IC INBOX ( KENOS ).

[redsoil]

█ 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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[ He knows what he did to her ( what he did not mean to do / what he entirely meant to do ), and so, her call to him is answered in the best way that he knows how — the continuation of the lingering energy between them from among the roots. The elevated mania that sung through him with the feral energy of Meridian, dragging her down into the fires and fray under his will. ]

My self-proclaimed adversary, Caren! How are you! Have you been ingratiating yourself among your peers, or is there trouble brewing on my horizons?

[ He coalesces within her call, a masked man leaning into her space from behind her vulnerable back. Mouth curling. ]

I will always indulge.

[consolation]

You come looking for trouble. [She had named herself his adversary, hadn't she? She has only been given leave to be used to identify demons, not purge them. And yet...she had pledged to rebuke him in the most complete of ways.

The why of it is still unclouding for her, but the sunburnt energy that blasts against her like heat from an opened door is so familiar. They will never extract themselves from this.]

Are you talking about the man who asks if dogs should wear pants? [Her tone is flat. In the mental space they share, Caren's head tilts, the side of her neck exposed to the wretched monster of his mask.] Or is it the ambassadors you somehow think I should involve myself with?

[At least one of these things is his doing, he knows she knows he knows.]

Indulge me. Why am I here?

[redsoil]

[ The ambassadors, definitely, are his doing. Though they speak of peace, they are born of the conceptualization done by a god of war; it is why he handed the mantle to Claude, in the hopes of giving it room to self-actualize and be useful. War only has meaning if some peace is permitted, and he has longevity in mind. ]

You did not pay attention to Meridian's manner? We need a girl wrapped up in virtues and sins among us — to better us. You were stunted in Zenith, there is no suffering there.

[ Slowly, he slips past her body. The press of his arm along her shoulders as he rounds her, to face her. Mindful of where the long maw of his mask is aimed, to force her to either duck below it or lean to one aside to dodge it. Battering ram of a man. ]

At least, no suffering greater than that which lies in Meridian's heart. I was hoping you might use the opportunity for yourself even. To chase what you want.

[consolation]

[Caren barely rises to the challenge, ducking without resistance to accommodate his presence. Though they're only sharing a mental space, her thoughts press beneath his chin, like a hand extended to jerk the dog's head up by its muzzle and create room for her.]

What is it that I want? [She can remember, half-conscious, his promises of martyrdom, of something more - grandiosity that has never been within her purview or her desire.] You don't want to be absolved, but I accept your sin nonetheless. Should I want to punish you? Do you want your fellows to suffer and repent? What?

[So... what is it that she wants? In some other ways, the question is genuine.

She doesn't want anything, after all. What Zenith gave her had never been about what they could give her.]

[redsoil]

Have you never wanted anything for yourself?

[ That strikes him as a little gross, honestly. It reminds him of Amos, all too willing to cast down his humanity into the hands of someone else and allow all his decisions to ride on the will of another. Humanity had been born with freedoms not given to the gods, and to see anyone squander it feels like a waste to him; it is not quite jealousy that he feels, because he will always accept power over freedom, but it is a sort of disdain.

A disappointment. ]

— oh, I am not here to define your life, Caren. I am here to rip you up by the roots and see where you decide to find purchase. If you do not know of those you wish to love, or wish will, your feelings are insincere. Now that you feel, and know, do you still feel the same? Will you still save us?

[consolation]

I suppose being alive is enough. But if anything, there is a dream I'd like to have again.

[I hate when people who work hard get nothing to show for it. No, the words aren't quite right... and she can't even remember where she should have heard them in the first place, or if they were just a feeling, just a judgment that once passed her by.]

From what I've observed, it wouldn't make a difference where I am. Everyone in this world is equally pathetic.

[She lets her mental voice crawl up his chest, his neck - until it pinches his ear.]

You couldn't ask me to stay with words. Just what do you want me to see that your mouth couldn't tell me?

[Does that mean she is agreeing to stay a little longer, to see exactly what it was he appealed to her? Or is she simply going where she was pulled?]

[redsoil]

They are, aren't they!

[ In some moments, Set is about as pathetic as the next. In others, he lords in his superiority over them. Neither moment stands in opposition to the next, and he is not hypocritical at all. There is a distinct confidence that he has in his path is the correct one, and everyone else is just insane; however, in his mind, were he to change his path, it would become the correct one as well — either Faction and their desperate Shardbearers would benefit from having his power aimed for their goal.

He snaps his mental teeth at her, clicking them shut close by her throat as he winds around her slender waist. A bruising embrace that serves to tug her back and into his arms, his curiosity piqued by her. ]

I want you to see how the energies of this world have been bent to twist our minds, the deeper we rely on them. They are strings attaching us to something that aims to puppeteer and mire us in dead end choices. I want your eyes to open. Perhaps, your love will prove greater and more true than that which is already on offer.

[ A brief smile. ]

That, and we have a Church that needs your attention. For better or worse.