[ ever since their understanding was reached, the sharper edges of Rudbeckia's mind soften at the touch of Set's presence; a frozen flower bud that thaws under the sun, does not bloom in full but unfurls, slowly, cautiously. some anxiety always remains, mere background noise of her existence rather than a fear ignited by him. she circles him at his feet, waiting to receive his attentions.
there is something else, though. the two of them become entangled so easily that she cannot stop the sensations from bleeding through: her head swimming with nausea, stomach turning itself over. pain that splinters her skull, every inch of her body screaming with agony as though she had been crawling through a river of broken glass. she is reduced to a shivering, trembling animal. and yet her Communion carries no distress, no outstretched hand in plea for his help. the voice that reaches him is soft and sleepy, and as she rouses, all the sickness and pain is reeled in, shut safely away so that he can no longer feel it. ]
Um, Gen left something with me to give to you... [ an image follows, a familiar set of ornate canopic jars, resting on the soft bed of a wicker basket. Ruby is curled protectively around the scene, but she does not lay a finger on the jars. ] I'm looking after them at the shrine.
early iqnu.
[ ever since their understanding was reached, the sharper edges of Rudbeckia's mind soften at the touch of Set's presence; a frozen flower bud that thaws under the sun, does not bloom in full but unfurls, slowly, cautiously. some anxiety always remains, mere background noise of her existence rather than a fear ignited by him. she circles him at his feet, waiting to receive his attentions.
there is something else, though. the two of them become entangled so easily that she cannot stop the sensations from bleeding through: her head swimming with nausea, stomach turning itself over. pain that splinters her skull, every inch of her body screaming with agony as though she had been crawling through a river of broken glass. she is reduced to a shivering, trembling animal. and yet her Communion carries no distress, no outstretched hand in plea for his help. the voice that reaches him is soft and sleepy, and as she rouses, all the sickness and pain is reeled in, shut safely away so that he can no longer feel it. ]
Um, Gen left something with me to give to you... [ an image follows, a familiar set of ornate canopic jars, resting on the soft bed of a wicker basket. Ruby is curled protectively around the scene, but she does not lay a finger on the jars. ] I'm looking after them at the shrine.