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

♠

Comments

communion ▶ action

[affal]

( set might live to regret that, but we will just have to see.

he is passive and receptive in letting set dictate their meeting place; though he has visited kowloon several times, the place is a winding and labyrinthine maze of subterranean tunnels, and he's not necessarily confident that he would be able to navigate to the place that set describes without error or incident. so after a pensive moment his reflective presence presses closer in Communion, metaphysically reaching out as if extending hands into set's own thoughts, searching for that which he might be able to give without words that would help him find it: a mental map, images of nearby landmarks, the knowledge of the path that he most often takes when finding his way to this place.

if he does offer this information, makoto wordlessly radiates gratitude; his psychic presence retreats with something like a lingering touch. )

Give me three hours, and I will meet you there.

( and he does just that. three hours exactly after parting Communion with set with this message (if not a little earlier), he approaches the booth which had been indicated, dressed in an elaborate way (with his head still attached, mind) that makes him rather conspicuous on these kowloon backstreets, though perhaps not so much so here in the Last Dance as he might have been elsewhere. he carries with him a bag over one arm and a garment box tucked under the other, though this doesn't stop him from marking this moment of their reunion with a smart and well-practiced bow. )

Set, good evening. ( he straightens up to regard his companion with a lidded gaze and a feline smile; the young demon himself typically augments his appearance with precious little make-up or none at all, though tonight he has accented the eeriness of his eyes with sharp liner. his hair is drawn up in an elevated imitation of its usual style, looser and fastened with an extravagant length of ribbon and a piece of jewelry that matches his ensemble. ) I'm almost ashamed to admit that I haven't had the pleasure of exploring this part of Kowloon before now! What a fascinating place. ( his smile widens a notch. ) I believe it becomes you well.

[redsoil]

[ Who knows what kind of things he'll come to regret. For now, all he has to do is outpace them! <3

When the wordless request arrives, he directs Makoto to the most open path that is possible to take — the one with the least amount of turns, corners to disappear behind, and the long alleys which will leave him fully on display as he walks through the Last Dance's sprawling alleyway communities and patrons. Not because he seeks to humiliate the young demon, but because he also maintains the neutrality of a location that ultimately is a neutral setting, rife with citizens from both Springstar and Highstorm, and many a Shardbearer as well.

Handing him all the secret connections and dark corners to slide unseen in? Nobody will ever receive such information from another, they will earn it with their own patronage and presence, if they so desire it. The dark, smoky-laden den that Set prefers to spend his time in is draped in dark veils, starry metals sparkling in the dim firelight cast by bronze lantern — the Seven Black Oaths is a lounge that serves as waypoint for secrets, occultic allure and heady, mind-numbing hookah smoke.

And Set, lounging resplendent and barely-clothed as ever ( except, that by his culture's standards — he is! ), awaits his fellow and the surprises that are in store for him. ]

Oh, you come with more than I expected — ! M, what is all this?

[ He presses his hands together in a resounding clap, eyes brightening as he leans forward out of the comfortable sprawl he'd been in. ]

The whole of the alleys are the Last Dance, artist and erudite alike love to come here and comingle their passions to create all sorts of alluring features and showings. Nothing has much permanence, save for a handful of old haunts — like this one! I believe most individuals with restrained mien and secrets come to love it for what it offers them. A grand place to sit back, observe and become anonymous. I could speak for hours on it! Come sit, tell me all about what you have planned!

[affal]

( the path, however straightforward and pedestrian, is accepted graciously — makoto is certainly not one to expect or demand one reveal well-earned secrets without at the very least offering something in exchange for them, and as he would trust that set would similarly not offend him with such a demand, he doesn't make one in turn. as it is, he enjoyed his stroll through the Last Dance's more common route, colorless eyes glinting in the low light like that of a nighttime animal catching in a beam of light. makoto, having always felt estranged from the concept of home, drifts through as he had felt on the streets of tokyo, in the dirty alleyways of the slums of Hell — he feels, by nature, faintly misplaced and transitory, a near-constant tourist even where he should feel that he belongs. it's not always a bad thing. it can offer the faint sense of wonder and appreciation that one can get when a stranger in a strange land, even if he has never truly put down roots in any one place to feel content. peace. belonging.

perhaps if J hadn't thrown him into datenshou's brothel, that might have been different. but Hell is no easy place to survive, and he had decided it a suitable enough crucible to forge his ward into something that could weather it. now, makoto understands his master's decision, even if he still loathes him for it.

if makoto will spend some of his free time in these shadowed, smokey corridors, better learning the landscape and those that frequent it, then that's all to be considered in future. for now, he joins set, setting what he had brought along with him down nearby. )

You'll see soon enough, ( he replies with a feline grin. )

Later, then. I'd love to hear you recount some of the more interesting curiosities you've seen here. ( as for what he's brought... patience, set, patience. ) Before I show you, I wanted to explain to you more about the Hell I come from. For context, you see, so that you might better understand my perspective. Now, my version of Hell is but one of many, ( he's already discussed similarities and differences with sebastian, and he's certain any other demon might claim theirs unique from the two they hailed from as well, ) but it has laws which I quickly had to learn to live by.

The first, and by far the most important, is that it's not physical strength or prowess that defines a powerful and highly-ranked demon. For one to be immaculate in their appearance and demeanor, to have others fear and respect their name, to be utterly unshakable in the face of those who might try to outwit or faze you... that is what defines the royalty of Hell. The perception of their power is their power.

( an image of J flickers through his mind, but he does what he can to dispel it, wanting to focus. )

Though these are little more than taxidermied laws here in Kenos, I thought tonight to offer you the chance to try your hand at learning and applying a different skill set. And you needn't worry about any mistakes, for I will be there with you, every step of the way.

( though this will be his first time in this position, having always been one on another's arm up until this point... how exciting. )