[ Set's hand cups against his cheek, and Gen blinks slowly, wearily, before allowing himself to nuzzle into it. And in that moment, it's not just those canine ears of his -- flattened back until they're almost hidden in the dark tangle of his hair -- that make him look like a stray dog longing for a master whose grave he can starve to death by. The listless gaze he fixes on Set is rife with loyalty and devotion that have nowhere to go, as well as an equally ravenous hunger for affection.
Maybe that's why he's genuinely, truly, honestly grateful for that contradiction in Set's words.
'Minegishi Gen' will never be a blessing upon anyone's life unless he becomes something other than himself. This, he knows as an ironclad fact. Then -- if he must be a curse, he'd rather be a memorable one. If he can leave indelible scars, and at least be heard and remembered in that way, he'd be glad for it. To be so wholeheartedly accepted as a blight, as a scourge, as something detestable is a new but almost invigorating experience, and it makes something in his chest squeeze tight. Set calls him 'painful,' and Gen sighs in relief. ]
... alright. [ The chilly flow of Zenith in his veins redoubles, strengthened by the fresh glut that Set pours into him, and Gen shudders. It feels comfortable in the way that sinking into the folds of something unbearably soft and painfully familiar. A return to where he belongs. ] I'll let you think that.
[ And in return, he tries to purge the remaining dregs of Meridian that cling to his flesh. Those scraps are scant and few, but it still feels right to try and hand them over in exchange -- reaffirming Set's place, along with his own. Because if Set is promising to wait for him there, on that side, then he can't be abandoning his post, can he?
His shoulders sink as he exhales slowly, and Gen squeezes Set's hand once more before slowly letting go. It feels like something's settled into place deep within his core, reaching a comfortable point of equilibrium. 'Hello,' Set's voice echoes from the further corners of his mind, and Gen acknowledges it with a small nod.
'Hello,' he should say in return. 'Thank you,' he should say. But those words aren't becoming of the rude, irritable, rotten bastard Set calls his, are they? So instead, he whispers, ] -- I won't be going easy on you next time. [ Maybe there's even a shiver of anticipation in those words. Something almost boyish and genuine. ] Let's see if you can keep thinking that.
[ But until then -- he'll allow himself to be Set's. He'll think of another world, another time, where he accepted that hand offered his way by a man who claims to be cruel, but has offered him a shelter safer than any other he's felt in a while. ]
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Maybe that's why he's genuinely, truly, honestly grateful for that contradiction in Set's words.
'Minegishi Gen' will never be a blessing upon anyone's life unless he becomes something other than himself. This, he knows as an ironclad fact. Then -- if he must be a curse, he'd rather be a memorable one. If he can leave indelible scars, and at least be heard and remembered in that way, he'd be glad for it. To be so wholeheartedly accepted as a blight, as a scourge, as something detestable is a new but almost invigorating experience, and it makes something in his chest squeeze tight. Set calls him 'painful,' and Gen sighs in relief. ]
... alright. [ The chilly flow of Zenith in his veins redoubles, strengthened by the fresh glut that Set pours into him, and Gen shudders. It feels comfortable in the way that sinking into the folds of something unbearably soft and painfully familiar. A return to where he belongs. ] I'll let you think that.
[ And in return, he tries to purge the remaining dregs of Meridian that cling to his flesh. Those scraps are scant and few, but it still feels right to try and hand them over in exchange -- reaffirming Set's place, along with his own. Because if Set is promising to wait for him there, on that side, then he can't be abandoning his post, can he?
His shoulders sink as he exhales slowly, and Gen squeezes Set's hand once more before slowly letting go. It feels like something's settled into place deep within his core, reaching a comfortable point of equilibrium. 'Hello,' Set's voice echoes from the further corners of his mind, and Gen acknowledges it with a small nod.
'Hello,' he should say in return. 'Thank you,' he should say. But those words aren't becoming of the rude, irritable, rotten bastard Set calls his, are they? So instead, he whispers, ] -- I won't be going easy on you next time. [ Maybe there's even a shiver of anticipation in those words. Something almost boyish and genuine. ] Let's see if you can keep thinking that.
[ But until then -- he'll allow himself to be Set's. He'll think of another world, another time, where he accepted that hand offered his way by a man who claims to be cruel, but has offered him a shelter safer than any other he's felt in a while. ]