[ The irony is, that while Childe thinks gods have nothing to prove and cannot comprehend what it means to be weak, without power or means — by virtue of existing in Kenos, this particular god has had a crash course in such a thing. The irony is, this war god already knew what it was like to be weak, vulnerable and helpless long before arriving in Kenos. That is why he can fight as he does. He knows what it means to fight with the ferocity of one who wants to live, who does not want to be hurt, who has failed to survive and been strangled to death, killed slowly by animals, torn asunder by men.
Set knows, what is is like to have everything to prove. And to be fragile. He has been made fragile, and combats that every damn day. ]
Oh! You will tell me more, will you not? Your master sounds as though they have taught you valuable lessons. After all —
[ The image will leap to Childe, horrendous and threatening and promising: Set, masked and looming in the light. A dark star of practicality and instinct, wielding a hundred weapons crafted from the sands under his feet. Blades, bludgeons, projectiles, melee implements, polearms, and amidst them all — Set, his fists cocked and waiting. Calling for Childe to come to bear against him in every way he desires, with every lesson he has ever learned.
Zenith is not realism, to him. Zenith is a potential route, but making-unmaking-remaking a destroyed world is perfectly rational to his mind. He has seen his world wiped clean multiple times, reset and reformed under Ra's curious and capricious hand. Flood, blood and fire. The issue he takes with Zenith is that they seek a perfect world, as imperfect people; that the world they want to create will be boring. It will not have strife. It will not have passion.
Neither is Meridian optimism, to him. Every inch of him televises that into Childe's mind. Good and evil, hope and despair, optimism and realism — Meridian and Zenith are not opposites to him, but different paths to take toward his singular goal. That he has chosen Meridian is not because he believes in hope, but because Zenith's goal? It is vapid and boring. And there is no shift in that resolve, as he meets this young man in battle.
( You are too beautiful and wild for that fate, his light-stained mind calls to Childe. I would rather hold you while you die, and burn your impassioned soul into my own for an eternity than allow someone like you to wilt.
Did Childe not ascend from the Abyss — the darkness — once before? Why not again? )
Set does not immediately dive for the knife. It is a tool, but so is his body. He swipes his toes toward it to kick it into the distance, preparing to maneuver their fight so that he may seize it better later. Instead, he fastens tight to Childe and irradiates him with his desire. For Childe not to come to the side others think is hope and good, but to the side of his youth. The side of those who do not pretend to be optimistic, but instead battle the Abyss itself. ( Zenith is the Abyss. Zenith is the Abyss. Childe, you have already conquered the Abyss once. )
He twists, trying poorly to keep hold of Childe's wrist as he crosses the young man's torso and tries to get him into a hold, to pin his arm up behind his back. If he cannot succeed, he will step back instead. Distance returned, for another set up. ]
— I want to take you to every world. I want to fight you across foreign battlefields, Childe. Why would I settle for one handcrafted by people who do not want people like you and I in their boring, perfect world, when millions already exist?! Waiting for us!
no subject
Set knows, what is is like to have everything to prove. And to be fragile. He has been made fragile, and combats that every damn day. ]
Oh! You will tell me more, will you not? Your master sounds as though they have taught you valuable lessons. After all —
[ The image will leap to Childe, horrendous and threatening and promising: Set, masked and looming in the light. A dark star of practicality and instinct, wielding a hundred weapons crafted from the sands under his feet. Blades, bludgeons, projectiles, melee implements, polearms, and amidst them all — Set, his fists cocked and waiting. Calling for Childe to come to bear against him in every way he desires, with every lesson he has ever learned.
Zenith is not realism, to him. Zenith is a potential route, but making-unmaking-remaking a destroyed world is perfectly rational to his mind. He has seen his world wiped clean multiple times, reset and reformed under Ra's curious and capricious hand. Flood, blood and fire. The issue he takes with Zenith is that they seek a perfect world, as imperfect people; that the world they want to create will be boring. It will not have strife. It will not have passion.
Neither is Meridian optimism, to him. Every inch of him televises that into Childe's mind. Good and evil, hope and despair, optimism and realism — Meridian and Zenith are not opposites to him, but different paths to take toward his singular goal. That he has chosen Meridian is not because he believes in hope, but because Zenith's goal? It is vapid and boring. And there is no shift in that resolve, as he meets this young man in battle.
( You are too beautiful and wild for that fate, his light-stained mind calls to Childe. I would rather hold you while you die, and burn your impassioned soul into my own for an eternity than allow someone like you to wilt.
Did Childe not ascend from the Abyss — the darkness — once before? Why not again? )
Set does not immediately dive for the knife. It is a tool, but so is his body. He swipes his toes toward it to kick it into the distance, preparing to maneuver their fight so that he may seize it better later. Instead, he fastens tight to Childe and irradiates him with his desire. For Childe not to come to the side others think is hope and good, but to the side of his youth. The side of those who do not pretend to be optimistic, but instead battle the Abyss itself. ( Zenith is the Abyss. Zenith is the Abyss. Childe, you have already conquered the Abyss once. )
He twists, trying poorly to keep hold of Childe's wrist as he crosses the young man's torso and tries to get him into a hold, to pin his arm up behind his back. If he cannot succeed, he will step back instead. Distance returned, for another set up. ]
— I want to take you to every world. I want to fight you across foreign battlefields, Childe. Why would I settle for one handcrafted by people who do not want people like you and I in their boring, perfect world, when millions already exist?! Waiting for us!