[ Whatever is wrong with Childe is, deeply unsetting. The lash of water is not a deep threat to Set, except at a precise moment of saturation — but, it reminds him of the flooding of the Nile. The saltwater spill that would swell and swell, drawing forth from the land until it burst over embankment and began to drown the fertile land of the valley of Egypt. He has known his sister and the associated gods of the river to dismiss the lives of humanity with the simple application of divinity, and Childe's waters that drag at the edges of his mind call to him more naturally than Childe might ever know.
He does indeed come to perch upon the surface of the water, colliding with it like a hunting hawk descending from the skies upon fleeing prey. His heels digging into the water's surface and hands descending as if to plunge into the depths and try to reach for the young man suffocating among the corruption — the imagery is evocative to Set, beyond measure. It is the same sort of scene he'd observed when he had carved his own brother up and thrown him into the Nile, into Duat. It is the same sort of dark, bleak corruption that pervades his own soul, as it does Childe's own.
It's so sudden, that Childe's plea arrives and vanishes, that he hardly has time to call back — ] I am coming —!
[ Whether it's just Childe being dramatic or not, it doesn't matter.
He's come to feel a little protective of the young man, who had confided his worries in him, who had come to Meridian at his behest ( force, tbh ), and who had not received his fair dues among them. Set wanted more for Childe, more time and more welcome and more room to grow unfettered by Zenith's tranquility, but always — always, such things were within Childe's power to choose.
He goes. To that place in Childe's consciousness where he's called to, his home in Highstorm — a sprint across Kenos that delivers him to the young man's door as sand, pouring through the cracks of the front door, under it and between the hinges, through the keyhole and generally just — ignoring the fact that he might be able to unlock it. He bursts through like a dune, and reforms in the foyer of Childe's home with a snarl: ] Childe! Where are you?
[ Absolutely radiating menace and something protective. ]
If someone has laid hand on you against your will, I will have their head for it!
no subject
He does indeed come to perch upon the surface of the water, colliding with it like a hunting hawk descending from the skies upon fleeing prey. His heels digging into the water's surface and hands descending as if to plunge into the depths and try to reach for the young man suffocating among the corruption — the imagery is evocative to Set, beyond measure. It is the same sort of scene he'd observed when he had carved his own brother up and thrown him into the Nile, into Duat. It is the same sort of dark, bleak corruption that pervades his own soul, as it does Childe's own.
It's so sudden, that Childe's plea arrives and vanishes, that he hardly has time to call back — ] I am coming —!
[ Whether it's just Childe being dramatic or not, it doesn't matter.
He's come to feel a little protective of the young man, who had confided his worries in him, who had come to Meridian at his behest ( force, tbh ), and who had not received his fair dues among them. Set wanted more for Childe, more time and more welcome and more room to grow unfettered by Zenith's tranquility, but always — always, such things were within Childe's power to choose.
He goes. To that place in Childe's consciousness where he's called to, his home in Highstorm — a sprint across Kenos that delivers him to the young man's door as sand, pouring through the cracks of the front door, under it and between the hinges, through the keyhole and generally just — ignoring the fact that he might be able to unlock it. He bursts through like a dune, and reforms in the foyer of Childe's home with a snarl: ] Childe! Where are you?
[ Absolutely radiating menace and something protective. ]
If someone has laid hand on you against your will, I will have their head for it!