[ 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

[diversionist]

[ no promises earns a flicker of humor, here and gone. like: that's fair. but the frustration catches cassian by surprise. he opens his eyes and begins to lift his head even before set's exhaustion makes itself manifest. but set goes on, before he can answer, and is met, when he looks up, with a rueful little smile. he'd be tempted to assuage potential hurt feelings over the secret-keeping, if set didn't move past that so easily with the casual gifting of this precious little plant. didn't anticipate the first protest that rises to his lips, and swat it away like it's nothing. cassian can't imagine that this little plant won't be dead in a month, but it's set's to give and his to watch over, now. he'll make an honest effort. of course he will.

set lays down on the lounge, now looking more the invalid he'd claimed to be, and cassian doesn't stir. you can stay a while, was the offer, and he can feel his discord draining even for set's apparent exhaustion. tempting, too, to protest the god spending strength like this; but that's more likely to cause offense than do any good. and so,

instead, cassian lifts his eyes to the suns-bright sky, and it hurts less than it had an hour ago. the truth is that there are more things he never forgot how to do, old memories and mannerisms that have slowly resurfaced in kenos. he leans his weight back, carefully balances the pot one-handed against his lap, and reaches for set with his free hand. his hand cups to the god's head, and he strokes his hair with circular, soothing motions. as if set were more child awakened by a nightmare than an unknowably vast creature, god of places cassian has never seen. his palms are rough, hands calloused by years of fights, but his touch is gentle. ]

I know you weren't wrong, [ he finally answers. ] You would know, if I thought you were.

[ that flicker-flash of humor, again. cassian andor doesn't struggle with expressing himself when he thinks something is idiotic, they both know this. ]

If you say it was worth it, I trust you. [ and he does. he still trusts john gaius, for his initial anger at hearing about this. conspirators, indeed. ] But there is nothing I would trade your life for.

[ the zenith said to the meridian: contradictions. but even as he says those words, he finds them some of the truest he's ever spoken. that's why he's upset to hear what happened to set. that's one reason he chose the person he did, from that godforsaken list. that's why he can't tell set anything now. but maybe, here on this sunlit terrace, they can leave aside contradictions for the time being. they can take some comfort, some rest, that they both so desperately need. ]

[redsoil]

[ Dangerous as it is, to begin to return to his needed rest in the company of someone who belongs to a faction that opposes his goal — Cassian is a protector, who vowed to heed his anxieties and defend him from someone who might even be undeserving of his mistrust. There is an ache deep inside of him, old phantom pains that emulate the violent death he had caused himself in the hopes of reaching deep into the soul of the world to make a connection impossible to any other save for himself and John Gaius in tandem.

So, when he feels Cassian's hand begin to stroke through his hair, and hears those words accompanying them — the sigh he breathes is one of relief. Because he can tell him now: ] I sent you and Jyn, and Gen, to Zenith. I gave you what you needed, and I lost — we lost because of me.

[ It has been a weight upon him, since that time. Three bodies and hearts to the count. Three who turned the tide against Meridian, and won Zenith the Oracle. No matter those who were Corrupted and forced to Zenith, no matter that he betrayed his own word and tore two Zenites to the side of light. He was why they lost, he knows. Set looks up, through bruise-darkening eyes and winds his hand around Cassian's knee. Claws pricking briefly at the muscle bunching there. ]

To know, I still have a hold on your heart... helps, with the shame. And the failure.

[

A lighting-fast smile, before his brow wrinkles under the strain of being awake. Before he tucks his face against Cassian's hip and wars with his need to rest. Why? Why must he be so tired, he will miss out on so many things like this. ]

You trust me, as I believe in you. Whether you cannot say or will not say what you did, you must know I do.

[ And if he tires quickly after that, falling still and feverish into a needed nap — well, the faint animal-rumble ( the purr ) that betrays him at the touch of Cassian's hand will be unknown to him. ]

🎀

[diversionist]

[ cassian keeps his hand moving, even at that surprising confession. it had never occurred to him to think that set would blame himself for meridian's loss. he'd realized, of course, that his harmonization — and jyn's — contributed to zenith's win. but "winning" had factored so little into why either of them did it. they'd had no choice, under the roots, but to pick a side. zenith had made sense — he'd needed zenith — and, just as important, it'd helped people. he'd taken that silvered, moonlit corruption tormenting set, and vash, and quetzacoatl, and had drowned himself in it. he'd been able to send the three of them back to meridian, where they belonged. cassian, please. that it had earned zenith the oracle had been incidental, accidental.

and why would he dwell on it? what was done was done. jyn had never given a damn about the factions at all. and gen...cassian only knows bits of gen, encountered an awful turning point in his unhappy childhood, but enough to worry him. enough to leave him unsurprised that the boy had wanted zenith, instead of a restoration of the world that had failed him so profoundly. and it is not a surprise, that set had sent a few of them on their way to the other side, despite everything. but it is confirmation: following his own convictions just as surely as he urges them to do.

he could say, it wasn't your fault. he could say, don't blame yourself. he could take the promise of faith in him, that he believes despite all the reasons he shouldn't, and confess. he could, but he does none of those things. ]

I owe you one.

[ he murmurs, finally, as sleep claims the god. cassian keeps stroking set's hair long after his breath evens out, and his own hand tires. he stays, and keeps a vigil over set's slumber.

and when set wakes — he will be alone. but he'll also be swathed in yet another light blanket, fetched from inside. the plant he'd gifted cassian is nowhere in sight; and in arm's reach is a covered, still-warm bowl of soup. ]