a nightmare, to him. It is an offering that cannot last, for he is so vastly different than the others in Kenos — not in form, but in mind. He does not feel he is misunderstood, but incapable of being understood by others who will think of him as a friend to them, only to be deeply disappointed when he does something that impacts them in a negative or frustrating way. Because he does, because he will. Byleth wants to be his friend, and Set wonders — even though Byleth is the descendent of a god, how much of him will be able to fathom the way that Set looks upon the world, and the incongruity of his manner and approach to the war in Kenos.
Friends are — strange, elusive things. Foreign things, that even he struggles to understand; what use would a friend be to him? what are his responsibilities to a friend? His hands jerk away, soft, but sudden, from where he clutches at Byleth's shoulders; Set rubs his fingers along the inside of his wrist, idle and telling of his internal struggle. ( Even he struggles, of course he does. )
They don't exist for me. But you do, and I like you. ]
You remind me of my nephew. [ He murmurs the words, faintly. ] Devoid of self-preservation and sense.
[ It's not a refusal, though. How can he evade such blinding sincerity? ]
I will not be a very good friend. If you still want me, though... you can have me.
no subject
a nightmare, to him. It is an offering that cannot last, for he is so vastly different than the others in Kenos — not in form, but in mind. He does not feel he is misunderstood, but incapable of being understood by others who will think of him as a friend to them, only to be deeply disappointed when he does something that impacts them in a negative or frustrating way. Because he does, because he will. Byleth wants to be his friend, and Set wonders — even though Byleth is the descendent of a god, how much of him will be able to fathom the way that Set looks upon the world, and the incongruity of his manner and approach to the war in Kenos.
Friends are — strange, elusive things. Foreign things, that even he struggles to understand; what use would a friend be to him? what are his responsibilities to a friend? His hands jerk away, soft, but sudden, from where he clutches at Byleth's shoulders; Set rubs his fingers along the inside of his wrist, idle and telling of his internal struggle. ( Even he struggles, of course he does. )
They don't exist for me. But you do, and I like you. ]
You remind me of my nephew. [ He murmurs the words, faintly. ] Devoid of self-preservation and sense.
[ It's not a refusal, though. How can he evade such blinding sincerity? ]
I will not be a very good friend. If you still want me, though... you can have me.