[When Sebastian draws closer, there is some part of Liem that tenses, as if in readiness of some danger yet to show its face, born from his present vulnerability and the instinctual pull of a predator toward floundering prey. He finds no comfort in the handsome face and the genteel speech, regardless of the presence of the makeshift eyepatch that disguises the ruined eye. Alone and spiralling into despair is never a good situation in which to be — but with a devil companion, it is abjectly worse.
And yet, Liem does not take Sebastian up on his offer. Perhaps it is the knowledge he has of Set's deal with Silco, and thus with him. Perhaps it is that the depths of his misery have made him desperate for any voice that might break through the quiet. Perhaps in his heart, he is tired of caring for what is wise.
Regardless of the cause, he cannot muster the will even to send his visitor away. He can only regard him distractedly from his place huddled on the ground, clutching at his knife as if it is an instrument of comfort instead of injury.]
It reminds me very much of my welcome to Horos.
[The hours of isolation spent in guilt and self-loathing had been features of that experience as well, right down to his helpless inability to prevent his misery from spilling out of him to infect those that drew near. Though of course it is not entirely the same. But if the flavour of his loneliness and his despair is slightly different, born from thoughts of abandoning his world rather than it abandoning him, it is similar enough that it doesn't much matter.]
But what is life if not a parade of such tests?
[At least for one such as him — a creature who was born to thrive in the dark, like a dead thing, thirsting for the blood of the living, but who insisted upon living like a human man: in the sun. It is not the vision of his world's demise that makes him so wild with despair, but the feeling, in the depths of his weakened and wearied soul, that not only will his struggles never end, but that they will wear him down and rob him, inevitably, of every principle he has. He has no choice but to bear it, and yet, in this moment, he simply does not have the strength.]
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And yet, Liem does not take Sebastian up on his offer. Perhaps it is the knowledge he has of Set's deal with Silco, and thus with him. Perhaps it is that the depths of his misery have made him desperate for any voice that might break through the quiet. Perhaps in his heart, he is tired of caring for what is wise.
Regardless of the cause, he cannot muster the will even to send his visitor away. He can only regard him distractedly from his place huddled on the ground, clutching at his knife as if it is an instrument of comfort instead of injury.]
It reminds me very much of my welcome to Horos.
[The hours of isolation spent in guilt and self-loathing had been features of that experience as well, right down to his helpless inability to prevent his misery from spilling out of him to infect those that drew near. Though of course it is not entirely the same. But if the flavour of his loneliness and his despair is slightly different, born from thoughts of abandoning his world rather than it abandoning him, it is similar enough that it doesn't much matter.]
But what is life if not a parade of such tests?
[At least for one such as him — a creature who was born to thrive in the dark, like a dead thing, thirsting for the blood of the living, but who insisted upon living like a human man: in the sun. It is not the vision of his world's demise that makes him so wild with despair, but the feeling, in the depths of his weakened and wearied soul, that not only will his struggles never end, but that they will wear him down and rob him, inevitably, of every principle he has. He has no choice but to bear it, and yet, in this moment, he simply does not have the strength.]