[ at times, Set may be a wildfire, a blazing sun, the heat of the desert sands so intense that it burns your feet – but in this moment, he is simply warm. Rudbeckia curls into him seeking that warmth, like a flower trying to escape the frost, like someone pulled from the depths of an icy lake. is it worse, she wonders, to have this for a moment, knowing that it won't last? once he releases her, she'll go back to the cold; and someday, when he discards her for good, she will go once again.

she doesn't want to care about such things. Set should be nothing more than a lifeline to her, a temporary means of survival. it's foolish to have hopes, or desires, or feelings at all when she knows none of them will matter in the end. but she thinks— if she could have—

Ruby flees from that budding desire, deeper into the dark. even so, she can't help clinging more fiercely to Set, the only torch she has. ]

I don't want to stay there. I'm scared of them. I know I'm not a good Meridian, but all they care about is action. Zenith demands devotion. I've been there before. [ she does not mean it in the literal sense. Set is overcome by a chill and its association with home; a feeling like walking on tip-toe over glass shards, eyes searing on the back of his neck. ] If they don't think I'm loyal, they'll...

[ a cold, dark room. the scars on her back. ]

That man—Kaeya, he'll kill me. Or Amos. And Lady Yima—wouldn't be able to love me.