[Perhaps Liem has begun to anticipate Set a little better, or perhaps the warmth still lingering on the skin of his brow has shaken loose his inhibitions, because when the god slides an arm around him to pull Liem against his side, not even a peep of surprise escapes him. He allows himself to be urged down onto the floor of the chapel, to sit there in intimate conversation like boyhood companions: one blood-red god and one pale, wilted priest.
Their aspects are far removed from one another; the comfort of their companionable intimacy can only provide a temporary balm against the incessant simmer of Liem's discord. But in the moment, the closeness serves to quiet the restlessness that has been gnawing at him for weeks now. That alone is a service, and one he appreciates as he sits next to Set on the floor of that sweltering church.
He had thought it strange, at first, that Set would come to him and insist on offering his support, his companionship. Was there not enough to keep even one such as him busy in this world at the end of worlds? But, cut off from his land as the god is — as they all are — perhaps the weight of his solitude drives him to seek others in this way.]
I don't quite know. That is not a question I have often been asked, nor contemplated the answer to.
[He is used to having colleagues, allies, to work alongside. But he has often found that the best way to preserve his working relationships is to keep them from becoming too close.]
It is the feeling of being watched, more than anything. I must often rely on the shade in the streets, because of the waning of my magic here, and my sensitivity to the sun. And, as you can see, [— he lifts one edge of his cloak, holding the fabric aloft to block the light filtering through the screen of vines; but of course, the dappled light thrown over the floor remains unimpeded —] I have no shade of my own. So I must return to the shadows, and that unsettling feeling. I feel stalked.
no subject
Their aspects are far removed from one another; the comfort of their companionable intimacy can only provide a temporary balm against the incessant simmer of Liem's discord. But in the moment, the closeness serves to quiet the restlessness that has been gnawing at him for weeks now. That alone is a service, and one he appreciates as he sits next to Set on the floor of that sweltering church.
He had thought it strange, at first, that Set would come to him and insist on offering his support, his companionship. Was there not enough to keep even one such as him busy in this world at the end of worlds? But, cut off from his land as the god is — as they all are — perhaps the weight of his solitude drives him to seek others in this way.]
I don't quite know. That is not a question I have often been asked, nor contemplated the answer to.
[He is used to having colleagues, allies, to work alongside. But he has often found that the best way to preserve his working relationships is to keep them from becoming too close.]
It is the feeling of being watched, more than anything. I must often rely on the shade in the streets, because of the waning of my magic here, and my sensitivity to the sun. And, as you can see, [— he lifts one edge of his cloak, holding the fabric aloft to block the light filtering through the screen of vines; but of course, the dappled light thrown over the floor remains unimpeded —] I have no shade of my own. So I must return to the shadows, and that unsettling feeling. I feel stalked.