[ 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

[fishfearme]

[Byleth realised that only when there was no impact from his strike - it was a spectre haunting the Communion, not some sudden, tangible threat taking advantage of their distraction. Set's fear had spurred him unthinkingly, but Byleth didn't feel embarrassed or sheepish for his reaction. He felt a little frustrated that he didn't have the power to dispel threats of the imaginative kind, and just levelled a harsh glare where the spectre had been before refocusing on Set with a considerably gentler expression.]

...I'm sorry.

[Byleth lowered his arm, the only sign of his failed attack being the thin layer of ash clinging to his gloves - ash that immediately stained Set's forearm when Byleth abruptly grasped it: gently, more at an attempt at reassurance, his hand as warm as the sand beneath the desert's stone and leaving streaks of dull grey.]

We may not be rid of him, but I'm sure we can drown him out. I can sing to you, if you'd like, or perhaps I can show you a battle from one of my memories? He may not be able to haunt us there...

[redsoil]

[ To turn to Byleth could be disastrous. Already, he knows he must lack credibility in the eyes of this man, whom calls him "tsundere" and teases him so ruthlessly about matters of love and happiness — yet, Byleth is without malice. Even Set had noticed it about him, had even told him to his face, about his wealth of emotion and deep kindness. It exists without mercy or warning, and takes the form of streaks of dark ash upon Set's own skin and Byleth's fingertips.

He really had tried to burn the thing that frightened him, without question.

Standing in the field of growing crops, the dusting of red flowers — beautiful, but born of something sick and malformed — actually have been what Byleth's flames have struck. A whole pocket of them withered, crumbling to dust and ash and charred remnants, scalded away from where they would grow and choke the life out of Alenroux's food source. The sight of it — ]

Would you help me burn these away?

[ The rest of the blossoms, he means.

Though his arm sweeps out toward the red flowers he's grown, his body shifts into Byleth's space. He aligns himself with the mercenary's hip, as if seeking to find some sort of solace in the space between one arm and the next. Set is not a small man. His chest his broad, his arms and thighs muscled and posture that of someone who can kill in a thousand ways; yet, he folds a little, into the warm line of Byleth's body, and briefly drops his forehead onto his shoulder. ]

That, [ he thinks ] I think that would be a happy enough ending, for today.

[fishfearme]

[Byleth had not expected the request - neither had he expected Set to all but fold against him. Even now, full on contact was alien to him, the way something in his chest would shudder as if even when atrophied into near nothingness, his heart would try to skip a non-existent beat. Instinct, honed to a razor's edge, twitched like a quivering tripwire: but didn't trigger. This was Set, a man who had invaded his personal space again and again and done nothing more than grip his jaw a little too hard. Desensitisation works, a little.]

As you wish.

[He didn't question the request. The blood-red flowers were beautiful, but in the same way that a devastation could be beautiful. The colours were too vivid, too sharp-edged, and jarringly out of place amongst the crops, their stems winding in a near choking hold around them.

It would be difficult, to burn them without harming the crops, but Byleth's mastery over the flames came to him as easily as breathing. Whether it be forcing the fire beneath the earth to roar to the surface, or manipulating heat to boil water without flame, Byleth's precise control was without peer. It was what he defaulted to, when cornered, when in mid-strike, when thinking on how best to disperse the wall of shields before him: flames were purifying, protective and fierce. They had never failed him, never burned him.

He extended his free arm, and a magic circle unspooled before his palm, the divine Crest of Flames flaring like a firebird's wings. Beneath the circle's gentle glow, the crimson blossoms simply... crumbled to ash.

A glimmer of embers, perhaps, but they burned without fire, breaking up under the gentle breeze that swept over the field, carrying the ashes up in a swirl like a mockery of snow. He burned them, right down to the choking roots tangled up under the dirt, even if this was exhausting and made his head pound from the effort of it... but he was satisfied with the result.

The magic circle flickered out and he lowered his arm. The field around them was now dusted in a very fine layer of ash. Some of it dusted their clothes, skin and hair, a smoky scent thick in the air. To Byleth, it was the norm. Comforting.]

...ash is good fertiliser. [his voice was soft, but it still sounded too loud in the eerie stillness. The blossoms had burned soundlessly.] It'll serve these crops well, at least.

[redsoil]

[ It works out, for the better. The flowers that Set has grown through his Meridian-gifted power and his own divinity ought to not be left to strangle and choke the life of the crops of Alenroux; they were poisonous things, born from centuries of effort on Osiris's part, fashioned from Set's own — well, body. They would do no good for anyone, let alone the land upon which they were growing. To see them burnt away by Byleth's skillful application of flame, to see the ash that has been left behind in its wake?

That loosens the knot in his stomach. In turn, he is able to loosen his grasp on Byleth, and put an arm's length of distance back between them, though he keeps his hand clutching loosely at Byleth's upper arm — to steady him? to steady himself? ]

Good work.

[ "Thank you", he might actually mean. ]

[fishfearme]

Thank you.

[It's okay, Byleth will say it for them both. He stayed in place for a moment, watching the ash slowly settle as he took a few deep, bracing breaths. Magic came to him easily, it was just... such intensely precise work like that was enough to stretch his concentration to a point where his brain felt like it had been turned inside out. It would've been easier to simply scorch the surrounding area, but it would've been a shame to burn the crops as collateral.

Even so...

He lifted his free hand to rub at his temple, leaving smudges of dark grey against his skin and staining his hair. He'll need to find somewhere comfortable to lie down for a bit.]

It exhausted me more than it should've, though. The price of poor sleep. [He lowered his hand, turning slightly towards Set.] Is there anything else I can do to aid you, Set? I'm always happy to help you.

[redsoil]

You are, aren't you.

[ Happy to help him. For all his idiosyncrasies, Byleth is a deeply honest man — someone without ulterior motive, and a gentle heart that Set had already recognized. It is why he finds it easier to remain calmed in his presence, and to feel some innate desire to continue to monitor Byleth. To watch over him, now that the flames have taken the sinister vines and their red, red flowers and the lingering presence of his tormenter is at a distance.

He fits his hands around Byleth's elbow, as if to support him and draw him aside. Away from the middle of the field and towards one of Alenroux's many small patches of shade, urging him without words to sit down there. ]

— you can rest, now. And later, you can tell me why your sleep is poor — if we are to take one another as friends, then you need not hide your needs from me. Clearly, you have now seen me at... a low. Rest for now, though. I will return to work, and no harm will come to you while I am here.

[fishfearme]

[Byleth didn't resist Set hustling him over to the shade of a nearby tree, seating himself heavily amongst the grassy roots and leaning back against the trunk. Set stood over him in silhouette, the sun framing his hair like a brilliant halo - it made the red strands seem as bright as rubies - but Byleth didn't feel uncomfortable at him towering over him, as he would with most people.]

Thank you, Set. You're too kind.

[No matter what the man said or believed, or how his pain punctured through him like cruel thorns and drew blood from those around him, Byleth knew that Set was kind. It was rough and coarse, and buried under several layers like a particularly sandy onion, but the kindness was there, thoughtlessly offered without expectation of reciprocation. Perhaps one day it may backfire on Byleth, and he'll gain yet another scar on his back from an unforeseen betrayal, but he'll cross that bridge if it ever came.]

I'll rest easier, knowing you're watching out for me. [He meant it too.] Try not to work too hard, though. If you feel like you need to rest, you can sit with me a while as you recover.