[ Amos would agree that he probably never should have been born, and yet, and yet, and yet. He could have so easily died a meaningless death in his youth and spared a lot of people for it (but that might have left some of those he did care for vulnerable, and that's not a pleasant thought) — and yet, and yet, and yet. Here he is now, lying on his side on the ground, continuing to watch Set even though he will not reciprocate.
Set is a piece of shit, but he does not come anywhere close to the top of the list of people who have hurt Amos. Rather, it's more that he needs to take care of him before Set hurts someone else — because Amos is positive that he will, sooner or later.
But that doesn't mean he can't take this moment of being sated, of swallowing the troublesome lump in his throat and watching Set give the Oracle itself a childish little kick. He can sympathize more with the action, less with the intent behind it.
His eyes flick back to Set's closed ones, his voice quiet in agreement. ]
Yeah. [ Someone has to do the dirty work. It isn't something to be proud of. Or even ashamed of, either. It simply is. ] It's not for everyone.
[ But it is, apparently, for the two of them. Amos sighs before rolling on his back, splaying himself out as much as his battered body will allow for comfort.
He doesn't know what it means for him to apparently have something in common with Set. Doesn't like it, because the man — god — whatever the fuck he proclaims to be — is everything that a good person shouldn't be. It's just that now, he's being forced to look into the mirror; to be reminded that he won't be a good person, either.
And it would be frustrating — but after their brawl, he's too at peace to really let it bother him.
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Set is a piece of shit, but he does not come anywhere close to the top of the list of people who have hurt Amos. Rather, it's more that he needs to take care of him before Set hurts someone else — because Amos is positive that he will, sooner or later.
But that doesn't mean he can't take this moment of being sated, of swallowing the troublesome lump in his throat and watching Set give the Oracle itself a childish little kick. He can sympathize more with the action, less with the intent behind it.
His eyes flick back to Set's closed ones, his voice quiet in agreement. ]
Yeah. [ Someone has to do the dirty work. It isn't something to be proud of. Or even ashamed of, either. It simply is. ] It's not for everyone.
[ But it is, apparently, for the two of them. Amos sighs before rolling on his back, splaying himself out as much as his battered body will allow for comfort.
He doesn't know what it means for him to apparently have something in common with Set. Doesn't like it, because the man — god — whatever the fuck he proclaims to be — is everything that a good person shouldn't be. It's just that now, he's being forced to look into the mirror; to be reminded that he won't be a good person, either.
And it would be frustrating — but after their brawl, he's too at peace to really let it bother him.
Let that come later, if at all. ]