![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
IC INBOX ( KENOS ).
|
█ To Commune with Set is to stand barefoot in an endless, scorching desert. The sun illuminates all, scalding the shadows themselves out from underneath whomever enters his dominion; the arch of gentle, distant, waves of sand mask the precarious chasms, towering dunes akin to mountains. The sense of vastness, timelessness, is of particular notice, lending itself to the alien, eldritch quality of his mind. There is a dark storm in the distance, and you know intimately that this divine being is far from benign. You cannot bargain with a force of nature. You can only survive it. |
no subject
With two in his possession, it leaves him nervous and tetchy. Withdrawn and preparing himself for the next time Gen will emerge and demand his attention. The threat that he presents is stark, despite that Set has taken the time to remind himself of Yima's abilities — that if the Zenite chooses to destroy the two jars in his possession, he will stop at nothing to render his choice null and void. And Gen will have destroyed whatever lies between them for nothing at all.
Even that doesn't matter. Desperation still claws at him — fear makes him bluff, hopefully it works, and he doesn't have to beg. ]
No, Gen. What you did, was ask me to abandon you and everything I promised you.
no subject
[ Of course Gen snaps that irate response almost before Set's even finished speaking, his own voice bristling with agitation. Though -- it's not hard to tell that some of the venom's leeched from his demeanor. Maybe it's exhaustion, maybe it's the demoralization of Zenith's loss, or maybe it's something more (they both know it's something more), but he just can't seem to muster the same level of vitriol that he had during the fight for the last Oracle.
He doesn't bother broadcasting that image of Set's object sat near the edge of the cliff any more, the image fading out to instead leave the churning, uneasy darkness of his mindscape. Irritation and upset render the very air hot and itchy to breathe, and there's the sizzle of agitation crackling through the air even when Gen simply glowers at Set for a moment longer, looking for the right words. ]
... I was planning on keeping my end of the deal. [ To his meager credit, the two jars do seem perfectly untouched despite all the chaos that had ravaged the garden. Gen had squirreled them away safe and sound during all of it. ] If you just did as I told you, and didn't intervene when we had the prism, these'd already be back with you. What the hell were you thinking?
no subject
He sees a little more, of the whole being known as Minegishi Gen, now.
Little by little, he tears his attention away from the memory of the image of his jars by the cliff. His heart throbs — did Gen do it? did he throw them off? did he move them away? He cannot see them anymore, he doesn't know. It leads him to stiffen in the physical realm, to bite his bottom lip between sharp teeth until it beads with blood ( and the ghostly impression of that bite might glance across Gen's own mouth — ). ]
I was thinking — [ That it would be difficult to convey the way his mind worked to a mortal, for it was nothing alike. The margins in which he'd captured Gen were unique, he would not think ( nor treat ) anyone the same way that he did this young man. ] I was thinking that I did not want to lose to you, and be seen as unworthy of our promise. And I was also thinking... that I did not want you to destroy my own Reiji. I was thinking that I wanted all of it, and it was wrong that I could not have it.
[ Greedy. ]
no subject
Idiot. [ The response comes whip-quick and fritzing at the edges with irritation, frustration, confusion. ] Stupid shit-for-brains moron. You're a fucking idiot, that's what you are! What the hell would I get out of destroying your things?! All I needed was a way to make sure you'd listen to me during that whole mess, you dumbass!
[ His words are slathered thick with anger, bristling with barbed tension and resentment. But across this vulnerable space of Communion, Set must be able to tell that they're honest, completely devoid of that signature, glossy sheen of falsehood.
Because Gen truly had been desperate to procure Reiji's shard in that moment. Everything, everything else had been nothing more than a means to an end, a mere afterthought. But -- an afterthought is still a thought. He'd held no ill will towards Set in that moment, and perhaps in some corner of his mind, had even felt a shred of guilt in utilizing those jars that way. He truly had had no reason to destroy those objects that Set cherishes so much, just so long as they properly served their purposes of ensuring Set's compliance. (In guaranteeing Reiji's safe return. The only thing that mattered.)
Clearly, it's Set's fault that those jars are now in jeopardy. (-- Gen convinces himself.) It's not like he's threatening these objects now because he wants to. It's just that he has to. He has no choice. (He tells himself.) Gen heaves an agitated, rumbling breath before speaking again, his words low and guttural. ]
Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick these things over the edge right fucking now. I warned you what'd happen if you didn't listen to me.
no subject
[ Because to Set, Gen would get something out of such an act. He'd choose it, after all.
Gen's mind sparks with something disorderly and rude, and Set leans into it like a cat seeking a good scratch. The truth in his emotions resonates, in a sickly sweet way that the war god gathers into his arms and strokes with his thumbs like silk, slick with oil and rot. If nothing else, he treasures Gen's harsh honesty; it is much like Set's own, which is ruthless and oft-cruel. He does not lie, even if he avoids. He does not form deep grudges easily, because he is so old and eternal that to harbor a grudge against someone who will be dead for longer than he has known them feels like a waste of energy.
But, Gen does sit on the edge of a fatal grudge, because of what he has in his possession. ]
You could have come to me. We could have talked, and I would have listened to you and held you like before. I understand how much he means to you.
[ Why didn't you let me be there when you needed me? He had said, and Set gestures to the memory of a set of four jars, the animal-heads upon them, the delicate carving of hieroglyph upon their pale, clay bodies. The sensation of their mild roughness against his hands, the searing agony in his heart as he'd gathered them into his arms and bled and cried and sobbed as someone dark and heavy carved his fingers through Set's hair. Like the sensation of someone leaning predatory and warm across Gen's own back, there is someone upon Set's own.
One good reason. He feels sick as he says it, but this, too, is a cautious manipulation ( bluffing and avoiding the truth won't be enough to stay Gen, but in the end, this will be Gen's choice; nobody will force his hand ). ] Those jars hold my son's soul, the same as Reiji's Shard holds his.
no subject
[ Gen's anger flares once more, his words bristling like a dog's raised hackles. It's unsteady, though. His rage isn't the red-hot flare of heated steel, but the sputtering of an bonfire built over water, the flame roaring hot one moment then flickering the next. Tainted with uncertainty, doubt, denial, even as he continues to snarl, ]
You talk a big game like you know everything about me -- what the hell do you think you know! You understand me?! You fucking wish! You don't know anything about me and Reiji!
[ So he says, but Set is right. Gen knows Set is right. And across the vulnerable space of Communion, Set must also feel the way Gen knows he's right.
Yes, some part of him would have cackled with glee at the prospect of shattering those jars and watching Set's face warp with despair. He's cruel, after all, and relishes in the pain of those he likes and loves. An ugly brute, a sadist. A part of him would have gleefully smashed a jar over Set's own head, just to rub salt in the wound, in hopes of watching Set break.
He hates it. He hates that Set is right, and he hates that part of himself. He hates that he's fought so desperately to keep it chained up and hidden, but Set would speak of it so openly. He hates that Set knows that about him, but still claims he would have been there for him -- it's a lie, it has to be, because that's wrong. There's the phantom sensation of bile rising to the back of the throat, an acrid sting accompanied by a sick churning of the stomach. Gen laboriously swallows it back as he always does, eyes watering and pulse ringing in his ears; he hates this, too, the familiar way his body seems to revolt against his own thoughts when he's stressed like this.
That's why he says what he says next, he tells himself. It's Set's fault. Set goaded him into it. Set's the reason he snaps -- ]
So what if those things are your son? [ Unseen, he smiles wolfish and cruel. (It's forced. His words come strained.) That's what Set wants and expects from him, right? Fine, then. ] You should've thought about that before you disobeyed me. You really are insane, picking a fight with me when your own son was on the line.
no subject
[ Gen is faltering.
Confused and resistant, and Set feels positively ( giddy ) sick that he is using his son as a blade against this young man. That he is grinding salt into Gen's unseen vulnerabilities where he is flayed and open and festering at the same time that his own scars are lashed open and Gen can probably see down, down into the soft, fragile interior of his soul. Into the image of Set, wide-eyed and beaten down, curling his hands desperately toward his ruined son, even as the cool, dark eyes of another man looks down upon him and says: You know what you have to do, and brings him to heel. ]
I didn't want to give up on you. I thought you would like to know that I think you can choose differently.
[ A murmur, even as his entire mind clenches with the sickly heat of someone who will beg — he will beg, he will plead, he will give Gen anything to stop him from going through with this and it will ruin them. It will unravel them, so he is as desperate to stop it as he is to save his child. ]
I adore you for your rot, but I would adore you for mercy, too. I will follow your choices, no matter what. Because these are your choices, from the moment you decided to involve me not as yours, but as an animal to be unleashed. I need you to understand that the difference between giving him back to me and destroying him will be the difference between my yearning for your happiness, and my yearning for your despair.
[ He will stop at nothing to rob Gen of all his dreams, his death, his Reiji, if he chooses to destroy Set's heart. He won't say it, he'll just devote himself to it.
So, he leans into Gen's mind, straining to lay hand upon him as if they were together in person. As if he could drape over his spine and wrap his arms around his belly, a warm weight upon him, breath soft on his neck. Softly, with something heavy and bereft hidden in his throat, he begs gently: ] Please give my son back to me, the way I gave Reiji back to you. Let me spare you this pain, I will hold it for you instead.
no subject
Though Set will find out soon enough that the moment of silence is not because Gen has decided to surrender to Set's pleas. No, there's something distinctly disquieting about his long pause; tension crackles in the space between them, unseen but very much felt in the way it dances along the nerves like errant sparks of electricity, prickling shallow but sharp. Then Gen speaks again, quietly, that same shark-like ( cold, lifeless, cruel in an almost caricaturistic way) smile still playing on the low drone of his words. ]
An' when did I ask for you to yearn for my happiness?
[ Set should know better, really. He threatens to yearn for Gen's despair, but doesn't he know that's a dangerous carrot to dangle before the eyes of someone longing for an end?
Gen knows, of course, that it's a dangerous game he's playing. He knows there are worse fates than death. Months in this fantastical world have taught him that there are plenty here who could utterly crush him and reduce him to begging for mercy, and he has no doubt that Set would be amongst them. But with some corner of his heart desperately longing for oblivion, it's so difficult thinking this through in rational terms. A part of him just wants to drag Set down with him as he chases that dark, dark abyss.
He feels that phantom weight pressing against his back and winding around his side, warm and a little sticky with sweat, and Gen leans into it -- just so he can imagine himself grazing his teeth along the shell of Set's ear. Threatening, as he murmurs, ]
Hey, Set. You said 'too.' You'd adore me for my mercy 'too.' So it's not really what you wanted, is it -- you wanted me to hurt you. You expected me to break my promise. [ Can Set hear it? The quiet grind of ceramic against dirt. The jar nudges ever so slightly closer to that cliff's perilous edge. ] How the hell am I supposed to believe you really would have helped me, if that's the sort of shit you're saying, hm? What would you get from 'being there' for someone like that?
cw the usual toxicity between them
( Do not make him beg, not again. He will lower himself to it, he will do anything he has to. ) ]
When you accepted my challenge, Minegishi Gen. That if I won, I would take you somewhere you could be new and precious. That's when you asked me.
[ In truth, he did expect Gen to break his promise. Not because he's Gen, but because nobody ever really keeps their promise to a traitor-god, a god of betrayers and schemers and evil. This must be what he reaps, he thinks, blinded with the sudden wash of something empty and cold. His mind blinkers out, as if suddenly, he has stopped existing all together. Like he is gone, and all that is left is a memory of him. ( Like he has slipped away, like he will, if Gen breaks this between them. )
( He thinks — if Gen does this, he will deny him everything. He will make sure Gen lives eternally, alone, unseen and locked away in a space so small he cannot draw breath into his lungs, until he cannot remember who he did this for at all. ) ]
I wanted you to choose me, [ he whispers, finally. A rasp in his voice. The same thing he has said, because no matter what Gen thinks, it is the truth. Whether he thought he would lie or betray him or not, there was still the terrible, yearning desire that Gen would see Set's promise for irrefutable truth. That he wouldn't have to test the limits of it, until someone breaks. ] I thought you could break your word, because... you want to win, too. You want to die, more than anything else.
[ He still cannot exist in the join of their minds, emptied out and hidden as he is. Inches from throwing himself into Gen's arms and pleading. He has no dignity, Osiris ensured he would never have pride or dignity or power when it comes to Anubis ever again. Maybe that is why he is drawn to Gen — because in some ways, he fills a space where someone once was. ( He cannot, he cannot think that way, because Gen is Gen. He is horrible and cruel, but he is also the boy who Set held in his arms in the roots and promised to fight against and for. )
Instead, he snaps: ]
'Being there' for someone like you, is just what I want to do. You annoying brat! I want it, and I will not be told I cannot have it because you have it in your head that you can get what you want by acting like this! Amos Burton can tell me to stay away from you all he wants, people can look at me as if I am a traitor to Meridian's stupid, disgusting cause — ! I do not care, I want what I want!
no subject
( -- 'I will carry you with me, and treat you preciously as someone new in our next life.' Those words from Set haunt him, whispering to him from somewhere deep in his heart no matter how hard he tries to smother them. Happiness isn't meant for him. He knows it as fact. Minegishi Gen was never meant to for happiness, and will wither and rot in the end. But foolishly, desperately, selfishly, he can't help yearning for it, and Set's promise of happiness in another place, in another life, as another person, is perhaps the only way he can permit himself that desire.
Just as much as he hates himself for hungry for Set's pain, he hates himself for being unable to give up on that distant hope. He hates Set for having offered him that lifeline, and hates Set for being so magnetic as to making it seem viable. He hates Set for being his distant sun. ) ]
... should you be raisin' your voice against me like that?
[ His words remains as demeaning as ever, a barbed reminder to Set of what exactly is at stake here. But there's an exhaustion there, now, and a weight to his words. Anger is always harder to maintain once its lost its momentum, after all; spite might carry him through the rest of this act, but it lacks the drive of rage in this moment, requiring him to willfully claw his way forward.
He can't back off, can he? It'd defeat the entire purpose of issuing a threat in the first place. If he backs off now and shows Set any mercy, then how can he retain any control in the future? ( 'Why didn't you let me be there for you when you needed someone on your side?' Those words, too, keep ringing in his ears. His head hurts. He wants to stop thinking. ) He didn't do anything wrong; all he'd done was what had to be done to keep Reiji safe. There had been no other choice.
The landscape of Gen's mind quiets further, though Set will probably find no comfort in this. ]
I've heard enough from you. [ Gen's response comes flat and ironed flat, like he's willfully tried to purge the emotions from his words. ] I'm done with this talk.
[ What of the jars? He doesn't know. -- he'll deal with them. He'll shatter them like he's supposed to. Later. A bit later. Just after he's rested. But he will, he will. He has to. ]
no subject
[ Raise his voice to Gen, he means.
Set's voice falls to a rasp, that dry and harsh little whisper that always comes from deep below his sternum. He is not a small man, not a slight creature, but one of strong, lean muscle and a beauty that transcends a given binary; in the clutch of their minds, his brow knits, red and tight and wrinkled in the middle as his mouth pulls down. Down further, and smooths out from a frown into a wobbling line. A shaking thing, his sharp teeth pressing into the back edge of his bottom lip. Biting until he tastes blood.
In that moment, he does fear Gen. As much as he wants to sink his teeth into him and drag him out of his hole like a wayward pup, fling him to the dirt and slap him until he cries. Bite him, until he's so scarred he cannot see himself save for what Set's done to him. He wants him to never be able to put their promise away again, no matter what they do to one another — because, even though Gen threatened his son, even though Set was and remains inches from giving in and fleeing to Zenith and betraying them entirely,
he has to dig his heels in. He has to think he can have it all.
Even though Gen irons himself flat. Lusterless and black, bleak and silent. Set's heart hammers against his rib cage, his throat constricts and his hands reach toward the young man as he draws back, as he calls them 'done'. ]
Gen —
[ He calls his name, once. Tries to speak on experience, because there is a similarity between them. Before Gen goes, before he silences their connection entirely, before he gives into that great dark thing inside of himself and breaks something because he has to ( set understands, but he does not give gen anything from his mind, not right now ). He just has to say it, before the connection closes: ]
I think, Reiji and Anubis have had enough of people using them to hurt us. Of being hurt by others. Consider it.
no subject
That concession is the only reason he permits the connection stay open long enough for Set to speak his piece.
( '-- have had enough of people using them to hurt us.' An image flashes just briefly, dragged so violently to the forefront of Gen's mind that Set must be able to see it, if only for a split second. A beautiful woman, all pale hair and soft eyes and a doting smile, along with the phantom sensation of fingers brushing down his throat. But along with her, she brings a blood-curdling, stomach-churning wave of hatred and dread and hurt. ) ]
I told you before, didn't I. [ That image is dragged back into the darkness, like choking back a wave of nausea. Gen grits his words, quietly, past metaphorical clenched teeth; Set must be able to picture how pallid his face is, from the strain in his voice. ] Don't go talking like you know anything about him.
[ And if the note of finality in his words weren't indication enough, maybe what follows will be enough to shut Set up.
Gen's vision, channeled right through to Set. The same cliff, the same dry wind stinging at the skin, the same scent of dirt and cold air that sting against the nose. The same darkness that waits below as one of the jars hurtles off the edge of the cliff, spinning top over bottom as it goes plummeting out of sight.
-- is Set lucid enough to pick up on them? The tiny, tiny hints that suggest that something isn't right. There'd been no sound of pottery gritting against dirt, no thump of a bootsole kicking that precious object over the edge, no whistle of the wind against those curved edges as the jar sailed into oblivion. It's only an image, after all -- a Silent Image that Gen has cast hurtling over the edge of the cliff into the darkness, meant to teach Set a lesson and punish him for presuming to know anything about Reiji.
But whether Set can fight back his distress enough to notice those little hints or not doesn't matter. Gen barely lets the image sink in before slamming the connection between them shut. ]