[ Silco is like a cornered beast, pacing in his office, throwing himself into his chair, then taking to pacing again. Alcohol tastes poor as it is since he had allowed himself a dark gift, and it tastes no better than ash now. He'd tried to drink, but his fingers trembled, and eventually, in a fit of fury he'd thrown the glass against a wall, where alcohol and glass had fallen to a drying, acrid puddle against the wall. The papers from his desk were tossed, and Silco had finally, before Set arrived, collapsed to his chair, his fingers holding his hair messy, and strewn all over it.
Set was one of the few who were allowed the knowledge that he had a cornerstone within his office. He's one of the few who can be welcome in Silco's space without invitation or knowledge that the man is there. That is a precious thing, to a man who trusted nobody, and looked out at the world like it was teeming with enemies instead of potential allies. Set had been one to find away through that heavily constructed suit of armor that Silco trapped himself in, and he found the man with one eye open, staring outward, his lips trembled, and it took Silco longer than normal to ward off Set's hand, but not with a push outward, or a thrashing attempt to dismiss Set's hand from his face. He gripped his wrist, and surged upward, it is not a rejection, but an intense draw, trying to urge Set with the gravity of the circumstance, of what was happening to him.
What he needed from him right now.
His hand is soft, but callused, the faint scars are barely perceptible, but Set, being a god of strife and war, will know them. How could a god of war not understand it? The marks on one's hand, the scars of a life not lived in luxury, the back of his hand revealing that scar that Sebastian had left on it, a sign of their contract β he wanted to scratch it off, burn it off, but he didn't even have a second hand to do so. ]
She's β [ He shook his head, his fingers did not leave Set's wrist. ]
I need to show you where she is.
[ He said it simply, tersely. She was not in danger, his voice said, but he was full of that overspilled cocktail of fear, anger, desperation, and in the end: despair. He knew now what everyone had hinted at but had never come out and told him. he knew now why so many people had looked to him with disdain, or why Voryn Dagoth, curse the man, had laughed at him like he had just heard the punchline to a joke. Why all of them had been laughing at him, mocking him, while he had strode confidently forward.
Made a fool, and it was the first time in his life he didn't have anyone to blame, but himself. ]
Come with me.
[ He aims to lead him to his cornerstone again, this time to teach him a secret even Sebastian didn't know. His mortal flaw had always been the way he kept secrets, and dodged the truth, but for once, he would use it to his advantage. ]
no subject
Set was one of the few who were allowed the knowledge that he had a cornerstone within his office. He's one of the few who can be welcome in Silco's space without invitation or knowledge that the man is there. That is a precious thing, to a man who trusted nobody, and looked out at the world like it was teeming with enemies instead of potential allies. Set had been one to find away through that heavily constructed suit of armor that Silco trapped himself in, and he found the man with one eye open, staring outward, his lips trembled, and it took Silco longer than normal to ward off Set's hand, but not with a push outward, or a thrashing attempt to dismiss Set's hand from his face. He gripped his wrist, and surged upward, it is not a rejection, but an intense draw, trying to urge Set with the gravity of the circumstance, of what was happening to him.
What he needed from him right now.
His hand is soft, but callused, the faint scars are barely perceptible, but Set, being a god of strife and war, will know them. How could a god of war not understand it? The marks on one's hand, the scars of a life not lived in luxury, the back of his hand revealing that scar that Sebastian had left on it, a sign of their contract β he wanted to scratch it off, burn it off, but he didn't even have a second hand to do so. ]
She's β [ He shook his head, his fingers did not leave Set's wrist. ]
I need to show you where she is.
[ He said it simply, tersely. She was not in danger, his voice said, but he was full of that overspilled cocktail of fear, anger, desperation, and in the end: despair. He knew now what everyone had hinted at but had never come out and told him. he knew now why so many people had looked to him with disdain, or why Voryn Dagoth, curse the man, had laughed at him like he had just heard the punchline to a joke. Why all of them had been laughing at him, mocking him, while he had strode confidently forward.
Made a fool, and it was the first time in his life he didn't have anyone to blame, but himself. ]
Come with me.
[ He aims to lead him to his cornerstone again, this time to teach him a secret even Sebastian didn't know. His mortal flaw had always been the way he kept secrets, and dodged the truth, but for once, he would use it to his advantage. ]