The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

[beleos]

RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK

The situation is bleak.

The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.

And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.

“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”

Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.

And then, there is nothing.

AWAKENING

Your eyes open, gritty with the feeling of a long, deep slumber.

Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.

It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.

You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?

The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?

ABANDON HOPE (DAYS 1 & 2)

The cornerstones are still active and will take you to whichever city you wish to see.

Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.

Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.

The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.

And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…

EXPLORATION

• If your characters choose to explore previously unreachable areas, please use THIS TOPLEVEL to report when they get there in the thread! We will get back to you with what is discoverable in that location.
• The following areas are off limits for exploration: below Yima’s Manor; below the Church of Heliopolis; Alenroux; Kowloon.
• The Great Trees of both Highstorm and Springstar are in a similar state to the Tree of Life and will not respond to Communion.
• Generally speaking, items will be of poor quality. Most will look as though they’ve aged thousands of years. Others will be in half-decent shape, but sparingly so. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like the whole city has aged at the same rate, so especially diligent rummagers can find worthwhile supplies. Please consider this should be rare and don’t go overboard!

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

• Characters will have a diluted connection to the Zenith or Meridian.
• There will be periods powers are weakened or non-functional during days 1-2 (up to player discretion).
• The sunlight results in scorching; the shadows cause claustrophobia and fear while outdoors.

THE RITUAL (DAYS 2+)

The place you started your journey to Kenos is also where it seems it will end. As soon as the first Bearer makes contact with the Iconoclast effigy, you are collectively drawn to the roots beneath the Tree - like a pang sent through your Shard. Your objective has been found. The Oracle awaits.

Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.

Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.

To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.

An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.

Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…

NOTES

• Bearers will have access to the Ritual Chamber which is a very wide, open space with the effigy situated against the far wall from the entrance. Several smaller tunnels off-shoot from the Ritual Chamber. They all run to dead ends; some are very small or narrow. This may afford you meager privacy away from the group.
• Once a Bearer steps into the Chamber, they can no longer head back out the way they came. They’ll find themselves automatically walking back into the Chamber as if of their own volition.
• For brevity’s sake we won’t list them out again here, but the complete description of effects Bearers will experience days 2+ is available in the OOC Summary.
• The effigy is impervious to damage.
• It Is Watching You.
• In a dead-end root tunnel attached to the Iconoclast’s Chamber is the Blighted statue of an Otter that may be familiar to some… Please see THIS TOPLEVEL for more information!

THE PURGE (DAYS 5+)

The sap has festered in your veins for what feels like days. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed; this place has no sunlight. The effigy watches as you remain trapped, huddled together around it, unable to leave as you find yourself sick with the affliction of the Meridian, Zenith - or both.

And then… something finally gives.

Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.

When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.

Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

• You can Purge your alignment through various methods: Trading, Corrupting, or using the Effigy itself.
• All characters will understand the end goal is for everyone to Harmonize; the alignment with the higher rate of Harmonized Bearers alive when time’s up wins the Oracle’s favor.

NOTES

• A reminder that the Harmonization tally will take place on Friday, the 19th and be open through Monday, the 29th. The results will be released on Wednesday, the 31st OOCly.
• Don’t forget to submit any deaths to the Death Tracker, with a gentle reminder characters will remain dead until the event conclusion!
• Reminder to fill out the SETTING POLL ASAP if you haven't already!
• Have some MUSIC if you'd like. LYRICS here!
• HAVE FUN!!

CODING

Comments

[cutlery]

[ The pointed barb gets Sebastian’s jaw to tighten, and there’s a flicker of that anger again. He’s well aware of such loopholes, but none of them would benefit him in the long term. Sebastian’s maneuvers are carefully planned out things, for he’s sharply attentive to how others perceive him. He’ll never be able to earnestly appear as a benign, non-threatening man, for Horos had forced his hand to reveal himself as a demon nearly immediately. But he does need most people to see him as a curiosity, not a threat. So, in such a public arena, the only option left to him when faced with Hayame’s wrath is to continue to play docile so that she might be seen as the mad one. It’s a weapon he can wield as deftly as a knife, but in this case, it’s also one that he deeply disliked.

However, the sharp comment on his tongue is just as quickly quelled by Set’s sarcasm. If there’s something he finds worse than having his cleverness questioned, it’s definitely being pitied by Set, even as a joke. Not to say that he denies the touch, though. To pull back or to try and hide the injury now would be to show a different kind of weakness. ]

My fitting comeuppance, I am sure— [ He stops to hiss through clenched teeth as Set strokes at the area, since it still burns with the pain of raw nerve endings (or whatever Sebastian has made to simulate them). He had removed Hayame’s eye with all of the perfect precision that could be expected from the demon, but it wasn’t a “grace” that had been returned. It likely couldn’t have been.

It’s vague, not quite concrete thoughts or feelings so much as a sharp, immediate impression in response to the pain, but it’ll come through Communion regardless. Whatever “score” he and Hayame had, it’s no longer settled in Sebastian’s books. This is something he’ll respond to and viciously, at that. But Set also knows Sebastian well enough at this point that this doesn’t necessarily mean violence. Perhaps it almost certainly doesn’t. ]

Of course.

[ That sharp impression leaves with the question, though Sebastian almost spits out his answer through a slightly shaky breath. Whether it’s pain, anger, or some combination of the two isn’t entirely clear, even with Communion. Without his true being to draw on and retreat to in the face of an injury, he really is just trapped in a more fragile body, what with his attention to detail at trying to perfectly blend in with humans. ]

I have already given my complaints to my master, [ He doesn’t refer to Silco that way often, but considering it’s something Set knows now, its use here is pointed ] but do not think you are free of them either. I hope part of what you have learned is better dealmaking, for one.

[redsoil]

[ The moment he had learned of Hayame's persisting hatred for Sebastian, he could not deny the thing that had stirred within him — the sprawling domain of war, of violence, disorder that would pervade even the most orderly of beings and drive them to the most minute of mistakes that would ripple outward, colliding with others and expanding exponentially. The embodiment of discord, who took more pleasure in slovenly things than most. Hayame would pursue Sebastian, and Sebastian would eventually be forced to retaliate. If not for himself, then for Silco.

The scale was always unbalanced, in Hayame's eyes. Now, it is unbalanced to Sebastian, as well. And Set, god of chaos, feels the urge to cradle them in his palms and watch them seek the other's destruction — because what they each perceive as 'even' is as mutually exclusive as Meridian and Zenith's desires. In Kenos, he is blessed to observe the microcosm of the grand battle upon a smaller, intimate scale. His demon, his warrior. It is blinding, the way he lays claim to them both. As if they exist for him alone, and whatever is between them is for him.

Set shivers, a chill running down his spine from crown to the small of his back, building in his chest like hunger, yearning. Were he not stripped of all power, his eyes would be bright, aglow. Instead, the pupils have thinned to the point where they are nearly gone — cat-like, softly reflective of the meager lighting in the roots. His fingers dip, into the breast pocket of Sebastian's coat, sliding into the folds of it in search of that bit of cloth he knows that the demon, as pristine as he is, will have. Where's your fucking handkerchief, nerd? ]

It is hard for me to not benefit from things, in one way or another. Are you judging my dealmaking skills, Sebastian? I consort with gods from foreign lands, do you think that I have fallen short in your eyes?

[ Closer, he comes. ]

I could always stand to learn, if you wish to teach me.

[cutlery]

[ Communion gives him a taste of Set’s feelings, but Sebastian would be able to identify it even without that forced connection. The way that Set’s pupils narrow and that little flicker of excitement are things that Sebastian can easily recognize for what they are. Hunger. It may not be so literal as Sebastian’s, but the urge is the same. They both crave things that are more abstract and are willing to pursue them with a ravenous energy that most simply couldn’t understand.

He scoffs, because even if it’s not a threat, he hates being caught in it all the same. He can’t begrudge Set for it anymore than he imagines Set thinks of his hungers, but it’s still irritating because of his lack of complicity in the agreement. If he had agreed to it himself and had a lack of foresight, he could easily say it was a challenge well met. Bartering with Silco in a way that entangled his demon was not nearly so fair a wager.

(Set, of course, finds a clean silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. In his vicious haste, all of that blood and gore had been wiped on a sleeve instead.) ]

And I have almost certainly been alive longer than those gods.

[ It’s not bragging, more a simple statement, though it’s truth is nearly impossible to verify. What came first, after all? Humanity lusting after what they could not have or humanity praising what they could not understand? But such ire isn’t directed at Set, even with the harshness in his words. Sebastian seems to hear it now, and he closes his one eye to compose himself. ]

…Silco told me of his side of this deal. [ And definitely Silco’s alone. Sebastian may consider himself a tool at Silco’s disposal, but even so, his interests were still more self-serving than for Zenith, though that’s something Sebastian won’t admit. ] What do you find you get out of this arrangement? I would like to hear it from your lips rather than his assumptions.

[redsoil]

Whether you are or are not. Your experience marks you as an apt instructor, in my eyes.

[ Perhaps he speaks deferentially to Sebastian as an act of contrition, for leading him into a situation he was not fully equipped to handle. Flattery may not work, especially coming from the mouth of a god so chaotic that his moods and whims were difficult to pinpoint, but Set is clearly in so good a mood that it may not be flattery at all. Simple pleasure, in the face of what he had seen — Hayame's purity of resentment, her demand for the eternal hunt, and Sebastian. The hungry, dark, maddening thing that he truly was — the impression of it had elicited a hunger, a yearning within Set.

I want that, he had thought. I want to be like that. To imagine it was still an abstract design. But to be lovely, and horrific, feels to him like an appropriate measure. Something to truly disgust Osiris, to turn him off from ever desiring him again.

With his hand finding the handkerchief, he draws it out and lightly presses it to the facsimile of flesh that Sebastian has trapped himself in, only to draw the cloth back to lick it until damp and lightly pat away the gore and blood left behind around the edges of his jagged wound. Once free, he is certain it will heal up, but tending to Sebastian now is a cultivated 'apology'. Akin to an animal licking another's wounds, though that same animal would hunt it days later, given the opportunity. ]

For starters, I wanted Silco and Amos. I proposed the deal to the pair of them, during the Manon debates. Amos declined wholeheartedly, but Silco was interested. I wanted two Zenites; notably, two of the Faction's more socially prominent ones. I thought to tether them to me, and hindering their ability to ferry aid to the others, while enhancing my own versatility and area of effect through them. Perhaps in time, due to their association with me, I could even begin to drive a wedge between them and the others and truly have them. He volunteered you, I did not ask for you. But, because he did so, I was able to piece together the truth of yours and his relationship.

[ Slowly, he draws the handkerchief across the injury's edges. ]

I wanted to create the foundation of a longer, lasting relationship throughout the Oracle wars. Perhaps even afterwards, if I may be so bold. Win or lose, I want war. Not this microcosm of robbery and doubt.

[ Not this, in the roots. This is a shameful thing. It has its beauty in violence and death, which account for its highlights, but he's very understimulated by the denial of freedom. He values freedom, conviction and choice. ]

[cutlery]

[ The flattery gets suspicion to rise, since even if it’s genuine, Sebastian does treat Set like a demon in some ways. Largely in that even if he’s critical of this deal, he does respect Set’s intellect and cleverness. So therefore, any appeal to his ego under these circumstances is suspect. It’s hard to miss what a good mood the god is in, especially compared to Sebastian’s rather foul one.

However, it’s when Set reaches out towards Sebastian with the handkerchief that Sebastian does reach up to grab his wrist. In the one eye that remains, there’s a sting of furious pride. To be tended to is an insult, but only because it highlights the loss, not of the eye, but of the encounter. Sebastian may play at humility for his games, but he’s much more fiercely proud than that in truth. It’s the same sort of thing that Set had seen in the Scorching Isles when Set had pointed out his weakness there.

…But, those games still have their uses. They’re in a very public setting and unable to hide from various onlookers. Sebastian already has his plans for how to weave a narrative here, and that involves swallowing that immediate reaction. He releases Set’s wrist and allows him to continue with a soft sigh. The sharpest parts of the irritation ebbs away as he forces it down, though there’s still a disgruntled displeasure.

At least, at first. As Set explains his rationale and his plans, it helps to take the edge off of his anger (and the sting, a bit) as his mind refocuses on it instead. There’s a cool calm that replaces it as he analyzes it instead. ]

…It is not as poor of a plan on your side, at least. [ vander voice: SILCO ] But Amos was not worthwhile to attempt to recruit, as I am sure you are aware now. His dedication to Zenith is absolute, and I imagine none of those that truly believe in its promise would ever agree to an arrangement.

[ Sebastian hisses through his teeth as Set touches a rawer area, but it’s only a brief pause. ]

You should have rejected me as an option as well. Not for the reasons you state, for they are not unfair. Were things more… typical, it would be significantly defanging Zenith to remove me from their play. However, you knew Hayame would react poorly to my presence with certainty. She is just one case, but we will use her as an example. The strife that my presence causes should have been part of the calculations.

[ Sebastian pauses, considering whether to say it so bluntly, but he sighs. For Set, it wouldn't come as any surprise, and he imagines his days of cultivating reputation so intentionally with the Meridian may be cut short. ]

…You may not value it, but there is no finer, more precise tool than good will and reputation.

fucking sighs,

[redsoil]

[ Though he feels the curl of delight within him, when Sebastian seizes his wrist, he does not allow it to reach his mouth again; now, his expression begins to settle, to become more contemplative as he awaits the demon's next movement. There is no doubt in his mind that while he enjoys his little pleasures, when he can get them, Sebastian — patient and analytical — is already devising a way to come out on top. Dominance is a game between them, and while Set ekes out tiny, playful 'victories', he instinctively recognizes the demon's ability to maneuver him into a corner. He seeks to leave himself an escape, all the same; even if it must be explosive.

He waits. While pride burns in the off-brown depths of Sebastian's eye. While he thinks. Because he is released, he knows: this is useful to Sebastian, to be seen attended to by Hayame's war god. And for Set, it is useful as well. Let Meridian see. Let Zenith see, too. The manufactured proximity between them, and the simultaneous, secretly innate draw between god and demon. Lightly, he dabs at the injury to clean up the worst of the gore left behind, mindful of the inflamed edges, the eye itself. ]

Would you like me to remove what is left? She left a ruin of you, we could tidy what remains for now.

[ What he enjoys, is the assessment of his plan. To hear praise from the demon, and recommendations of what to do better, is exactly what he desires — both personally, and professionally. To be the learner means positioning himself in a role where Sebastian can be the domineering partner; Set aches to allow it to happen, not because he wishes to be below anyone, but because — things can be done, if he seems desperate. If he works to be instructed and led. He can attain power like this, and he has built himself to this point — for their real, truly maddening game to begin.

( This, in part, is why he wanted Sebastian involved. Personal pleasure, and a need for power. ) ]

I did let my enjoyment of our game get in the way. And I will admit, I was the one who asked Silco not to inform you — we thought it would have been a little more fun, to surprise you. I believe I swept him up in my wake, [ #gremlins.

He listens to what Sebastian says. Stern-browed and reflective, as he nods. And nods again. ]

I do support her, you know. Perhaps maneuvering the two of you into fighting for my pleasure, when that is an inevitability, was a little much. Still. You both were lovelt to see, and could be so much more magnificent. Were things not so — public, well... [ eggplant emoji, bisexual gods be bi ]

No matter the outcome of this war, I am sure you and I will persist. We are quite inevitable, among humans, as you have said. So. Will you instruct me, Sebastian Michaelis? There is still... good will between us.

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian sighs deeply, but there’s a slight twitch of irritation at his brow. It’s not something he plans to elaborate on, but in how Communion is shared, Set gets a flicker of it all the same. For it to be left a ruin is what bothers him, for this is only as “even” as her crude handiwork can allow. His own work had been precise and methodical, a careful hook and loop even in the unbalanced chaos of being on her back. For a moment, there’s a memory of that (satisfying—) feeling.

But that, he doesn’t answer to first. The rest requires more of an answer, and it’ll be difficult to give that when Set is digging around in his eye socket. So, he pushes the macabre thought away with a scoff. ]

…As soon as you were revealed as the oh so mysterious dealmaker, I knew precisely why it was so mysterious. Your sense of humor is distinct. [ His tone definitely says “unfortunately” ] So, I shall say this only once now that you also know the truth of our relationship—He is mine. If your whimsy lures him into a situation that puts his soul at risk, our friendly relationship shall end. I will not have my efforts wasted.

[ It’s a professional, but perfectly serious warning. For most, Sebastian would lean into the threat and viciousness of it, but he doesn’t think there’s a particular need in Set’s case. He understands what Sebastian is and enough of what he can do. He assumes that Set understands that Sebastian’s genuine ire is difficult to earn, but exceptionally dangerous. Something that Hayame may be about to learn, perhaps, but Set’s take on that… His expression at least lightens from being so serious. ]

Well. Support her as you wish, for I care not about that. This was foolish of her. I am sure you know that well enough. Yet, if this poor showing is considered lovely, then I shall overlook your voyeuristic pleasures, my dear Nb Set. There will be a far more fetching one to come.

[ is this how you flirt? anyways, ]

…So, yes. Rather unfortunately for my peace of mind it seems, we still have good will. So long as you do not prove too vexing a pupil, it seems a fun subject to teach. [ He sighs again, though it’s more to shore himself up as Set will get to this work. It won’t be quite so raw as the removal itself, but it’ll hardly be pleasant. ] And yes to cleaning up what remains as well. It would be even more unfortunate were it to fester.

[redsoil]

[ Though the memory of Hayame's pain and anguish as Sebastian neatly robs her of her eye rattles within his soul, as an ache he wishes to lay a hand on ( to devour? to soothe? ), he grinds his back molars subtly against it. Warriors would always be injured, would always be left with scars as proof of their shortcomings and the things that had failed to kill them; yet, entities such as he and Sebastian were incapable of scars. In any other circumstance, they would be pristine and clean. Which means he will gladly take in Sebastian's wretched appearance as an outlying vision, and choose to bask in both violent acts ( for the alternative is impossible for him, he cannot recoil from brutality — ): the one that Sebastian reflects upon, and the one Hayame has shown him. ]

While the Ennead view the passage of soul to afterlife as sacrosanct, I differ. Certainly, souls have a natural path to follow — but, I am not a stranger to the usefulness of the soul. And I have denied my fair share of them, for my own ends.

[ Which is to say. ]

I have no intention to save him, or meddle in the contract between you. He chose his path, and he knows what end awaits him.

[ He does not waver, nor lower his voice. Silco is probably nearby, but Set does not mind.

Though the passage of the soul to the afterlife was sacred in Egypt and other communities, Set truly could not find it in himself to struggle with the notion that he ought to safeguard any mortal's soul when they had chosen the route they wished it to take. He owed it to the women he had slaughtered to return them, because they had no choice in becoming his weapons. Silco freely chose, and in that — was the crux of his opinion. That Sebastian Michaelis was a valid option to be chosen, and one who ought not to be denied his earnings. ]

I am a devout pupil, you will find. You may even find it a challenge, keeping up with me — now, settle in and brace yourself. I will take all that remains in a single, clean sweep.

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian makes a thoughtful noise, since Set’s use of the soul interests him, naturally. It’s not something that can be hidden at the moment, but he also doesn’t ask. It’s their unique form of respect at work, for the answer isn’t necessarily something he’d want to reveal in current circumstances… But it’s also clear that he will ask later.

For now, he nods. His interest can at least give way to the softer cooling of his concerns. ]

Good. It would be a shame for you to ruin things out of a misplaced sense of… [ He trails off half-playfully, then shrugs. ] Well, I do not know. It could be many things that drive it. I shall not assume and simply be quietly grateful for your prudence.

[ Since, truly… It would be a shame to lose such a fun companion over something so minor as a single Covenant. But with that thought and mind and the task at Set’s hand, he cant help but breathe out a laugh. It’s a bit ironic, but he knows precisely what this is. He trusts Set. In his way. ]

…But, yes. Let us get this over with. Do pardon me for any reflexive reactions, if you would.

cw eye gore

[redsoil]

[ Honestly, Set feels the same way. It would be shameful to intercede in a fair bargain between two people — the only thing that could make him would be, well. If he was directly asked to. As with most things, Set functions as an outsider god and awaits being invited in upon request, or asked to provide information and aid; without those things, he feels no need to offer up his services entirely free of charge! ]

I would not want to lose you by treading on the sole line you have drawn, either. There are plenty of other ways to toy with you, Sebastian!

[ Which is a dangerous thing to say. If he were human. Being a god, he has a degree of casualness that he can treat the demon with; his caution exists, cultivated and a little more subtle than his revery, but not at all something he wants to get in the way of his quest for power and dominance. Even he would employ a demon, even if his soul was — maybe? — a little too vast to eat up in one fell swoop. If they entered a contract, it would be... a hell of a thing.

Pressing on Sebastian's shoulders, he urges him to sit upon a jutting root that will put his head nearer to Set's chest level. It will provide him the best view from which to work in the low lighting, and the leverage he needs to be precise for such a tidy creature. ]

Leave scars while you can, kkw.sn.

[ And once he can, he'll cradle Sebastian's jaw in one palm. The fingers of his other hand hover, envisioning the path he must take — open wide, he mouths, before digging two fingers into the pit of gore to wrest the remainder of Sebastian's ruined eye from the socket. The viscera, the crumpled cornea, the false!optic nerve he may have to pinch and tear — it is a fluid and complete enucleation, betraying Set's ability for careful work despite being a chaotic bastard.

That he holds the remains in his gore-slick hand afterwards and leans in, to slide his impossibly-clean tongue through the emptied socket with a slight eugh of distaste, is just trimming. He cannot carry illness or germs, even divided from his divinity. He's practically surgically sterile! And licking wounds is very common among animals... ]

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian laughs gently first to Set’s comment, and there’s a little smirk in response as Set pushes him back. He takes a seat as directed, and before he gets started, he can’t help but give a coy little comment back. ]

I hate to admit it, but you have certainly honed a talent for vexing me.

[ But clearly not so vexing that Sebastian is displeased with their arrangement, and even worse (in his opinion), he trusts Set with such a delicate procedure. Disgusting, honestly, and he even thinks so. Yet both of them operate in a similar way, and in truth, that’s what Sebastian trusts. They’re both conniving and dishonest, and you can always trust someone with that personality to act exactly as you expect.

He almost breathes out another laugh at Set’s comments about scars, but it’s immediately cut off with a sharp sound as Set’s fingers dig into his socket. As he had warned, the response is twofold. In the physical, Sebastian’s hands reach out and grab Set’s hips. It’s likely a partially teasing response in part considering their unusual relationship, but it is also the practical place before him to grip tightly. The strength is bruising, but at least he’s limited by his human form here.

But worse (to most, anyways. To Set, well—) is what comes through Communion. As soon as Set’s fingers dig into sensitive, raw flesh, those shadows from earlier return, though with notably less ferocity. There’s no vicious, feral fear here, but it’s a supernatural shiver of hot pain of exquisite clarity. As Set extracts the remaining gore, the black mass seems to writhe and contort in response to each instance of pain, its form morphing and reshaping with an unsettling fluidity. It twists and turns, creating grotesque appendages that reach out in a macabre dance, as if attempting to alleviate the source of its suffering by considering lashing out at Set and anyone else unlucky enough to be witness, but...

Sebastian is careful. Even if those shadows couldn’t do anything in this space, he hates them being seen at all. This is a reflexive gnashing in the core of what he is. It’s not reflected outwardly by anything more than biting down on his lip hard enough to immediately split the skin to swallow the sound that threatens to come out. Set fluidly pulls out the remains, and Sebastian gasps out a harsh sound, hoarse and barked out, but he shivers as Set leans closer. The shadows calm and return to whatever dark pool they hide in.

The pain doesn’t completely subside as Set, what—Licks at his wound? That’s what gets him to laugh, though it’s shaky as he comes down from the burst of adrenaline and pain. Oh, Set. ]

Haa— This is a new way to try and woo me, dear Set. [ Nb is left off this time—Whether that’s intentional or not isn’t clear. ] I shall not forget your attentiveness.

i keep remembering silco is like 10 ft away

[redsoil]

[ Getting Sebastian seated is only half the battle. The other half involves the invasive and indelicately-delicate process of, quite literally, ripping out the remains of his eye. Who knows how long they will all be trapped here, in these roots, and without their peerless immortality and nigh-invulnerable health ( diminished, naturally, to a far 'lesser' capacity by Kenos's innate magic ) he can only imagine Sebastian's eye rotting in its socket if not attended to. How humiliatingly niche an end that would be for him, to succumb to an ailment of the blood — when at his core, Sebastian has neither a true immune system, or blood itself!

To hear that he a a fetchingly vexing presence in this demon's life, and to be — entrusted, with attending to his injury? To Set, that counts as a pleasure that far transcends Kenos. And one thing he finds himself delighted by, for how else would he have been able to meet a creature like this and learn from his long life and acquired knowledges? So, he attends dutifully to Sebastian's injury and dashes the remnants of his eye into a dark cove of the roots where no one will find it. Let the Tree deal with the offal, if it desires their conviction so much. Blood shed is a conviction, too.

In the midst of it, even he is given pause by the reappearance of Sebastian's — his self, perhaps? The writhing mass of shadows and eyes, of teeth and abstract qualities that ought to rattle the corners of his sanity if they were not already blown out and exposed to madness long ago. Through Communion, he briefly empties himself from his body to truly behold the demon; though the bruising bite of fingers on his hips keeps him moored, he deigns to unveil himself in the clasp of their minds to that gnashing, lashing aspect. To reach a hand out, as if he could gather it across his palm or sink his fingers into it. Is it any wonder, that he is drawn to dark things? To bodiless entities unbound and amorphous?

Some part of him is the same, after all. The desert is practically a liquid, sands twisting and shaping anything he so desires them to. He, himself, is as amorphous in quality as Sebastian's true self; a shapeshifter, that finds its likeness in something deeply dangerous. He does feel an instinctive fear, to behold that shadow. It is just, moreso than fear, he is curious. Maybe that is also why he draws his tongue through the injury, dipping it into the hollow of Sebastian's eye — even though immediately, afterwards, he looks nauseated by what he's done.

Briefly, he covers his mouth with both hands, a grimace and a shiver rolling through him.

]

Blech, [ is his immediate response, following Sebastian's winsome words.

Followed by a reflective: ] No, actually. It did not taste of blood and gore at all.

[ Which is a BIG PLUS??, because Set is a staunch vegetarian and that makes Sebastian not a plant or animal, but a secret third thing.

He tries to recover, still a little quakey from the taste. The sensation of it, the pain in his hips and the way Sebastian has dropped the honorific from his name. It's all a little dizzying, layers upon layers of movement he must keep track of. He has to find his voice, to ensure it doesn't wobble when he rasps out his clever little question. Finding potential purchase, as he had upon the Scorching Isles. ]

Oh? Are you suggesting that you owe me for this, Sebastian?

set and sebastian said https://pbs.twimg.com/tweet_video_thumb/ETvn5x2WoAADcg5.jpg

[cutlery]

[ His grip relaxes, though there’s a gentle tremor in his fingers for the moment. It’s a response to the subsiding, but still stinging pain, but of course not a human one. It’s more an expression of self-control than anything, for his instincts want to respond with violence in return. Though as it fades, Set’s reaction helps ground him further. Set isn’t the only one to find all of this dizzying, though Sebastian’s is more typical, for once. ]

Please. It is more that I shall not strike you again once all this is done.

[ And he has his brutish strength returned, most importantly.

Sebastian pulls his hands back from Set, and one reaches up to delicately feel the results of his handiwork. It’s better, certainly, and he is grateful for Set’s assistance, though this is about the extent of acknowledgement he’ll get for it. If he says too much, then indeed, it really will sound like he’ll owe him. How terrible that would be.

More importantly, though: ]

You may use the handkerchief if you wish to wipe the taste away. I am surprised you took a… taste, if such things are not to your fancy.

welcome to hell (again) kenos,

[redsoil]

[ No, he'll just suffer in loud silence while he attempts to figure out if the taste was really that bad, or just offputting. After all, the men of Egypt had thought him a deity that dined on the ib of humans, a heart-eating creature that sought blood and flesh and soul alike. Ironic, then, to be delivering his educational desires into the hands of a creature that actually did have a diet that consisted of souls.

He rubs the pad of his finger over his tongue, as if to scour away the taste. The sensation. He feels the ache where the demon had clutched at him reflexively, and folds the handkerchief over itself before just — stuffing it back into the inner pocket of Sebastian's jacket. Gremlin. Horrible gremlin. ]

Oh, one never knows for sure until they try. Your kind are not populous until a later era, as you have said. To have the opportunity to sample you, even diminished again [ which is an insult but also, set is diminished as well so LESS an insult and more a factual statement, ] is still informative.

[ — he nudges a loose lock of dark hair aside, to take a look at the injury. ]

Besides the obvious, [ being naturally drawn to the dark, being in a contract with Silco, etc. ] what is it that you get out of supporting Zenith's interests?

[ Why not ask? Why not now? ]

forcibly ejects them into space (they survive tho probably :/ unfortunate)

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian makes a sound of frustration as Set stuffs the handkerchief back into his pocket, but he doesn’t remove it either. The damage is already done, and he’ll have to launder this suit anyways, if not just get rid of it. But still, Set’s crass manners spark the most mild, fussy sort of irritation that Sebastian is prone to.

It burns just a bit more brightly as Set calls him diminished, but even without Communion, it’s obviously not as sharp as it had been in the Scorching Isles. It’s not so bad when they’re all in the same situation, at least. ]

…Perhaps. I suppose I would be a bit of a hypocrite to lecture you for taking the taste where you can.

[ He took just about every opportunity he could with Set, though he’s not sure if he’d be as bold. Just like the clean and tidy handkerchief, Sebastian has his principles that he strictly follows. Taking a taste of actual flesh was something reserved for enemies, at least personally, but it was also a tad more meaningful to a demon.

He murmurs a thoughtful note at Set’s question, but it’s not for consideration so much as interest. He supposes it’s a question everyone is asking here in the roots, but he hadn’t expected to receive it all the same. For anyone that knew what he was, it seemed obvious. For those that knew him better, it must be even more. But either way, they do tend to be assumptions that Sebastian doesn’t bother to correct. They’re perfectly true. But that’s the obvious, as Set says.


He sighs, since he still feels… odd, having Set tend to him like this, but fine, he decides. He’ll play along and not make a fuss about it, if only for his own (petty) plans of reputation and appearance. At least the question is a suitable distraction. ]

You see, I could not even walk among humans without being summoned and striking up a Covenant. Luckily humans are greedy things, so I was never waiting too long… But still, to be beholden to their dwindling knowledge just to be able to step into their world is never something I liked. Here, I needn’t even strike up a Covenant in the first place, should I not wish to. Lady Yima assured that what shackles I take up shall always be those I readily choose.

[ He looks up to Set, and even with his single eye, his gaze is still captivating in its attention. It gives more weight to the shorter version of his answer. ]

Zenith gives me freedom. A radical, impossible sort.

[redsoil]

[ Knowing that Sebastian is not human, Set feels he can comprehend the mutual simplicity and complexity of what Zenith embodies for Sebastian. Naturally, there is the matter of his and Silco's contract, and that upholding it is easier while joined with the same faction as his master. Naturally, there is the draw of the darkness. And then? There is what is unnatural. The freedom that Sebastian speaks of is something that resonates with Set, a promise for something that breaks the parameters of one's being.

To Set, those parameters are what give him the right to wield his authority and power. He may not have the free will of a human, but he can only ever embody that which he is among the fabric of reality. To break those parameters? It invites all sorts of malady, all sorts of influence. Perhaps that is why he smiles so winsomely, lifting his chin a little as he gazes down at the demon. As he slips his arms around his shoulders and lightly gathers his fingers along the nape of his neck, knees tucked against the roots he sits upon — until he simply slides himself across one thigh, hiking his heel up on the branch.

Fucking indulgent piece of shit god. ] That which is radical is not orderly, Sebastian.

[ It is insightful of him, and not at all a condemnation. ]

How intriguing, that she the power to change and influence even you. For if she does — why not me?

[ hearkening back, of course, to their YOU KNOW WHAT ]

[cutlery]

[ Their game includes physical intimacy at its core, but still, Sebastian is surprised enough to laugh as Set slips into his space. Perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise, since it’s not the first time they’ve engaged in it in view of others… But certainly it hadn’t been in a setting so fraught. Spitefully, he hopes Hayame sees this, but he won’t look to see, lest he draw her further ire. He’s quite sure he would be the one to bear the brunt of it so long as he was present to be the target. ]

No, it is not. To even allow me to be unshackled is a decision that comes from chaos, I think. Were Kenos to have plucked another demon instead of I, it could have been a ruinous decision. Assuming there is deciding in it at all, of course.

[ It’s something he’s mulled over a few times. Among the upper ranks of demons, it was more common to find ones with more principled and conciliatory personalities like he had, but still rare. His brethren would have rejoiced for their freedom, then ransacked this world to feast on all its pleasures. Chaos for the sheer sake of it.

Sebastian trails a gloved hand along Set’s leg with the rhythm of it being idle, though of course it’s anything but. It’s teasing, perhaps, because truly, set why, but purposeful. ]

Oh? Is that what you want of me? [ That part is definitely teasing, but he’s more serious as he continues. ] I do not find it all that intriguing. I am given free reign, and so I appreciate it. Otherwise, what Lady Yima and I have agreed upon is purely business. I have no more loyalty to her than any other that buys it. You will never find me among her ranks of sycophants, for trusting anything that offers you precisely what your heart desires is foolish.

[redsoil]

Truly, it is a decision I favor.

[ And why would he not! Some individuals are better off Zenites, and some are better off Meridians, and some could fairly walk either path — Sebastian, he feels, ought to never be granted the power of 'light' in any capacity, lest it unmake him at his core. What a stupid end that would be, too. He's counting on the demon to be entertaining at all times, until some manner of, what?

An "end"?

Are the two of them even capable of ending anything? It remains to be seen, if they are even capable of tiring of one another. Maybe then, there could be an end in sight. For now, Set parks himself right there along the maimed demon's body ( rip silco ) and engages him in a little conversation. About sides, and agreements. He does not even swat at that errant hand, sorry to anyone who looks over. As if being observed in Sebastian's presence is as much a thing he wishes to show off, and to allow them to draw conclusions over, as it is for the other. ]

You may believe that is what I want from you, if it finds you purchase in me.

[ He's not entirely stupid about words like this, just new. With Sebastian, he always feels like he lives in an eternal dance, sharp and ready to be brought to bear at any moment, and lowered in the next. Set feels if he were to name something concrete that he desired, some end goal, it would give Sebastian leverage over him; if Sebastian does not require a contract, and instead just continues to dabble in them like the masochistic perv he is, that's his thing! ]

For now, to be taught by you and provide you with someone to teach is good enough. I do not know if we would be any good, if we locked ourselves into a contract together.

[ But, he allows Sebastian to know that he has considered it. ]

says the other do-m

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian laughs at the non-answer, amused. It is indeed why he was willing to take Set on as a… pupil, he supposes, though it feels an odd descriptor. If he were wholly new to the art of carefully picked words and equally purposeful actions, it would be no fun at all. A game with no challenge is hardly worth playing in the first place. ]

Hm… I could see circumstances in which you would find it an appealing quarry. Not necessarily with the conflict Kenos provides, though. The power to shape something like me has an appeal. But to want it, I think you would be aspiring to something different.

[ It’s not as if Set had asked for that elaboration, but Sebastian sees no harm in giving it. What he alludes to is something that he doesn’t think Set has much interest in. At best, it would be a passing fancy in the same way the thought has crossed Sebastian’s mind at times. Were they possessed of their normal abilities, is this a realm they could simply conquer and bend to their will? In that case, an ancient demon’s loyalty would be invaluable. As would a war god’s, were it his conquest instead.

But that sort of ambition didn’t suit either of them. At least not when there was a goal they found more interesting or important first.

His fingers twirl a circle on Set’s skin, but he then sets his hand to rest on the god’s thigh. It’s where his hand would naturally come to rest without having to shift, but it still speaks to a certain comfort in each other’s presence. Scandalous, surely. Sebastian half-misses the social conventions of England when he’s with Set if only for how much trouble they could cause. ]

Even so, I am inclined to agree. I think the most fun we would have would be the negotiating of terms. Why, I believe you would run circles around even my most clever masters for those!

[ …Honestly, he’s tempted to one day bring it up as a fun theoretical game at the Last Dance sometime. They’ll likely talk for hours until kicked out by someone annoyed by their nitpicking of the finer points of language and intent. ]

I imagine your wish would be a difficult one, even for me. Perhaps even impossible, if I am honest.