[ — and instead, he receives that name too, as his due.
( He should have been there, he thinks. To scourge the lingering doubts, and preserve Liem's heart. If only he had been there, to fight his demons with him and make good on all the things he had pushed upon him in the church, would Liem have believed more in him than anything else?
Would Hayame have been spared? )
Set does not flinch, nor yield any thought to her apart from that self-same gratitude he had given her at the Masquerade. The soft, perpetually-stunned acceptance of devotions he asked her to give him, but finds each one novel and precious all the same; he is a forgotten god, and she is a useless warrior. Together, they keep one another alive in some capacity, clinging by their fingertips to some sort of insane rite. And so, he reaches for her hand. For the one that holds the brush,
and he takes it down to his own. To hold her palm over the cool-warm threat of the energies within him, to reveal to her the location of his Shard, born right over his own heart below golden collar and the flow of his hair. He resolves himself to purge it, for her. To yield it to someone, because though he desires Zenith, though he is perfect for it, and every inch of his pragmatism demands he embrace it, he will always fight. He must fight for people like Hayame, like Liem. ]
I accept, Hayame. The burden of your violence upon you is ours, and I acknowledge the pain it has caused you. In this, I share in the burden of violence done unto yourself.
[ While he would seek his Harmonized energy, to slowly attend to the Discord she feels — he cannot, like this. He will, though. He will later, when they are shut of the place and back in their proper time. When the Oracle is obtained... and he can find her, into whatever miserable place she goes to isolate herself, for the things she does in the name of victory. ]
no subject
( He should have been there, he thinks. To scourge the lingering doubts, and preserve Liem's heart. If only he had been there, to fight his demons with him and make good on all the things he had pushed upon him in the church, would Liem have believed more in him than anything else?
Would Hayame have been spared? )
Set does not flinch, nor yield any thought to her apart from that self-same gratitude he had given her at the Masquerade. The soft, perpetually-stunned acceptance of devotions he asked her to give him, but finds each one novel and precious all the same; he is a forgotten god, and she is a useless warrior. Together, they keep one another alive in some capacity, clinging by their fingertips to some sort of insane rite. And so, he reaches for her hand. For the one that holds the brush,
and he takes it down to his own. To hold her palm over the cool-warm threat of the energies within him, to reveal to her the location of his Shard, born right over his own heart below golden collar and the flow of his hair. He resolves himself to purge it, for her. To yield it to someone, because though he desires Zenith, though he is perfect for it, and every inch of his pragmatism demands he embrace it, he will always fight. He must fight for people like Hayame, like Liem. ]
I accept, Hayame. The burden of your violence upon you is ours, and I acknowledge the pain it has caused you. In this, I share in the burden of violence done unto yourself.
[ While he would seek his Harmonized energy, to slowly attend to the Discord she feels — he cannot, like this. He will, though. He will later, when they are shut of the place and back in their proper time. When the Oracle is obtained... and he can find her, into whatever miserable place she goes to isolate herself, for the things she does in the name of victory. ]