[ Sebastian must have been aware that, were Hayame to seek to stake her 'claim' upon his life, Set would not hinder her. He would not actively assist her in the moment, but he would not stand in her way. Had she succeeded, he was plenty prepared to step in to salvage the demon's shard — on the grounds that Sebastian still 'owed' him, and whether she liked it or not, denying him what he was due would schism them. ( Maybe, Sebastian, you ought to have died just for that. )
He fully expects retaliation. Since the moment he'd begun to fraternize with the demon, Set had known that one day, Sebastian would spring a trap of his own design upon the war god. A patient, meticulous trap. Half the fun was in preparing for it, stoking the flames of their strange engagement, teasing scraps of information from him like a slowly-building puzzle. And in doing so, he gets what he wants: the hint of anger, in the form of a bruising blow high upon his back. It aches, it rattles him at his knees and forces him to grab at the root he's nearest to, lest he collapse to the ground with a strained sound. Pain sucks, when demoted to demigod. Worse yet, a powerless demigod.
Even if he expects it, the indignation that accompanies such mortal agonies causes him to whirl on the black figure he had caught glimpse of. Silco is somewhere nearby, he assumes — it would be dangerous to leave him unattended, in such an enclosed space. Set sneers, baring his kitten teeth ( reduced, by the purging of Discord earlier in the month and the tenuous hold he has on Meridian's energy ) meanly. ]
no subject
He fully expects retaliation. Since the moment he'd begun to fraternize with the demon, Set had known that one day, Sebastian would spring a trap of his own design upon the war god. A patient, meticulous trap. Half the fun was in preparing for it, stoking the flames of their strange engagement, teasing scraps of information from him like a slowly-building puzzle. And in doing so, he gets what he wants: the hint of anger, in the form of a bruising blow high upon his back. It aches, it rattles him at his knees and forces him to grab at the root he's nearest to, lest he collapse to the ground with a strained sound. Pain sucks, when demoted to demigod. Worse yet, a powerless demigod.
Even if he expects it, the indignation that accompanies such mortal agonies causes him to whirl on the black figure he had caught glimpse of. Silco is somewhere nearby, he assumes — it would be dangerous to leave him unattended, in such an enclosed space. Set sneers, baring his
kittenteeth ( reduced, by the purging of Discord earlier in the month and the tenuous hold he has on Meridian's energy ) meanly. ]I thought you enjoyed a challenge, Sebastian!
[ owie ow ow ow ]