[Trapped within arm’s reach, buzzing drunkenly around the forest of leaf and stem as Set grapples with him, there is little Liem can do to evade the blows the god rains upon his person. He is slashed and bitten and battered, his inexperience with close-quarters combat making itself lamentably obvious in his futile attempts to wriggle, shove, and claw his way out of Set’s grasp. The cuts to his flesh hamper him sorely, though they bleed only little before his natural regeneration stems the sluggish flow, but the knee to his gut knocks the wind right out of him. He folds around the limb like an empty plastic bag, the buzzing of his wings halting outright, dropping them both into the cage of huge green stalks below.
For a moment, as they tumble groundward, Liem’s world narrows; he is being bounced around like a pinball, struggling to draw breath with lungs that seem to have gone completely unresponsive, and resisting the sudden urge to eject the meagre contents of his stomach on the way down. He does not immediately register what Set has said to him, or understand the significance of the solid, rectangular object he’s been further walloped with.
His view of Set’s tear-streaked face is obscured for a moment by that of a young, dark-haired boy.
And he doesn’t understand. He still doesn’t understand what could have driven Set, here and now, into such despair — and the abuse he’s taken hasn’t helped him figure it out. Perhaps his brain has been rattled around one too many times.]
Get off of me…
[And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t hit him in the stomach again, or no one will enjoy the consequences. His voice comes out as a wheeze as he clutches uncomprehendingly at the leaf-wrapped shape still lying against his chest, too stunned to know what it is except that it belongs to him.]
Whatever he’s done to you… Just let me kill him.
[Many problems can be solved with a well-aimed killing.]
no subject
For a moment, as they tumble groundward, Liem’s world narrows; he is being bounced around like a pinball, struggling to draw breath with lungs that seem to have gone completely unresponsive, and resisting the sudden urge to eject the meagre contents of his stomach on the way down. He does not immediately register what Set has said to him, or understand the significance of the solid, rectangular object he’s been further walloped with.
His view of Set’s tear-streaked face is obscured for a moment by that of a young, dark-haired boy.
And he doesn’t understand. He still doesn’t understand what could have driven Set, here and now, into such despair — and the abuse he’s taken hasn’t helped him figure it out. Perhaps his brain has been rattled around one too many times.]
Get off of me…
[And for the love of all that’s holy, don’t hit him in the stomach again, or no one will enjoy the consequences. His voice comes out as a wheeze as he clutches uncomprehendingly at the leaf-wrapped shape still lying against his chest, too stunned to know what it is except that it belongs to him.]
Whatever he’s done to you… Just let me kill him.
[Many problems can be solved with a well-aimed killing.]