[ — sometimes, Set knocks on the door of Liem's house. Sometimes, he slips in through the smallest of seams between doorways and windows ( left alone, unblocked, because whom else could reach Liem through them but a god who was, simultaneously, a man and infinite grains of sand, slipping single-file through a miniscule gap? ). During the day, he knocks. During the "night", he sneaks in. But, it's never on schedule. Especially not tonight, so far into the month — because holy shit this takes place at the END of the month — and following his demise.
( He had not expected to be blindsided so heartily by Amos Burton, and as much as he loathed that man, he had to respect his ability. Had to concede his loss. Surviving was only due to a precarious, precious relationship he'd clung to determinedly. )
When he arrives at Liem's home, he slips in through the cracks in the window. Filtering through grain-by-grain until there is a sizeable, soft heap of sands below the sill, and from there he begins to creep. Hand over hand, body elongating by finger, knuckle, palm, wrist, forearm, elbow, bicep, shoulder, the dip of his bare spine and the flow of his hair sliding across the ground like fucking sadako of the ring infamy anyways!!! He can smell the salt of tears, of wet cheeks and the scent of a man that —
Well, he's never met Matt in person. But, he's a foreign scent in an environment he comes to often enough, and it's enough to drive him a little mad, wanting to see Liem as badly as he does, and coming across some other person. Set slips across the floor, hands rising to the end of the bed as he leverages himself up, depressing the mattress a little. In the dark, he seems to shine with an inner heat, the ends of his hair molten with red-gold sunlight, heat pouring off of him like the sun at its apex in a ruthless desert, with no shade or oasis in sight. Between locks of red hair, equally red eyes glow. A little hostile, a little accusing.
And he grabs Matt's ankle, hauling him down the length of the bed to the end with a tired, animal noise. ] — you. Glad to see me NOW?
[ ignore him matt he's 3x as insane as when he first came to kenos and just recently came back ( wrong ) from being temporarily dead ]
sadly, bullies matt
( He had not expected to be blindsided so heartily by Amos Burton, and as much as he loathed that man, he had to respect his ability. Had to concede his loss. Surviving was only due to a precarious, precious relationship he'd clung to determinedly. )
When he arrives at Liem's home, he slips in through the cracks in the window. Filtering through grain-by-grain until there is a sizeable, soft heap of sands below the sill, and from there he begins to creep. Hand over hand, body elongating by finger, knuckle, palm, wrist, forearm, elbow, bicep, shoulder, the dip of his bare spine and the flow of his hair sliding across the ground like fucking sadako of the ring infamy anyways!!! He can smell the salt of tears, of wet cheeks and the scent of a man that —
Well, he's never met Matt in person. But, he's a foreign scent in an environment he comes to often enough, and it's enough to drive him a little mad, wanting to see Liem as badly as he does, and coming across some other person. Set slips across the floor, hands rising to the end of the bed as he leverages himself up, depressing the mattress a little. In the dark, he seems to shine with an inner heat, the ends of his hair molten with red-gold sunlight, heat pouring off of him like the sun at its apex in a ruthless desert, with no shade or oasis in sight. Between locks of red hair, equally red eyes glow. A little hostile, a little accusing.
And he grabs Matt's ankle, hauling him down the length of the bed to the end with a tired, animal noise. ] — you. Glad to see me NOW?
[ ignore him matt he's 3x as insane as when he first came to kenos and just recently came back ( wrong ) from being temporarily dead ]