyone will follow us out here. Come see — this is my little secret. Abandoned, and now mine.

[ Ruby won't be there if she thinks Set will be, and Quetzalcoatl is loud enough to announce her approach. ]

[sterngaze]

[Liem is glad for the opportunity to move again, away from the theatre's exit and the site of that impromptu kiss. He follows Set willingly through the dimly-lit alleys of the Last Dance, past unfamiliar stalls and establishments, and into the tavern where softly-glowing stone sets the mood inside the dark little bar. He cannot guess what it is here that Set would want to show him; it is not until the god places his hand upon the cornerstone hidden in plain sight that Liem realizes that they are headed somewhere else entirely.

And unlike the twisting tunnels of the Last Dance, the lush forest that greets them at the other end of their journey is familiar. The cool, dark foliage; the faint, pinprick lights of stars above and glowing greenery below; the damp heat of a rainforest at the beginning of summer. The Beyond welcomes Liem home, resonating with the cool dark of his shard in a way that no part of Springstar does anymore.

He regards the shrine for a long moment, taking in the ancient, crumbling facade, illuminated by that soft glow and swallowed up by the forest around it. It is not a shrine that he would expect to associate with a god like Set, whom he would envision most easily amidst pale stone and red desert sand. But the structure looks at home here in the woods, and he can see that although it retains its original form, it has been claimed by someone new.]

It is lovely.

["Like you," he doesn't say, though his lips still feel warm where Set had kissed them.]

Do you often come here?

[redsoil]

[ The shrine in the beyond is rich with his energy, with the flicker of Meridian poured into the native plants but still engulfed by the cool night of Zenith. It must feel like a balm to Liem, who doggedly keeps his property in Springstar ( for how long, now that he has gone — how long will he stay, until he must be sensible and move away? ), and to Set? It feels fine to him in his mind, a latent force that could resonate with him, but because of the intensity of his alignment, it stings like a frost.

Set's shrine is rich with greenery, speaking little of a god who ought to surround himself with red lands — parched soil become soft sands, dead life spilling beyond the boundary of his little domain. Yet, Meridian's power is that of creation and growth, kept in check by its opposite of destruction and decay — he would be better suited for Zenith, in all regards. Perhaps it is why he lingers and lives in the shrine in the Beyond, surrounded by the dark power of the forest.

He walks towards the shrine, toward the veils and curtains drawn over the door frame that holds no door. Sweeping them aside, he peers within as if to check to see if anyone is lingering inside ( Ruby, who keeps it clean / Quetzalcoatl, who naps or comes to visit to talk about her day ), before looking back to Liem. An increasingly intense thing taking over his expression, the line of his bare spine pale in the pale glow of the mosses and native fauna of the Beyond. ]

If I thought of any place in Kenos as my own home, it would be this shrine.

[ He holds his hand out, arm stretched towards the lost priest — his dark eyes, the bruise-dark blush that had settled on his cheeks a memory, but one he wants to revive again. ]

Liem — [ Set holds the curtain up, the interior of the shrine awash in pale candlelight, hinting at structure and comfort within. His voice a knowing admonishment, suggestive without being lecherous about it; a slightly-hesitant thing, by the color that climbs upon his own cheeks. The other hand sweeps down the length of his body, gesturing to the clothes he wears — the dark, Springstar-style robe with the pale, blue trim: ] You should know, that I also wore all this so that you would have something to take off of me.

[sterngaze]

[Liem follows Set slowly towards the gently-lit refuge of his shrine, his steps soft on the forest floor, senses alive for the smells and sounds of creatures moving in the dark. It is not an entirely peaceful experience, despite the glow of candles within and the tranquillity-laden air of mystery that the Beyond is so defined by. He is keenly aware that the presence of such a sanctuary does not make the wilderness around it tame, and some part of him is keen to plunge into it, to stalk through the wilds and see what dangers they have to offer.

He will not, of course. Set has his attention for the night, as the god stops at the shrine's entrance and turns to extend a hand his way: a quiet invitation. Liem joins him at the doorway, glancing within to spy the comforts with which the god has filled his retreat — his home, almost, he has said. And when Set gestures at the flowing fabric draping his form, with that charming hint of a flush decorating his skin, Liem reaches out and captures the sweeping hand lightly in his. A smile flirts with his lips, more comfortable now that they have only each other for company.]

You skipped ahead, you know. [A gentle admonishment, in return.] Usually I don't let my lover undress me until the end of the date.

[He certainly doesn't tend to start with such.]

[redsoil]

[ He draws upon Liem, to invite the other man closer and into the shape of the yawning arch that leads into his shrine — a gently-illuminated place of modest size, not too much larger than a small chapel, or a studio apartment. If not smaller. It is full of candlelight, though; old wax dripping over stone that balances precariously in its own crumbling mortar foundations, a few candles burnt down to stubs and the scent of spice and smoke heavy in the air. There are two glass-less portals upon the walls to allow for fresh air, existing in the place of former windows that might have fallen apart over time — overgrowth pours through them, dutifully trimmed but otherwise left alone to co-exist harmoniously with the place.

It is clean, ultimately. Tidy in a way that speaks to Set's militant origins, but slapdash enough that he is not betraying his chaotic nature. Papers litter the floor in loose heaps, tomes taken from the variety of libraries in both Springstar and Highstorm, a pair of gauzy wings hangs upon one wall, some victors baubles from the Coliseum line a shelf missing a rung or two, and a low, dense sort of daybed sits upon an elevated dais along one wall — laden with cushions and light throws. Likely where Set rests, whenever he does.

That is the environment that he leads Liem into, letting the veils fall closed behind them. ]

Ah, 'skipped ahead'? [ Are they not at the end of the date?

This is where he feels things might fall apart. ] Was there, something you desired before the end, then?

[sterngaze]

[Set’s shrine has a very different sort of feel to it than does the church in Springstar. It is smaller, quieter; instead of being starched and pressed into something pleasing, it is allowed to exist in its own blend of spartan comfort and organized chaos. Liem drinks in the sight and smell of it as they step inside, pleased by the low-burning candles, the books and mementos that betray Set’s part-time residence here.

Perhaps surprisingly, he has never had a tryst inside a holy place before. Those who studied alongside him were too familiar with the truth of his nature to give him that sort of attention; by the time he had been in a position to seek out such things, it had always been much easier and much safer to do so out in the city, away from the prying eyes of the clergy. He certainly had never previously considered visiting a shrine to give his body to the god there.

He had not planned on doing so tonight, either. But now that he is here, he’s hardly going to turn around and leave.]

Other than the gift, and the walk, and the show?

[Liem raises an eyebrow, observing Set’s expression with intent interest. Perhaps he should be more nervous than he is, but the only flutter he feels in his stomach is that of anticipation. Lifting the warm hand that he’s captured in his own, he turns it so he can press his mouth softly against the heat of Set’s palm.]

I want you to take my clothes off again.

[Obviously.]

[redsoil]

[ Truly, the Shrine had become a haven for him. In the way that the Last Dance no longer was, haunted as he had been within the walls and veils and gleaming baubles and fine-enough company by the memory of his kin, the shrine was the place he had refused to taint with Osiris's presence. He had kept it clean, pristine, untouched by the ugly thing inside of him — and now, he brings someone new to into it. Into a place tangled up in latent energies, rivals and companions both, into a place that smells of Set — that dry, desert-neutral nothingness of him coupling with whatever was most pleasing, innately, to the one who would draw close to him.

He warms, curves toward Liem when he hears his agreement. The thing in the pit of his belly new to the seeking of company like this, new to the full, clear-of-mind pursuit of another man — was there not a first time for all things, though? He steps into Liem's personal space again, dipping his head down to find the shell of his ear with murmured words: Could you want me too? Before he slips his hands, both of them gently wrestled free, to the front of Liem's jacket — though he plucks each button free, he does not immediately dash his clothes from him.



Set does slide his hands into the gape of the jacket, to find Liem's waist better now that he has been liberated from a layer. To draw him deeper, and nose his way into another kiss, a proper one. Oddly chaste, as if Set could be content with the artless press of his full mouth to Liem's, before he drags the wet warmth of his tongue across the seam of the other man's mouth — a request to open, open, open. ]

[sterngaze]

[Somehow, despite the start to their date, Liem had not truly expected that the end of it would find him here, with Set murmuring in his ear and and his fingers once again undoing the buttons of his clothes. He hadn't really expected to be desired, despite everything. When was the last time that someone fucked him while they were clear of mind, not dizzied with liquor or reeling from someone else's rejection? This outing has been no drunken whim. And he'd grown so used to the tease of Set's ruthless willingness to touch him that he'd neglected to imagine it might be anything more.

Yet, somehow, it is. A soft suggestion of a laugh escapes him as he lets the hand slide free from his gentle grip, at the murmured question at his ear.]

Doesn't that go without saying?

[Cool hands find Set's arms, skim up, over his shoulders and the sides of his throat to frame his jaw as he tilts his face up to meet that chaste kiss. He is a little shy about it; as ever, that first parting of his lips carries both hunger and apprehension, an invitation — not always accepted — to meet that cool mouth and those sharp teeth with the warm balm of desire. And still his hands cradle Set's face, and still he lets that kiss pull him in, irresistibly, like he's been longing for nothing else but this.]

[redsoil]

[ In many ways, men rapidly became Set's favorite prey to harry and hunt. They are easy to toy with, possessed of more ego than they can reasonably control — all to their detriment. They hunger, they strain for things with rough hands and cruel mouths. And all he knows, is that Liem is not like that. Certainly, he has a hungry mouth and teeth that have buried themselves into Set's throat before, but each and every time his nose has scented the rise of ardor upon Liem's skin — he has sent him away, asked him to go.

It is very gentle of him, and telling, of the manner of man he is. Unlike the others Set has known, has thought of as prey. He thinks of Liem as a pleasant friend, one who he wants to spend time with. Being close with him, being intimate with him, is something he wants — and he will fake confidence in knowing what to do, because he has been a man with a wife for countless centuries. How can it be so different, really? ]

Good.

[ Unreserved in the fondness that crawls into his tone, he laughs into Liem's ear before he kisses him properly. The dip of his tongue into Liem's mouth a skilled thing, where coming to lay with a man as a dominant partner is — well, quite new to him. ( Sorry Liem, he's picturing what he'd do with a woman... ) But, still. He's sweetly hungry for it, because Liem kisses like he's always been waiting to be kissed.

And it's very, very sweet. Unlike what men are, what they do. Set hums into the kiss, hands tightening on Liem's waist a little, to lift him higher and onto his toes. Communion makes for a handy tool, so that he does not have to artlessly break apart to maneuver them. First, he shows Liem his mental map of the interior of the shrine — where all the bits and baubles lay, so he does not trip, and then he brushes his intentions upon him. Asking him to step back and move toward the day bed tucked along the wall, heavy with plush throws and thin pillows — an indulgence, rather than a necessity for a god who does not require sleep.

You are lovely, he compliments faintly, nudging his mouth a little lower upon Liem's own, to draw his bottom lip between his own sharp teeth without seeking to bite him rudely. ( At the least, he knows how he would not want to be treated by a man, and endeavors not to hurt his partner in such a way. Not Liem. ) And so hungry, too.

He does break, in brief, to add verbally, smiling like a fiend all the while: ] You have been so good to me all night. Polite, genteel, a wonderful date — you will let me have my way with you, yes? Liem?

[sterngaze]

[Set kisses him, and everything in Liem tilts just a little closer to him: heart, body, and mind. He murmurs a soft sound against his mouth as hands at his waist grip tighter, pulling him higher to meet the god's kiss. Other concerns are put entirely aside for the moment; his only cares are for Set's skin beneath his fingers, the taste of his mouth, the solid line of his body when Liem presses closer.

Unlike on previous occasions when they have been this close, when he has tried and failed to put Set's scent and beauty and masculine presence out of his mind, Liem's teeth are still unbloodied and his mind remains clear. And unlike on previous occasions, there can be no doubt that the god wants his eager, hungry attention.

He allows Set to touch his mind and guide him back, across the floor of the shrine and toward the low bed lying to one side. Given their intimacy, the link sparks a small thrill in his belly, nerves tangled with an old and neglected longing — for understanding, for connection. It flares and dies just as quickly as it appeared, leaving him flushing pale and bruise-like in its wake, wanting despite his faint embarrassment. Yes; yes, he is hungry.

Of course he is hungry: for everything Set has to offer him. It has been far too long since anyone has kissed him, or touched him, lent him their desire and their undivided attention. Craving throbs low and dull through him, an old ache now suddenly impossible to ignore.]

Yes. [At the gentle scrape of sharp teeth, Liem's hands slide heavily down from Set's face to his chest, splaying there as he regards Set's smile from beneath lashes gone heavy with desire. A small smile touches his lips as well.] I will. I've been quite thoroughly seduced.

[redsoil]

[ Seduced. The word sends a little thrill through him, heat pooling low in his belly and hips as Liem accepts him. The spread of the man's hands across Set's chest, cool where he is a veritable furnace of heat, grounds him as he drops a hand lower. Lower still, until he can drag his fingers across the back of Liem's leg and dig into the muscle just below the curve of his backside. A strong grip, used to spread him open a little further as Set tips him backwards and slips between his thighs as he guides him down to the bed. His other hand remains steady upon his waist, moving only as he descends with the other, to the dip in the small of his back to best keep him from feeling like he will fall.

Set is strong, undoubtedly. There is a fluid, wild ease in which he can handle the body of another adult, every inch of him working in graceful tandem to settle Liem into the bed and curve over him. To mouth along that small smile and push his face along Liem's jaw, sucking open-mouthed kisses across the pale skin, until the cool, bruisy-blue color follows in his wake. It would be easy, to leave his hands where they are and fade pieces of himself to sand to work clothes from Liem's body, but he doesn't — instead, he glides the hand upon the other's waist to the front of his jacket and rolls his thumb and index finger across the buttons of his clothes to free them from eyeholes.

His mouth dips to Liem's throat, nosing aside collar and urging him to stretch up, to bring himself a little more to bare. He holds himself so resolutely, grips himself with a fervor to be small and unnoticed and hidden and all it does it make Set want to rip him open and look at every inch of him. ]

— do not be shy, either. I will treat you well.

[ With all the audacity of a god, he declares it, and brings one of Liem's hands up to the little clasp holding the high collar of his robes around his throat. And Set dives again, this time to slip onto the mattress and leverage Liem's legs apart with his own hips, pushing against him and down over him as he bites toothless kisses along his neck and jaw and over the line of his ear from lobe to tip. ]

[sterngaze]

[Liem can't deny the thrill that flutters through him, quickening in his belly and rippling out, when Set shifts his hold on him and moves him back, dipping him down onto the bed as if he weighed no more than a kitten. He has ever coveted the feel of strong, steady hands on him, of being moved and manhandled and pinned down by the weight of a warm and unyielding body; somehow the potential risk involved, to be at another's mercy, only ever makes his wanting flare more eagerly inside him. He shivers with it, fingers clutching at the fabric over Set's chest as his wandering mouth trails along the line of his jaw.

Still, he cannot help that he remains a little reserved. Even as his hands wander to Set's unclothed back, even as he lets out a soft sigh and tips his head back to accommodate the passage of the warm mouth over his throat, he is so aware, always, of everything he does and every sound that passes his lips. He is not wanton in his acquiescence to Set's advances, but deliberate, even caught up in that soft-edged desire. He cannot truly believe that what he is is what the other man wants. It is what he does, always — which leaves, as ever, the possibility of doing something wrong.

Liem does not think he will. He does not suspect Set of being false. But still, there is restraint in the way he arches beneath Set's body, and in the way his fingers prize the fastenings free at the back of the god's collar, so he can slip his touch beneath fabric and slide the robes further down. His movements are deliberate, considered, just as much as they drip with closeted longing.]

I am in your hands tonight.

[Because Set was the one who came for him; the one who swooped upon him in his solitude and his melancholy; the one who brought him here to share something intimate with him, despite everything.]

[redsoil]

[ Liem gives himself. Is it any wonder that Set's laughter, bubbling from deep within his chest, is so light and carefree, with that confirmation? He is delighted in a way he rarely is during intimate encounters, little recalling the adoring lovemaking with his wife when the more recent interactions were overbearingly violent. Even in Kenos, filling his loneliness and loss with bodies and drugs and drink, he had not found a reason to make such a warm sound — to feel airy and sweet. Like he can take care of someone, in the way he was not.

His hands continue their steady, unaborted work upon Liem's jacket. Loosening it across his chest, sweeping his fingers under the edges of the lapels to reach for his body underneath; where his mouth touches the lobe of Liem's ear, his tongue curls briefly around the line of the earring he'd placed on him. The pair to the one gleaming within his own hair. Quietly, Set rakes his teeth along Liem's pulse, closing his jaw a little to increase the pressure to counter the sweet pass of his hands.

Breathing out, there's a shivery little sound from him at the contact from cool hands along the line of his warm, warm spine. His robes pool around his hips as he sits up a little, rocking up between Liem's thighs, hands dropping to hold them — to loosen the line of his neck and let his hair fall like blood over his neck, his shoulder. A small, warm smile on his face as he fits those wandering hands to Liem's hipbones, aligning his thumb against them, spreading fingers across his hips. ]

Touch me, Liem. To your heart's content.

[sterngaze]

[Over and over, Liem is surprised by just how human Set will seem in small, intimate moments, despite his agelessness and his divinity. He is divine, strange in ways that set him apart from mortals, yet as he drapes himself over Liem and laughs against his ear, he is also a man, full of pleasure and warmth at having the person he desires give himself to him. A familiar, mundane thing, and achingly attractive for its simplicity.

And for once, Liem may notice this all he likes, unburdened by the need to rein in his wanting. He is free to delight in the hot little shiver he feels when Set’s breath tickles his skin, and the hungry impatience roused by the slide of the god’s hands over his silk-covered chest. The noise he makes at the gentle pressure of teeth over his throat is a little wanton, in contrast with the deliberate slide of his hands down to Set’s waist. The gentle roll of his hips pressing up, into the god’s touch belies unspoken greed.]

I should be telling you that.

[He is always so desperate to be touched; even if he were to stay here with Set all night, he does not think he could possibly be sated. But his fingers splay over the other man’s flanks, one hand sliding around to the small of his back. The other finds its way back up to Set’s chest, his collarbone, up his neck and around to slide cool fingers into the hair at his nape. Carefully, still—and perhaps not quite to his heart’s content in reality, because even now he doesn’t let his fingers brush Set’s face, doesn’t let them trace his jaw or his cheeks or the shape of his mouth. Yet.]

x2 smut combo also hilarious that the dialogue parallels??

[redsoil]

[ Steady now, Set begins to work apart buttons and folds of cloth. To push hem and seam and panel from Liem's body, his mouth chasing the glide of rich fabric across cool skin, pressing great biting kisses to the upper, inner arm or across the low dip of Liem's belly. He is everywhere, on the move with a single-minded steadiness that lacks all ferocity one might expect from the war god — he's not violent, simply intent to lay the two of them bare. And indeed, the moment he can toss the last of Liem's outerclothes aside and leave him in just his smalls, Set also reaches down to his own body. Slips the dark robes aside and allows their openness to depart him.

It leaves him bare, wavering in it but a moment ( he has a shy heart, in the end; dominance only comes natural to him with his wife, or in competitive settings, and Liem is not Nephthys, nor is this a fight ) before he lowers his head and pushes his lips flush to the compass-shaped Shard embedded in Liem's body. Willing it to take in the feelings he has in this moment: they are simple and true, made of his desire and his affections for the sorrowful man. The hope that he finds peace and enjoyment in it. The fact that Set, seconds after he thinks about doing it, will slip his hand between Liem's thigh and take him in hand.

Stroking him slowly through the material of his undergarments, head bowed to watch the endeavor with a sort of punched out awe in his own eyes. Like he can't believe he's here, touching Liem, being allowed to. Like he perhaps isn't the person who ought to be tugging down the last layer of cloth between his bare hand and the other man's cock, to fit pale, unblemished fingers around the base of him and draw down, twisting his wrist a little to encircle the head. And repeat. ]

Did I not make my appetite obvious enough, that you think I am holding myself back?

[ girls girls, you're both repressed it's ok ]

My heart's content might be hours of this. Days, maybe. Could you survive that?