I know you are genuine, Alia. We have far too much between us, unspoken but obvious, to be false with one another.
[ Set knows his form was designed to be perfect; an unbreakable, strong body befitting a god of hostile desert climate and endless battle, with a face capturing that elusive line between masculine and feminine. Even diminished from his time living as a mortal, he maintains the aura of something beyond human, in the tip of his jaw and the graceful uncoiling of his limbs to better invite Alia into the spaces of that body itself.
And she's like him, after all. A thing that understands the beauty of a desert, and the treachery of its nature. How to survive it, how to admire it, how to stand amidst the endless rolling dunes and know it to be its own living, breathing entity distinct and lonely and unlovable as the waters and reeds and fertile fields were to all others. ]
I have lain at rest for long enough, [ a week's vacation <3 ] would you bind with the cloth?
[ He hums, bringing the leaves to his nose to sniff them. Animal-like and naturally curious. ]
Honestly, Alia. I have been a round removed — what more do you think I have up my sleeve? [ a joke ] I am leaning on my allies, and making inroads with those who seem to have affection for me. Dying was honestly the best opportunity to solidify my social game. I think I could name anyone I wanted with an effective skillset and have a strong group voting in my interests, at this point!
[alia hums softly, low in her throat, bemused and soft as she stands between set's gracefully inviting thighs, thinks of the delta, the fertile nile, the world she is many, many generations removed from. his homeland and it's planet died millennia before, but alia can feel it still within her veins, as human as those first peoples had been, living and loving and warring and dying along the river's edge.
it is strange to see him diminished, scarred, blinded -- reminds her too closely of paul's own blinding by the stoneburners, the event that precluded his loss, the last she remembers of arrakis. alia's hands are careful, gentle, those of a healer or a nurse, rather than a goddess, as she presses the damp leaves against set's closed eyes, imagining instead that she's painting kohl knife-sharp, regal, resplendent.
as she works, layering the leaves over the bruises that linger from the monstrous disfigurement, alia huffs agreeably at the joke.] If you did not have plans and plots to fill a thousand tomes, I would worry you had returned to us half-formed, or with another's soul attached, perhaps. [the strip of linen cloth is next, wrapped neatly over the leaves, around set's head, mindful to leave every strand of crimson hair sleek and smooth. alia doesn't tie the cloth, remembering --] They said one of you was blindfolded, when you were killed. [softer, tucking the loose ends of the cloth in on themselves, perhaps less sturdy than a knot, but gentler.] Your mind may not remember, but your body will.
"Seem to have". You doubt your warm reception? [gently chiding, pulling out the jar of still-warm tea and pressing it into set's hands.] These games are different, sayidi. You have had a year's time to win hearts and devotion. The deaths are not of near-strangers, but of lovers, partners, family. [unscrewing the lid of the jar, with a sigh:] Such increased emotions muddy even the cleverest of machinations.
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[ Set knows his form was designed to be perfect; an unbreakable, strong body befitting a god of hostile desert climate and endless battle, with a face capturing that elusive line between masculine and feminine. Even diminished from his time living as a mortal, he maintains the aura of something beyond human, in the tip of his jaw and the graceful uncoiling of his limbs to better invite Alia into the spaces of that body itself.
And she's like him, after all. A thing that understands the beauty of a desert, and the treachery of its nature. How to survive it, how to admire it, how to stand amidst the endless rolling dunes and know it to be its own living, breathing entity distinct and lonely and unlovable as the waters and reeds and fertile fields were to all others. ]
I have lain at rest for long enough, [ a week's vacation <3 ] would you bind with the cloth?
[ He hums, bringing the leaves to his nose to sniff them. Animal-like and naturally curious. ]
Honestly, Alia. I have been a round removed — what more do you think I have up my sleeve? [ a joke ] I am leaning on my allies, and making inroads with those who seem to have affection for me. Dying was honestly the best opportunity to solidify my social game. I think I could name anyone I wanted with an effective skillset and have a strong group voting in my interests, at this point!
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it is strange to see him diminished, scarred, blinded -- reminds her too closely of paul's own blinding by the stoneburners, the event that precluded his loss, the last she remembers of arrakis. alia's hands are careful, gentle, those of a healer or a nurse, rather than a goddess, as she presses the damp leaves against set's closed eyes, imagining instead that she's painting kohl knife-sharp, regal, resplendent.
as she works, layering the leaves over the bruises that linger from the monstrous disfigurement, alia huffs agreeably at the joke.] If you did not have plans and plots to fill a thousand tomes, I would worry you had returned to us half-formed, or with another's soul attached, perhaps. [the strip of linen cloth is next, wrapped neatly over the leaves, around set's head, mindful to leave every strand of crimson hair sleek and smooth. alia doesn't tie the cloth, remembering --] They said one of you was blindfolded, when you were killed. [softer, tucking the loose ends of the cloth in on themselves, perhaps less sturdy than a knot, but gentler.] Your mind may not remember, but your body will.
"Seem to have". You doubt your warm reception? [gently chiding, pulling out the jar of still-warm tea and pressing it into set's hands.] These games are different, sayidi. You have had a year's time to win hearts and devotion. The deaths are not of near-strangers, but of lovers, partners, family. [unscrewing the lid of the jar, with a sigh:] Such increased emotions muddy even the cleverest of machinations.