[ — the world shifts, gnawing at his entire being, as Amos stretches out his hand.
Set spares a surprised glance behind himself, at the collapse of gravity behind him and the point of extreme pressure devouring everything in nearby space. He feels his heels drag at the ground, and even as he digs himself into the soil below, he feels portions of his own body torn away from him — spiraling into pale sands that are swallowed up by the well of darkness. It's a hell of a weapon, and one his eyes devour hungrily.
Imagine, if he could harness that, too. Like he harnessed the knowledge of Amos's own gun, in part, to build the thing that he did. His head whips back around as the man carries on forward, unaffected by the depths of his own power, and Set's expression — isn't afraid, isn't really spiteful or mocking now. It's just bright, in a way that betrays that he's impressed, even as he sinks to his knees and digs his fingers into the ground. Feeling impressed aside, he doesn't want to go down here.
It'd mean failing Anubis, because he knows Amos will destroy him. ( Shit. ) ]
Amos Burton, [ he drawls, as he begins to dwindle down to nothing, eyes focused on the man before him. The scent of something rising from him. Set's own hope, that — this won't be the end. His stalwart faith that he will continue to be, even though there is no sign... that he will be spared. ] Do not be a hypocrite. You have to be realistic about these things.
[ And then the rest of Set's form fades into sand, swallowed up by the black hole until all that remains is his shard — an unpolished thing of red jasper, jagged and raw, hovering in the midst of the void. ]
no subject
Set spares a surprised glance behind himself, at the collapse of gravity behind him and the point of extreme pressure devouring everything in nearby space. He feels his heels drag at the ground, and even as he digs himself into the soil below, he feels portions of his own body torn away from him — spiraling into pale sands that are swallowed up by the well of darkness. It's a hell of a weapon, and one his eyes devour hungrily.
Imagine, if he could harness that, too. Like he harnessed the knowledge of Amos's own gun, in part, to build the thing that he did. His head whips back around as the man carries on forward, unaffected by the depths of his own power, and Set's expression — isn't afraid, isn't really spiteful or mocking now. It's just bright, in a way that betrays that he's impressed, even as he sinks to his knees and digs his fingers into the ground. Feeling impressed aside, he doesn't want to go down here.
It'd mean failing Anubis, because he knows Amos will destroy him. ( Shit. ) ]
Amos Burton, [ he drawls, as he begins to dwindle down to nothing, eyes focused on the man before him. The scent of something rising from him. Set's own hope, that — this won't be the end. His stalwart faith that he will continue to be, even though there is no sign... that he will be spared. ] Do not be a hypocrite. You have to be realistic about these things.
[ And then the rest of Set's form fades into sand, swallowed up by the black hole until all that remains is his shard — an unpolished thing of red jasper, jagged and raw, hovering in the midst of the void. ]