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

[redsoil]

You said so, when we first discussed her. Claude also named her as progenitor, and claimed she had a second name — Sopdet. We found she shares her name with that of a minor goddess from my world, as well. I suppose that might make you and I of the same pantheon.

[ Since they are both descended of gods. He, from Ra. Bylet, from Sothis. It's just, in terms of proliferation of cult and prowess, Set ranks far, far above the Sothis-Sopdet of his reality. He cannot say 'cousins', because technically no god had a blood tie to another. Once ascended, they were all equals and peers. The facsimile of familial bond ( the reality of it, to set ) was maligned by Ra, who thought the trappings of humanity only existed to wear down and corrupt the Ennead.

In the shade, they are a simple step away from the light once more. They can walk between the two, to stave off the worst of the effects. ]

I enjoy science. [ He does!

Myths write about him as being incredibly stupid, but he's not! Emotionally stupid, yes. Intellectually, he's a sponge and always seeks new, better, improved information. ]

I will enjoy your song, first. Let me hear the words, and then tell me about it — why it is you choose to sing it here.

[fishfearme]

[The same pantheon? Sothis had claimed no siblings or peers, only her many children of both the Nabateans and Fodlan humans. Byleth had even asked if there were others like her, and she had dismissed the question without answering it. Not suspicious when it came to Sothis: being such a contrary, fussy little thing, she took exception to the randomest and innocent of questions.]

Very well. I'll continue to sing. I fear it'll not be in a language known to you, though.

[Sothis had corrected his words when she had heard him sing it the first time (it turned out Jeralt pronounced some of the words wrong when recollecting it from Sitri's singing and, as a result, had given Byleth "an atrocious accent"), and it sounded like nothing in Fodlan or beyond it. A lilting language that was almost haunting and ethereal when raised in song, as if it was evolved through music alone.

His voice was already warmed and prepped, so Byleth rested a hand over his unbeating heart and closed his eyes as he resumed from where he left off. There was something inherently soothing about the song, that coaxed anxieties to settle and worries to seem a little less than they were - almost like a lullaby a mother would sing when soothing their child freshly woken from a nightmare.

(Because that is exactly what this song was - the one Sothis sang to her children, and who in turn sang it to theirs... and which only survived because Rhea had clung to the memory of it with a white-knuckled grip, had crooned it to an artificial vessel that she eventually adopted as her own daughter - because it was a failure in becoming her mother.)

How Set would feel about the song, though... that remained to be seen.]

[redsoil]

[ The language that Byleth begins to sing in is — vaguely familiar, to him. It is not the language of his own lands, but one that is suggestive of a neighboring people; a well-traveled god, he learns languages by osmosis, and employs translators to briefly communicate with the mortals of foreign lands, but the divine voice of the gods is a universal tongue. It is the language of their shared origins, the primordial chaos from which nearly all of them hail — a curiosity that had always meant more to him than it did to his siblings.

So, the language Byleth sings in has a quality he cannot deny that he recognizes. It is hauntingly beautiful in a way he feels impossible to fully admire, for he is a war god of screams and wrathful song, not a god of music like Hathor. Hathor, that vapid bimbo, would appreciate Byleth's singing more than anyone else — she'd probably try to get her horny little claws in him too, she had such an appetite for virgins. Set, on the other hand, stands in the cooling shade with the singing man and,

closes his own eyes.

He cannot recognize a lullaby. The mother who carried him had never shared as intimate a relationship with him as she had her other children; life and peace and magic, beloved by her and crooned to by her, while the war-child seemed invisible, unseen. It is a lovely song, but. It finds no connection in his memory to draw on, and perhaps that, is most disquieting to him. Uncomfortable and guilty, he opens his eyes as the song comes to a close, and turns his eyes away. His face away, as if ashamed to look at Byleth, who has sung for him a song that does not resonate in his heart.

It is pretty. He appreciates it, and he feels terrible that he cannot offer more ( why would he HAVE to offer more?! ). ]

No matter what anyone says of you — [ He says instead. ] You are full of feeling and sentiment, Byleth.

[fishfearme]

[As the song came to a gentle repose, Byleth felt an indescribable emotion as always. A longing without a target, a heavy sadness that had nothing to pin it to, and a comfort that stung just as it soothed. Jeralt had told him Sitri would sing this all the time when pregnant with him, that she had wanted him to know it... that Byleth never heard it from her, only a muddled, half-forgotten version that Jeralt had passed on with an untuned ear.

It was only when Sothis woke up that the song had been polished, refined - but it still wasn't Sitri's. Sothis had changed the words, tweaked the melody back to its original format, and Byleth didn't know if that was how Sitri had sang it, or if it was a tweak she had made herself. He couldn't ask, and Jeralt's increasingly spotty memory couldn't remember. The vague idea of 'Sitri', of 'mother', was further smudged into obscurity, and singing the song only reminded him of that fact. As time advanced, so too did the memory of Sitri drift further away. He didn't even know what she looked like.

A part of him acknowledged that it these emotions were illogical. They served no purpose. Why sing a song that made him feel sad? Because it also made him happy. The human heart was a contrary, self-torturing thing, he was beginning to discover, even if that heart no longer beat.

Byleth pushed these thoughts aside, though, and opened his eyes to Set looking away from him. He couldn't make out his expression, and for a moment Byleth wondered if he found his singing offensive or unpalatable somehow - not hurtful, exactly, but disappointing. He had sang in hopes of uplifting Set's mood in some way, not to upset or annoy him. But before Byleth could apologise for his unsatisfactory voice:]

Wh- I... I am?

[Byleth's voice audibly stumbled, he was taken so off-guard. This was something, he was realising, that was unique to Set. Even though they were still practically strangers - acquaintances, at most - Set saw through his blank expressions and his flat voice and understood the core of him effortlessly. There was no accusation of coldness, of being an unfeeling demon - Set looked at him, barely knew him, and said "you are full of feeling and sentiment".

Not even Claude - not even Jeralt... was this the true omniscience of a god, he couldn't help but wonder. Sothis understood him viscerally too, but as she lived within the very depths of him, could glean his emotions by casting an eye over his thoughts, so she never really counted. Set existed outside of him, and just- understood.]

[redsoil]

What? [ Sharply exclaimed. ] How could you not be? Has someone told you otherwise?

[ That Byleth questions his response is more telling than anything else. It is the question of someone who cannot believe the assessment of their character, of the impartial judgment of someone who looks upon them and sees them for what they are, long before that judgment becomes an idea. Long before that idea becomes informed by knowledge of their life, their experiences and values, the people around them and the things that they say. Set knows not a thing about Byleth, save for that he is the descendent of a god, and that she slumbers within him. ]

You create art. You sing songs. These are the most vibrant, human things that I have ever known. No one without feelings could sing that song and impart the sentiment that you did. No one who does not see the world full of curiosity and color can make atrocious, but meaningful art.

[ He is dumbfounded. How can Byleth question himself like this? ]

— do you think because you do not speak in pitches, or express with the muscles of your face that you are an unfeeling thing? Who has said this to you, I will throttle them!

[fishfearme]

[At a glance, one would assume Byleth unmoved by Set passionate and indignant defence of his capacity to feel. His perplexed expression had smoothed out into something emotionlessly blank, his gaze heavy-lidded as he blinked very slowly at Set in sluggish confusion: but this was how he dealt with truly baffling and overwhelming things. He just blanked.

From a very young age, Byleth had known there was something fundamentally wrong with him. Jeralt loved him despite these abnormalities, though there had always been a thread of unease in his father's tone when he commented on how Byleth had never cried as a baby, had never emoted as a toddler onwards, and as a child would just pin people down with a thousand yard stare that would make even the most battle-hardened mercenary shudder. Jeralt never said it explicitly, but Byleth understood the implication: he had been a creepy, unnatural child. Had anyone but Jeralt been his father, likely his family would've abandoned him in the woods thinking him a changeling.

And this unnaturalness followed him into adulthood, where he learned his father's trade at his heels. Despite his distaste for senseless loss of life, Byleth picked up the blade and became a renowned mercenary. He had a high success rate in his missions, he was pragmatic in his battlefield decisions - and he always aimed to break the enemy quickly to minimise loss of life on both sides. He showed neither sadness or satisfaction in his bloody tasks, and this was what cemented his reputation forever:

Ashen Demon. Heartless mercenary. Unfeeling.

Such is the way of things, he had told himself. Jeralt knew the truth (he hoped). Yet it always felt like a tiny papercut on his unbeating heart every time he was met with fear, wariness or suspicion. Even his allies within the Kingdom army treated him unsurely, and he still recalled with bitterness of Leonie harshly calling him a coldblooded and heartless, and Jeralt not refuting her words at all.

(His father likely thought him above petty insults, but Byleth still recalled how uncomfortable Shez had looked at the time, uncertain on whether he should say anything. Nothing was said.)

Having someone turn around and say: well, it's obvious you're not unfeeling! Like someone saying so was so bafflingly strange it couldn't be computed. Byleth wasn't sure what to say. He never knew what to say when confronted with such situations. His tongue was tied and he felt curiously tight-chested and strange, but Set clearly expected an answer - deserved an answer - so Byleth negotiated with his uncooperative throat to say:]

It's what everyone has said to me, since I was young.

[The figurative everyone, but those who thought otherwise could be counted on one hand, two if he included Sothis and the Claude and Dimitri here in that equation.]

I told you of my situation regarding my heart. It's what makes me wrong and unnatural, and others pick up on this. Such is... the way of things.

[redsoil]

[ Perhaps Set is unbothered by Byleth's lack of affect, because several members of the Ennead ( Tefnut, Bastet, Sekhmet, himself, Horus, even Khnum —— ) wore masks that obscured their faces from sight. Certainly, their mouths were visible to articulate and express, but there was a marked elusiveness to their dealings because their personal marks of divinity obscured them. He has lived among masked gods, and while Set will never claim to be able to easily read someone — for too often, he has entrusted himself to the exterior presentation of self — he would never think that Byleth's lack of affect meant he was unfeeling.

To hear that not just one individual, but many, have told him otherwise offends him on Byleth's behalf. Set bristles with indignation, nose wrinkling as he hears what Byleth says. That he has been told he is heartless, without emotion. Emptied, and why? Because his heart has been bound to a goddess's own? ]

Do you actually wish that to be the way of things?

[ The question comes off a little aggressive, hot-tempered and testy. ]

You do not have to be perceived in such a way, whether your face remains flat as a wall or not. You can [ still escape such a fate ] tell them who you are, you know.

[fishfearme]

I know.

[Byleth's voice came out a little quiet. He understood that nothing would change if neither side stepped forward, but-]

But not many wish to listen. In my world, I'm known as the Ashen Demon due to my battlefield prowess, and that reputation precedes me. Those who encounter me have already made their judgement, and the few who changed it required time and exposure to me, and even then...

[Shez is the closest thing to a 'friend' Byleth had prior to coming to Kenos, and he was someone who knew Byleth from multiple angles: as an enemy, an obstacle, a rival and an ally. But even that had taken several murder attempts, a nearly successful assassination attempt, and several hours of sparring and fighting side by side before reaching that point.

Regular mercenaries were intimidated by his reputation and strength. Civilians thought he was a literal demon given form. Nobles thought him a mere asset to purchase and point at their enemies. Jeralt thought him a kid that he had to shelter and protect - and he wasn't incorrect in his paranoia, with Rhea prowling around.]

...that's why, in a way I like Kenos. No one knows me by the name Ashen Demon. I'm just considered harmlessly weird to others, which allows me to experience positive interactions without fear or suspicion interfering. It's been... nice.

[redsoil]

Well, make them listen!

[ Set, you are such a jock.

He steps forward, to seize at the curve of Byleth's shoulders and hold fast to him. While his mouth settles into a scowl, the heavy red of his brows knits into the most disgruntled look. 'Force' is always his go-to method, because he is a weapon above all else. A war-god who thinks in terms of conquest and submission, but is not entirely bound to physical acts of violence, when violence to the heart and mind were effective tools. Not just a god of battle, he is a god of war — and there is always a particular difference to make note of, lest one find themselves blindsided by him. ]

I do not think Kenos is not the most terrible place, either.

[ it feels like being immersed in a foreign country at times, and he has always loved to travel ]

I think it is a place where you can learn new things, meet new people and find yourself. To be able to return home stronger than ever, of head and heart, means that you will be able to make them see you for who you want to be seen as. Ashen Demon, mercenary, child of a god — who cares! You are someone with the power of choice and change. Here, and in your homeland.

[fishfearme]

[Byleth blinked slowly at Set suddenly clutching at his shoulder, but didn't flinch or struggle - much like when Set had grabbed his jaw and held him fast, he docilely let it happen. By this point, he felt like he had nothing to fear from Set, and if he did, he wasn't afraid to bite or headbutt.]

You're saying I should be more aggressive in convincing others that I'm not an unnatural monster.

[Of course, Byleth interpreted 'aggressively convince' to mean 'be more forthcoming with saying your feelings are hurt when people call your heartless' than 'forcibly change people's minds - somehow'. Despite being a feared mercenary, despite performing his first kill when his hands had been almost too small to wrap around the hilt of his dagger, Byleth was not a violent person. He was not a jock (he was a nerd).]

Set, you're a very unique person. You're the first, aside from my father, who somehow sees the heart of me without needing to know me. But, perhaps being a god gives you more perspective than a mortal would have...

[Byleth's gaze dipped low briefly, then snapped back up. Without lead up or context, he asked:] Does this make us friends?

[redsoil]

[ He rattles Byleth, just a little. Just to drive his point home. ]

Yes! That is exactly what I mean. Stand up for yourself a little more. If you have difficulty understanding your emotions, ask others to help you figure them out. Some of the other humans have been coping with a multitude of complex emotions all their lives — I am certain you have the capacity for the same.

[ Byleth is just a little stunted. ( And after this event is over, he will definitely know that he does not want Byleth to ever think that he cannot feel what he does, express what he feels and investigate himself. He only needs people around him that he trusts, to guide him. Anything less, and he could turn out like Amos Burton, who has divorced himself from emotions so thoroughly that there is no coming back. )

And then he stills. For Byleth says something kind to him that splinters inside of his heart. It sounds like a compliment, to be unique, but he is unique. There is no other like him — and of course his perspective is going to be vastly different, as if viewing the world from above at all times, yet being able to dip low and alight upon the ground to stand among people.

It is the question that fragments within him. Such a delicate question, asked so bluntly: ] I! You! I am not the type of individual who is a very good friend, you know!

[ FAIR WARNING ]

I am, always angry and violent. I can be very mean, and! The things I do, many find disagreeable and dishonorable. That is not the kind of friend you ought to seek out. You should find someone patient and kind, someone doting! Someone human, like you.

[ All the while, his face begins to turn red. Flustering, as his fingers curl against Byleth's shoulders. #tsundereconfirmed ]

[fishfearme]

[Byleth blinked innocently at Set's flustering and his yelling his various deficiencies in his face. It was unnecessary. He already knew that Set was violent and angry and could be mean at times - but he wasn't always so Byleth, and Set's honest kindness to him was what mattered the most. Byleth had been raised amongst mercenaries, and they were not the gentlest or peaceful of people. They didn't mince their words or hold back, because to be harsh was to be kind in their world. Byleth had internalised this.

And while Set's advice was not gently given, but it was breathtakingly sincere. 'Stand up for yourself', 'you have the capacity for emotion', 'there is nothing wrong with you' - said so roughly, almost angrily, but still, so very, very, very genuine. Set clutched at him tightly, almost bruising, but his face was red and slightly scrunched up. He yelled he wouldn't be a good friend - and that was likely true, Byleth wouldn't be a good friend either - and how else was Byleth meant to take that, except further evidence of his assessment of Set?

He was a messy individual, but he was also one of the few who looked Byleth in the eye and said "there is nothing wrong with you".]

But I want to be your friend. [Tit-for-tat, Byleth was utterly sincere in both tone and words.] I don't know this hypothetical patient and kind and doting potential friend. They don't exist for me. But you do, and I like you.

[redsoil]

[ Reciprocity is,

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.

[fishfearme]

[Set looked almost resigned, as if Byleth's sincerity had been a battering ram against his very will. He's a fragile person, isn't he, Byleth couldn't help but think. For a god, he felt very much like a thin pane of glass, easily snapped if one exerted enough pressure in the right spot - vastly different to Sothis, who was as impregnable as several hundred metres of bedrock. Nothing short of a meteor strike would crack her.

It proved that beneath the veneer of divinity, gods were just people: messy, complicated, and very raw. He made a mental note that if Sothis ever awakened in this world, he should remain as a buffer between them. Sothis would eat Set alive.]

Then we're friends. [Said so matter-of-fact, and with a very small yet very genuine smile.] I'll not rate you as good or bad - a friend is a friend in my eyes. After all, Shez and I managed to have an amicable relationship despite trying to kill each other throughout the years. We haven't tried to kill each other yet, so already we've started on the right foot.

[Said. So. Earnestly. Set. This is the bar he has for 'friendship'. It's practically subterranean.]

[redsoil]

[ Gods are not people, though. Set's generation is the most human among his kin, is all. He is undeniably fragile, however; not when facing another inhuman entity, no. When facing a human? An earnest, unstoppable human with the freedom to choose everything, become anything — and being chosen as a friend by them? Absurd! ]

You will regret this.

[ Said in the most TSUNDERE tone imaginable. He's not going to punish Byleth, he just KNOWS Byleth is going to get hurt by this arrangement!! ]

Your home is nearby, right? Let us visit it and look for supplies.

[ and if you want kiva, we can say they did and set WITNESSED THE SHIP WALL ]

[fishfearme]

[OKAY YES Byleth definitely took Set to his home (which was derelict aw) where he had his SHIP WALL and also Clauddles the Golden Deer Plushie (who somehow survived the ravages of time, but was deemed not practical to take along). Set now knows where Byleth lives and of his guilty pleasure reading romance novels and trying to write them himself. Set may do whatever he wishes with this information.]