( they mutually commit the same sins but as mirror images of one another — set continuously applies expectations to john that he, still largely shackled by the burdens and limitations of humanity and perceived mortality, can't in his current state even begin to properly embody. likewise, there is something remarkably grounded and human to set that john has difficulty affixing to his mental perception of gods and unknowable entities like them. perhaps it's by these very predispositions that they are cursed to repeat these miscommunications and understandings, unable to truly comprehend the nature of one another and similarly unable to become what the other would need them to be in order to properly do so.
set is not wrong in identifying this fraying thread, this troublesome self-perception that john has regarding who he is, what he is. but he does miss exactly what manner of contagion he sees himself as. he is no patient zero — the only Fear that still manages to perpetuate in a semi-extant state is the Eye, and it might not have even been able to do that if he were not Marked by each of the other thirteen. the other Dread Powers to not breathe and seethe within these Marks as the Eye does within his shard, but they instead lie dormant as withered seeds buried in fallow soil, one day waiting for the conditions to change so they might split, sprout, and grow anew.
he cannot Mark others with the Fears to spread this danger to them. he might be able to awaken their terror of the Eye, as it is still present to drink deeply from that fear, but he cannot either intentionally or accidentally craft from any person here in kenos another "key," like how jonah magnus had made one out of him.
no, he is not the living vector to breathe new disease to those around him. he is instead the corpse rife with dormant rot, ready to spring forth as fresh pestilence whenever the environment around them became just suitable for the occasion.
not knowing what those ideal conditions may be, if they exist at all... he errs on the side of brutal, self-sacrificial caution.
even still, set's words wound him, even if they don't land as accurately as they might have otherwise. john's brow settles over his eyes like a dense layer of stormclouds, and his jaw sets. with great effort he pulls himself up from the ground, seeming even further reduced than normal with a heavily-weighted slump to the line of his shoulders. he thinks for a moment of repudiating what set had said, telling him that, "that's not how it works," but...
isn't it?
even if it wasn't literally: he thinks of the face of sasha that is now permanently lost to him, of tim's grim and incendiary self-destruction, of haunted basira and withered daisy, of melanie's sightless eyes and that horrible, horrible way georgie had looked at him, somewhere caught between pity and disappointment, whenever he had stood before her in the nightmares he'd unknowingly forced her into sharing with him.
of martin —
as usual, he tears the page of thought away from its spine as soon as his thoughts begin to stray too close to him. instead he replies in a low tone, rigid through grit teeth, ) If you're asking that question, then maybe you should ask yourself this one: should you have shattered my shard when you had the chance?
( with that, he has nothing left to say, and he moves to leave. )
no subject
set is not wrong in identifying this fraying thread, this troublesome self-perception that john has regarding who he is, what he is. but he does miss exactly what manner of contagion he sees himself as. he is no patient zero — the only Fear that still manages to perpetuate in a semi-extant state is the Eye, and it might not have even been able to do that if he were not Marked by each of the other thirteen. the other Dread Powers to not breathe and seethe within these Marks as the Eye does within his shard, but they instead lie dormant as withered seeds buried in fallow soil, one day waiting for the conditions to change so they might split, sprout, and grow anew.
he cannot Mark others with the Fears to spread this danger to them. he might be able to awaken their terror of the Eye, as it is still present to drink deeply from that fear, but he cannot either intentionally or accidentally craft from any person here in kenos another "key," like how jonah magnus had made one out of him.
no, he is not the living vector to breathe new disease to those around him. he is instead the corpse rife with dormant rot, ready to spring forth as fresh pestilence whenever the environment around them became just suitable for the occasion.
not knowing what those ideal conditions may be, if they exist at all... he errs on the side of brutal, self-sacrificial caution.
even still, set's words wound him, even if they don't land as accurately as they might have otherwise. john's brow settles over his eyes like a dense layer of stormclouds, and his jaw sets. with great effort he pulls himself up from the ground, seeming even further reduced than normal with a heavily-weighted slump to the line of his shoulders. he thinks for a moment of repudiating what set had said, telling him that, "that's not how it works," but...
isn't it?
even if it wasn't literally: he thinks of the face of sasha that is now permanently lost to him, of tim's grim and incendiary self-destruction, of haunted basira and withered daisy, of melanie's sightless eyes and that horrible, horrible way georgie had looked at him, somewhere caught between pity and disappointment, whenever he had stood before her in the nightmares he'd unknowingly forced her into sharing with him.
of martin —
as usual, he tears the page of thought away from its spine as soon as his thoughts begin to stray too close to him. instead he replies in a low tone, rigid through grit teeth, ) If you're asking that question, then maybe you should ask yourself this one: should you have shattered my shard when you had the chance?
( with that, he has nothing left to say, and he moves to leave. )