IC INBOX ( KENOS ).

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█ 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. COMPATIBLE WITH: Exalt, Iconoclast REPELLED BY: Advocate

♠

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Would you be able to find any faith in me, if I did not?

[ 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.

[epiprocta]

[ Good point, though Gen would rather die than admit it. A small part of him can't help but being charmed and a little impressed by that fire that Set holds -- the boldness he displays in mouthing off even when the safety of what he holds dear hangs in the balance. The sort of fire that he quietly wishes he had himself -- because maybe things could have been different, maybe he could have helped Reiji better if he had -- even as he does everything he can to squelch it in this moment.

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. ]