redsoil | IC INBOX ( KENOS ).

[ It starts with the feeling of a hand upon Set's face. The desire to taste the madness that the god has is overwhelming. Because he is drunk on victory. He wants to feel the wallowing shame and misery that the war god must be struggling under. So, he reaches out with a soft, comforting touch. ]

I hope that you made it back with no injuries. I would be sad if you were hurt.

[ He can't move. Sleep has taken him brutally, left him half-roused and vulnerable in his sprawled state -- somewhere in the bowels of the Last Dance, he is full of drink and smoke and exhaustion. When Archangel finds him through their Communion, he cannot ward him off; they are of the same aspect, after all.

He is touched, and when his consciousness rises, he feels paralyzed. A sense of dread, of sickly-sweet heat, a wanting for the familiarity of being woken by a soft touch upon his face. For a moment, he mistakes Archangel's voice, and though he cannot move himself, his brain stutters between (relief) and (horror).

Breathily, he says, as if caught in a dream: ] Are you done with your duties already, snt.nb?

[ He suffers from some confusion due to what Set calls him. He can't quite hide it, but he does soak in the emotions that he senses from him. His touch remains adoring and affectionate; he offers the feeling of a pleased smile. ]

I've completed what I had to, Set. [ Archangel gave up so much sand to save people, but his memories were returned to him. He came to find he is still benevolent and forgiving even without memories to tie him down. If he could think on it logically, he would be forced to acknowledge his madness has rotted his soul completely and utterly. ]

I'm only sorry that I took victory away from you.

[ Sleep paralysis. The Meridian's suffer it now, in their loss; a pang of loneliness that can only be soothed by the presence of their own, and the Discord associated with his repeated trips to the Beyond -- they culminate in this disabused state, where he cannot move his limbs, where his mind is muddled by sleep and substance. He rubs his cheek into the press of Archangel's fingers, like a tired cat that's seeking a particular warmth.

( Sickening. Wake up. Remember yourself. ) ]

Mm, it will be mine whether I am there or not.

[ Clearly, he thinks that Archangel is someone else. ( Someone he loves, hates. ) ]

You called, I came. Why don't you rest... even you must.

[ He laughs. It is a soft, pleasant sound for once. ]

Of course, it will be.

[ Archangel replies in a good-natured way. Why wouldn't he? He is getting everything that he wants from this encounter. If only Dextera could be so obedient. He sends the feeling of a warm smile. ]

Even if I must, I can't. I am still seeking it, you know... your salvation, your happiness.

[ Hazily, he feels something is wrong about this whole situation. No one should be so good to him, nor seek his happiness. It reminds him of his brother, of the machinations he works within — efforts to drive Set insane, to death, into his arms. Maybe the shock of adrenaline at the recollection is what drives him to fight the paralysis, to shove his way through his own body's weakness and sit up.

Sudden, fast, a gasp for air in the midst of the Communion. ] — you!

[ Like a cat that's been pet the wrong way, he tugs himself away from that stroking hand. His own hands rub at the spots he's been touched, like he's trying to shove off the sensation. He cannot dive away from Archangel, though — something exhausted still has him, seeking his fellow Savant's contact guiltily. ]

Why are you here! What are you even saying this time!

Edited 2023-02-10 19:48 (UTC)

Yes.

[ Perhaps, it is insult to injury, but he casually replies. Like Set is the one that is acting up and being unreasonable. ]

Why am I here? I believe I said as much... I was worried about how you were doing. I came to find out that those that failed suffered some unfortunate side effects. [ Archangel, at least, gives the feeling of pulling away. He no longer sends the sensation of softly petting Set's hair and caressing his face. Pity. ]

Even if you don't believe it, I do care about you.

[ He curls, away from Archangel but unable to go far. They are Savant, and thus open to one another at all times; no matter how far he attempts to pull, he is equally pressed up against the man — bound by their same nature, horrible and intensive. Some lingering part of his paralyzed consciousness rolls against the hand that had once been touching him, before he seizes at it and tries to strangle it into submission. ]

You find me resting and think to touch me? How daring of you! You impertinent man.

[ Bitterly, he does bare his teeth. ]

— do not patronize me. Tell me what you really want.

Would you rather I woke up you rudely? [ His laugh is soft and gentle. ] Actually, I think you would. I have a feeling that you believe you deserve only cruel treatment.

[ But he sends a smile. ] Yet I have no desire to treat you in such a way. I wish to look after you even if we are on opposite sides.

[ Archangel is good at digging up the truth of him. That he would, in fact, rather be woken harshly — even if only by this man. The sentiment trickles through their bond, intuitive and intrinsic between their aspects. He tries to push, to find the truth of the Archangel's mind as well.

Does he really care? He speaks so sweetly, he cannot mean it. Perhaps it's what pushes Set forth now, for if retreat does not do him any good, he will fight. Fight back, until he explodes. ]

No, you do not.

[ It's his turn to lay a hand on the other, to flatten his palm to the space where Archangel's heart would lay. ]

If you did, you would — listen, to me. Not insist. Are you able to do that, Archangel?

[ The push is met with yielding because the truth is that he does care. Just beneath that caring is a sense of satisfaction and pleasure that a god can be so weak; it reaffirms a few things for him. It helps him to feel more sure of himself, and that is why he can't leave Set alone.

Well, one of the various reasons why, but he is willing to let him dig the truth out that he cares -- that he is being honest just that there is something beneath that sincere caring emotion. ]

I am listening to you. What is it that you want to say to me?

[ Imagine getting your sense of self and power from a very fucked up god, couldn't be Archangel!

Fine, fine. Their connection means that as he pushes himself forward, into the clutch of their Communion and the aspect they share, that he can feel that the Archangel cares. It's alarming, in its reality. It is something he cannot trust, though. The care that the other man brings to the table is the same 'care' that his own kin espouses, the kind with compulsive madness below it.

Set draws closer. ] I cannot let you 'save' me. Cornering me with promises of your salvation is not what I want.

[ He says it, as he leans over the other; as his hands flit to Archangel's face and cradle his jaw. ]

There is nothing a dangerous, sweet-tongued man like you can do to absolve me of what I have done. You would have to care for me, support me, even love me, and let me go. Are you capable of that?

[ He smiles warmly, seemingly pleased at having his face touched. His wings fol around the two of them, as he offers softly spoken words -- for even if this is Communion, what he says is meant only for Set. ]

I can do all of those things if it is for you. [ Indeed, there is a sickness inside of Archangel that he cannot see. His insanity does not cause him pain and so he does not recognize he is even ill. ] In fact, it is something I am hoping you will allow me to do for you.

It is why you feel "cornered" right now because I fear that you will chase off anyone else who wishes to save you.

I am not saying you lack the ability. I am saying I will not allow it.

[ Archangel will know, through their connection: Set speaks firmly, but his heart is lacking. It is not weak, but weakened, dealt a crippling blow by the loving tongue of another who cursed him to doubt, to second-guess his own divinity. There is a deep wealth of vulnerability for Archangel to run his hands through, and Set's resistance — while present — is so very brittle.

It is the fact that he wants to be ruined, more than he wants to be saved, that allows him any resistance at all. ]

There is one thing you can do for me, better than anyone else. One thing you can absolve me of, if you so badly crave this — my Discord. And I can do the same for you, Archangel. In this... we are one another's salvation.

How unfortunate. I would hold you closer and better than anyone else could.

[ He speaks in absolutes because it is what he believes. Archangel had wanted to become the Absolute God of his world. His madness - his all-encompassing insanity - tells him that he is capable of accepting and loving all people. If he was not, he would not be able to make a paradise for them. And he wants that paradise for them because if gods exist, they should bleed and suffer for the happiness of others. They should suffocate and force joy down the throats of the unwilling until their lives have nothing but bliss.

Is that not what it means to love their people and bring a world of light? ]

Your Discord? Have you been quite bad, Set?

[ His tone becomes quite teasing even as he gifts his a smile. ]

[ Conviction has always been intoxicating to Set. Ambition sits just below it, the driving force behind an unshakeable belief — the Archangel may be a madman, but he speaks in the same absolutes that Silco does, that Hayame does. That any number of those Set gravitates towards do. Is it any wonder, that despite the revulsion he feels, he feels the shiver roll down his spine — his nature drawing him closer, closer still.

He does not desire the Archangel's salvation ( some part of him does, aching and yearning ), but he does desire his services. They are Savant, and polar opposites in faction, which means they are primed to handle one another's Discord. Set's own is a rising flame, steadied by the crush of a petal belonging to Yima's flower within him. Archangel may be able to sense it, the soft thrum of Zenith potential below Set's skin — just before he traces his fingertips over the bridge of the man's nose.

Across the bow of his mouth. ] Do you prefer the conquest or the spoils, Archangel? The field of battle, or the temple built upon the ashes? You want to hold me, but I feel you enjoy the chase more than you would enjoy genuinely having me.

[ He drops his hand, and though they are in Communion, seizes the blonde by the throat. ]

— what a stupid question, I thought you were a clever man.

[ There's no heat in the words, something mournful and bleak dwells within him. Something practical, pragmatic, and perhaps slightly tired of the fact that Archangel is the only Zenith Savant that he knows ( Cid is another, though he has yet to meet Cid; perhaps one day, though ). And he is perfect for this use, to soothe Discord and invite in harmony once more. ]

If you want to sneak into my mind while I sleep, at least make yourself useful and soothe my Discord, you bastard.

[ He sends a smile -- he wonders if it is as enigmatic as he intends. Set is not wrong. There is only one spoil that he wishes to hold close to him. Everyone else is just everyone else. He will love and absolve them; he will lead them to paradise; he will break and ruin every one of them for the sake of their happiness. But they are not the one he wants.

Archangel did not intend to answer that question but lets out a small sound of surprise at his throat being seized in their connection. ]

Am I not allowed to tease you?

[ Archangel reaches out; one hand rests against the wrist that holds his throat whilst the other dips down. It reaches to sneak beneath the folds of the cloth that Set uses to cover himself. ]

Well, since you are so upset with me, I can do just that to ease your Discord then.

[ They are in Communion. Communion, and not reality. Things are unreal, ethereal in the depths of the mind; there is something easier, like this. Though the Archangel reaches to touch him so intimately, it is not the same as if it were to happen to his physical form. The crawling revulsion he knows he would feel ( that he does feel — ) when his skin is touched, is simply not there. In Communion, he is freer to be akin to his true self. Fluid and unbound by physics, by rules. The imagination dominates, and so can he. ]

You horndog. I knew you were the type.

[ Berating Archangel will not win him the war, likely not even a battle. Still, there is a sense of satisfaction in this moment, as if he's able to conclude something so intrinsic about the man, apart from his persistence and mad commitment to salvation.

He drops his own hand down, to seize Archangel's wrist. They mirror one another, hands at vulnerable places, hands pinning them in place. He has half a mind to kick him out ( he'd be hard-pressed to do so, since they share an Aspect ), and could never bring himself to ask this guy to be gentle with him. To touch him again the way Archangel did while he was half-asleep and dreaming of someone he'd once adored. Which means, if this is what the Archangel wants, it is what Set will embrace — as if there is nothing else he could ask for. ]

And not even a bit of foreplay! You're like a virgin fumbling for it on his first night! I am going to take my hands away, and so are you. You will put them into mine, and be shown the proper way to do the things we both want — for the alleviation of our Discord, alone.

Is it wrong for me to find you so attractive?

[Unfortunately, he can't feel anything, but there are limits to Communion, it seems. He is starting to find out what those are and lament them. ]

Very well, if that is how you wish to do things, I shall oblige. After all, I am the one that is helping you so I should do things your way. [ Indeed, he decides to say things like that rather than anything else he wished to say. He wondered when he would speak honestly with someone -- the closest he got was Yima. But whatever. ]

Still... I like you better when you're insane and rambling about violence. That part of you is so charming. [ So he says as he holds his hands out as Set said he wanted. ]

You are always going on and on with that audacious tongue of yours.

[ He draws the Archangel's hands into his own, flattening their palms together. To show him, the terribly practical way he will accept touch from a man who disturbs him so greatly, yet could be beneficial. He doesn't know if Communion will allow them to purify Discord from one another, but as he's to come to discern - purification is a rite of vulnerability, and to permit Archangel to remain in his hazy-edged mind is,

well.

Vulnerable. ] You found me in a bad way when we first met. I have had time to ease into things, to find focus. I am still not a savior of anyone, not as you claim to be. What gives you authority to say such a thing, anyways?

Because I am a human that desires to be god.

[ He replies easily; his words are true. ]

I am willing to burn away everything that I am... to sacrifice even being able to touch someone like this... to be unable to experience happiness as a human would. [ His smile softens even as he continues his madness. There is a serene look that takes over his expression. It reaches his eyes because he can talk frankly about his dreams. ] Do you know why?

[ Part of him balks, immediately. Among the Ennead it was known: only those born to divinity would become divine. They did not have demigods born of human mothers, did not have mortal men who rose beyond their station to be rewarded with a throne of their own. The Archangel speaks madness. And he speaks madness, because Set knows there are other pantheons, other ways. He has been faced with the majesty and dignity of the Mahadeva, he has thrown himself against Gilgamesh's blades and disdain, he has hunted alongside Anat of the Levant.

The Archangel has pledged to burn for his dream. It is madness only a mortal being can possess, a hunger only they know, for they are free to imagine such heights, and free to attain them - in some way. ]

Why?

[ He has to know. It grips him, the edge of this thing that makes the Archangel who he is - that riles Set, even as he seeks purification at the hands of his fellow Savant. ]

Go on, tell me your reason. Why you presume to toy with me, to be - [ A sharp laugh escapes him. The verge of madness in him too. ] So impertinent! A human who thinks he will grant a god salvation!

If I cannot, will not, be able to grant it to you, I cannot grant it for all.

[ The teasing smile fades from his lips as his expression becomes much more serious than it did before. He believes that he could show some memories as they are holding each other's hands like this, but decides against it. Better to explain in words than his past, anyway. ]

Because humanity deserves better than what my god has given it. [ They deserve happiness and paradise. If gods exist, joy should not be something people struggle to obtain. ] The same could be said for you. You also deserve better than the lot that you were given.

And I intend to save them all... everyone... everything.

[ Slowly, waveringly, he brings the Archangel's hands to him. He draws them in to himself, setting one at the bottom of his ribcage and the other higher, close to his collarbone; like that, he rolls himself in — across their Communion, deeper into the undeniable allure of their shared aspect. He cannot hide himself from the Archangel, not in Communion.

It is obvious, that Set is intrigued by the conviction; that, like so many others he has accepted for their unshakeable, unwavering desires, he might be able to accept the Archangel, too. Save, that he cannot stomach the idea of being marked for 'salvation'. ]

Archangel.

[ After he places the man's hands to his body, he reaches for him. To card fingers through the blonde of his hair ( ah, he really does have a weakness for blondes i s2g ) and gather the angle of his jaw between his palms. Rolling, sensual and dark, until he can lean over him and blot out the metaphorical light. ]

You do not know enough about me, to account for how much of yourself you would destroy to fill my depths. I am not a god that can be saved by anyone, and your humans will suffer for your infatuation with the idea. Focus on them. If you truly want to feel like you have saved me, we can do this — together.

[ Purify one another's Discord, he means. ( Kick off Archangel's Slut Saga, maybe. ) ]

Would it disappoint you to know that you are not the first person who entertained thoughts like this? I seem to evoke madness in men.

[ The touch is certainly nice, at least. ]

I intend to save all people... there is much of myself I am willing to destroy. [ He does reach up to take hold of Set's hand, to send the feeling, the image, of kissing the inside of the god's wrist as a show of his devotion. ] I shall be satisfied with this... for now.

[ But hm. ]

No, it would not disappoint me. It just means that I must be the first to not give up on you.

IC INBOX ( KENOS ).

a few days after the scorching isles... you thought i was kidding!

oh i have a great idea | cw allusions to sexual assault, victimhood

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how does everyone like gaslighting

love it, like good soup

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cw: spicy

SPICY!!!! archie pls

heard a pls

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