Do not think that because I will speak first, you are off the hook.
[ Neither does he detach, holding Sampo's shoulders and torso firmly to him with one arm; the other is gentle with the pale ends of his hair, mindful not to touch the feather woven into it. Goodness knows he used to have all sorts of trinkets from those he'd sworn he would not miss. ]
Mm, I could take your tongue out for such slander.
[ There's no heat in that threat, though. It is that Set has never enjoyed being directly compared to mortals, or empathized with through a lens of humanity. ] Gods are the foundation of all things that the world has come to know; love, marriage, parenthood... we taught our mortals these things. Of course we are beholden to the same losses as them. We also would show them how to survive the heartbreak.
[ Which is to say, he's an old pro at relationships of various forms. ]
— I lost [ a pause, as he decides who best to speak of; it's for Sampo, in the end, so he goes with: ] a goddess named Quetzalcoatl, in the last realm I inhabited. She was very dear to me. A friend, a confidante, one of the few individuals I could wholly trust with the "me" under all my masks. Is it like that for you?
[He laughs a little - always the jester willing to laugh at the king - though it seems a little bit of a kneejerk reflex, as he quiets just as fast. Set could cut out his tongue. Then he wouldn't say anything, anymore. Would that be its own mercy?]
[He listens quietly. A friend, a confidante, someone who he could trust with the true self, underneath everything.]
...No. He didn't see my core. [He says, as sure as anything.] But man. He got close. I did the same for him, too.
[A little rough noise, his nose rubbing up against the god's neck.]
Two birds of a feather. I was real bad at being a bird.
Sometimes that is worse. Losing what may have been, and living with its ghost.
[ The redhead doesn't enjoy physical contact, as a point of pride.
For someone to lay hand upon his divine body was tantamount to a cardinal sin. Yet, there are subtle exceptions that can readily be found by attentive souls; if Set initiates the contact ( or can be lead to initiate it, by guile or request ), he is far more inclined to warm up to whatever comes of it. The point being, that as Sampo noses along his neck, he doesn't wallop the snake-y businessman for it. Instead, he croons some animal noise — unfathomable to most, save for his immediate kin. ]
You are definitely not a bird, Sampo. You are a wonderful, sly thing that need not twist himself into knots to become anything else in the pursuit of acceptance. Not love, not friendship, not anything that requires you to change to be worth its receipt.
[ Lightly, he tips his cheek against the side of Sampo's head, nudging at it in that same animal-strange way. ]
Is that what pains you most? Did you want to be seen?
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no subject
[ Neither does he detach, holding Sampo's shoulders and torso firmly to him with one arm; the other is gentle with the pale ends of his hair, mindful not to touch the feather woven into it. Goodness knows he used to have all sorts of trinkets from those he'd sworn he would not miss. ]
Mm, I could take your tongue out for such slander.
[ There's no heat in that threat, though. It is that Set has never enjoyed being directly compared to mortals, or empathized with through a lens of humanity. ] Gods are the foundation of all things that the world has come to know; love, marriage, parenthood... we taught our mortals these things. Of course we are beholden to the same losses as them. We also would show them how to survive the heartbreak.
[ Which is to say, he's an old pro at relationships of various forms. ]
— I lost [ a pause, as he decides who best to speak of; it's for Sampo, in the end, so he goes with: ] a goddess named Quetzalcoatl, in the last realm I inhabited. She was very dear to me. A friend, a confidante, one of the few individuals I could wholly trust with the "me" under all my masks. Is it like that for you?
no subject
[He listens quietly. A friend, a confidante, someone who he could trust with the true self, underneath everything.]
...No. He didn't see my core. [He says, as sure as anything.] But man. He got close. I did the same for him, too.
[A little rough noise, his nose rubbing up against the god's neck.]
Two birds of a feather. I was real bad at being a bird.
no subject
[ The redhead doesn't enjoy physical contact, as a point of pride.
For someone to lay hand upon his divine body was tantamount to a cardinal sin. Yet, there are subtle exceptions that can readily be found by attentive souls; if Set initiates the contact ( or can be lead to initiate it, by guile or request ), he is far more inclined to warm up to whatever comes of it. The point being, that as Sampo noses along his neck, he doesn't wallop the snake-y businessman for it. Instead, he croons some animal noise — unfathomable to most, save for his immediate kin. ]
You are definitely not a bird, Sampo. You are a wonderful, sly thing that need not twist himself into knots to become anything else in the pursuit of acceptance. Not love, not friendship, not anything that requires you to change to be worth its receipt.
[ Lightly, he tips his cheek against the side of Sampo's head, nudging at it in that same animal-strange way. ]
Is that what pains you most? Did you want to be seen?