The water is predictable even at the worst of times.
[ in a way he can commiserate with the lack of abilities. his, not entirely as strong as others here, keep him anchored, keep him rooted in the world around him. there are never questions about being able to find anyone, knowing their location, feeling the rush of power against the torrential indigo of his own. so set loops his arm and quentin, though he doesn't startle, laughs softly.
he squeezes his arm down against set's, but pauses when he speaks. a frown pinches his brow. ]
You are never second-best or unnecessary. I think it is simply an impossibility.
[ the loop of his arm moves, turns instead so quentin can angle them into a hug, strong arms around set, tugging him in against his chest. there's no time for being polite here, no time for the distance that they've had since speaking so long ago. werewolf is a game of all or nothing. quentin is warm, besides - koby tells him so - and like the turn of a tide, he can tell when someone needs the sun. ]
Shanks needs you now. Koby does. I do. Everyone needs safe harbor in a storm.
[ Rapidly swept up in the whirlpool of Quentin's arms, Set huffs and puffs against his collarbone — shoulders and spine stiffening, as if he expects something other than a warm embrace ( it had taken him time, even with Shanks, to not tighten his core against a kind touch ), before he grumbles like a sour animal and softens there, where he's held. ]
It is not impossible for a god. We come from the root of reality — the cosmic sea, where we are assigned parameters within which to function. Our roles and functions are defined for us, and cannot change. We can gain them, but we cannot divorce ourselves from that origin.
[ And his, he'd come to know long ago, was to be the red-headed stepchild to all others. Still, he has his pride! ]
Really, Quentin. Keeping everyone safe is not my duty. I enjoy watching them struggle and strive to survive and win — this would be a game in my honor, back home. I still think of it, as such.
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[ in a way he can commiserate with the lack of abilities. his, not entirely as strong as others here, keep him anchored, keep him rooted in the world around him. there are never questions about being able to find anyone, knowing their location, feeling the rush of power against the torrential indigo of his own. so set loops his arm and quentin, though he doesn't startle, laughs softly.
he squeezes his arm down against set's, but pauses when he speaks. a frown pinches his brow. ]
You are never second-best or unnecessary. I think it is simply an impossibility.
[ the loop of his arm moves, turns instead so quentin can angle them into a hug, strong arms around set, tugging him in against his chest. there's no time for being polite here, no time for the distance that they've had since speaking so long ago. werewolf is a game of all or nothing. quentin is warm, besides - koby tells him so - and like the turn of a tide, he can tell when someone needs the sun. ]
Shanks needs you now. Koby does. I do. Everyone needs safe harbor in a storm.
no subject
It is not impossible for a god. We come from the root of reality — the cosmic sea, where we are assigned parameters within which to function. Our roles and functions are defined for us, and cannot change. We can gain them, but we cannot divorce ourselves from that origin.
[ And his, he'd come to know long ago, was to be the red-headed stepchild to all others. Still, he has his pride! ]
Really, Quentin. Keeping everyone safe is not my duty. I enjoy watching them struggle and strive to survive and win — this would be a game in my honor, back home. I still think of it, as such.