[ He comes to lean along her flank, half-man and half-element, a spill of red that is more content to lean his cool cheek along her warm side and listen to the thundering sound of one of her hearts. Much of him has cooled, to a dark tranquility that will soon return to a simmer, perhaps a boil, over time; the calming draught of Yima's power is, after all, only temporary. And now with the last of it gone, he can only hope he will not overload again. That he will find a way to remain calm in times of emotional agony, for his feelings run catastrophically intensive and his intelligence is oft subsumed below them — however bright he is, there are deeper wounds and vulnerabilities that were manufactured.
( Akin to telling someone in pain that they were just being hysterical, and watching the resulting collapse of their mental defenses. )
He rubs a hand over the short, soft pelt of her side. They don't talk much about themselves, do they? She knows the most important thing — Anubis — and of Nephthys and the man who haunts him but? Isis, is... ] Yes, her.
[ His family is complicated. ]
I have three older siblings. Osiris, god of life and death, Isis the god of magic and miracles and Nephthys, goddess of harmony and peace. Osiris and Isis were married, as were Nephthys and I. Isis's son is Horus, and my son — is Anubis. We were the direct rulers of humanity. Osiris sat the throne of gods and men alike, before I took it from him.
[ The words are recited thinly, as if he's waiting to be called out for a liar. History has not sided with him, after all. It was written to obscure truths and paint his actions for the violent evil that they were, just... with Osiris cast in a more heroic light. ]
Isis and I were best friends, for so long. Now, we hate one another. I do not know if the Isis who that temple was for is "mine" [ he doesn't think so, and that alarms him; he has a sense of himself as the only one, omnipresent across all realities and realms ] but I knew it was her. Her icons, her symbols... her scent.
[Sand beneath the sun was warm, sometimes scorching... but Set is cool like the desert at night where he comes to rest against her powerful flank, his weight in flux between flesh and shifting grains. She prefers him warm, there is something about this chill that she dislikes (something like Yima, though she cannot name it so, something lingering that smells like sickly sweet petals on the verge of rot)... But she has him as he is now.
As his hand rubs over her short, well-maintained dun coat, Hayame leans some of her weight on her left hand, just enough to shift her heavy body and turn from the "waist" until she is able to reach him. The motion is not the surest, because his outburst of overflowing divine presence mixed with all of those emotions and impressions had left her a bit pale in comparison, unsure if something like the touch of a single mortal would even register after he has been everywhere and nowhere... but as her equine chest rises and falls with her breathing, softly moving him along with her in a slow rhythm, her fingers card gently through long crimson strands (and one inky black one), silent and attentive as she listens to his explanation.
... It's complicated. Of course it is, he is a god. Hayame is prepared for that, if anything, coming from a world herself where all the deities were related and wed and involved somehow in their respective domains. Had Izanagi not birthed the sun goddess, the moon god, and the storm god from his body alone without a woman while performing his ablutions? Had Toyotamahime not abandoned her babe with a mortal man and returned to the Dragon King's palace under the sea before sending her sister to tend and later bed him? What of Susano'o, whose wife bore him eight gods and goddesses that wed amongst themselves to combine their powers? At least... That is what the priests' tales said.
It is strange, though, to hear such things directly from him in words and not just visions or impressions through Communion. It almost makes her feel like she's spying on something, even though it's being given to her, like she's just taking and refusing him the same. Should she... ? There is much to process. So the god who she had grown to despise, that cloying, possessive, disgusting green man whose shadow sometimes haunted Set even in this faraway place... so his name was "Osiris". A brother--]
... I have over ten half-siblings.
[She doesn't know what to say yet, and for some reason what comes out... isn't an accusation of him being a liar, like he might fear. Why would she, when surely he has little cause to do that now, and they are in Communion where truth and falsehood become both obvious and strange? It's... payment. Fairness. Vulnerability and openness offered to him in exchange for what he offered her.]
I do not know exactly how many. My sire was prolific at stud.
[She knew of the ones that were still at the breeding stable, but her sire was an Armless her master had owned for years, and his older progeny had been sent to sale since before her birth. Who knew what the number was. Unlike Set, she was not...]
But we were tied by nothing but blood. There was just one I considered my brother. ... Yubari.
[And even saying that... No, she should not go too far down that path. Not yet. Not unless asked, or earned, or needed. He gave her facts, she gave him facts... and now that they were even, she could take the next step again, her voice quiet and yet so loud on the border between desert and snowy mount.]
... Why does she hate you now?
[Because he took her husband's throne? She hopes that is it. Because if it is not...]
Ten. You could have asked Zenith's matron for Yubari, you know and... ditched her afterwards.
[ Knowing what he does of her life, of the subjugation of her people — it doesn't surprise him, to know that the woman who had begat her had been used for more than just Hayame's creation. The jinba were property, as she had shown him, and while Set ( unfortunately ) hails from a period of time and a place where such beliefs were common and not oft-disputed, he does not look upon Hayame and see someone who ought to be in shackles.
Ten half-siblings. Sharing nothing but blood, save for one. His name is 'Yubari', and Set wonders if he is anything like Hayame. It's a fair trade, the discussion of siblings between them. Unlike her, he had been infinitely closer with his own. They had been one another's best friends, partners and companions and trusted advisors. Loyal confidants. His jaw tenses when Hayame asks him why he and Isis fell from one another's grace, why she hates him ( and he, her ). ]
After I did away with Osiris, I tried to marry her. She holds the divine right to rule, and I wanted to legitimize my claim to the throne. She up and ran, hid herself within Egypt for centuries. [ He tries for a flippant tone, even if bitterness crawls in his throat. She knew, she saw. She chose Osiris. ] Some best friend she was, running out on me like that. We were both slighted by the same guy, too.
[ He hates her so much. He loves her, to the point of grief. ]
While I was looking for her, I let Egypt fall into depravity. I told you, I am an evil god. I received that title for a reason.
[That before she had chosen Meridian she had fantasized a thousand times about finally being able to save someone? ... Yubari was her twin in looks, the both of them sharing the same dun coat and dark manes of their dam. They had the same curve to their withers, the same elegant cut of cheekbone, the same stormy gray eyes. But Yubari... Yubari was softer than her. Kinder than her. She'd had to harden him from the moment he left the foaling stables and joined her in the yearlings' quarters. He was a fine archer, but his hands were far more cleverly put to use in the crafting of things than the killing of them.]
Yubari was the only one who ever believed in me. That I was just as good as any stallion. That I would become a warlord's horse.
[And for that... he had nearly died. He now risked being known as the brother of a traitor. Hayame's hand in Set's hair stays gentle, (because she... it made her so sick when she felt hands fist too tightly or pull at her mane), but her other fingers curl tightly on her foreknee. Even if she'd tried to pretend to be a Zenith just long enough to get his shard... Then he would be the brother of a traitor, and more than that... More than that-]
Were you not the one who told me I must return to my world and live, rather than die? I will have the real Yubari, not some rock from a witch.
[So she won't... She won't ask for his shard. (She won't admit that she'd always agonized over who to chose between Yubari and Matsukaze.) She mulls over Set's words instead, and the story he tells of chasing his sister throughout the lands of Egypt to solidify his claim on Osiris' throne. She mulls over... the hints of bitterness she can hear in his tone, and what they might mean. (What she fears they might mean.)]
... Women are expected to be loyal to their husbands, even over ties to brothers or fathers.
[Not that it would ease the betrayal. She knew about betrayal, without being a goddess. Her fingers slow in Set's mane, her thumb rubbing along the hairline of his forehead. ... So red. She never stops being amazed at how red it was.]
Even after death. Even if it is to their detriment.
[That is what it is to be a good and loyal wife. ... Or so she understands. She had never thought to be be one. She will never be one. She is... a warrior. One who wonders now...]
... Would you have ruled Egypt properly, if she had wed you?
[If he had not become obsessed with finding her, and instead took to the throne without difficulty... would he have been called an "evil god"? She cannot truly imagine him ever being lauded as a god of peace (apparently that was his other sister's role), but. She could envision him ruling firmly but justly.
Or perhaps she just wished it were so, and deluded herself now simply because she had always hoped that when she became a warlord's horse that the man she would serve would be... not consummately evil.]
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no subject
( Akin to telling someone in pain that they were just being hysterical, and watching the resulting collapse of their mental defenses. )
He rubs a hand over the short, soft pelt of her side. They don't talk much about themselves, do they? She knows the most important thing — Anubis — and of Nephthys and the man who haunts him but? Isis, is... ] Yes, her.
[ His family is complicated. ]
I have three older siblings. Osiris, god of life and death, Isis the god of magic and miracles and Nephthys, goddess of harmony and peace. Osiris and Isis were married, as were Nephthys and I. Isis's son is Horus, and my son — is Anubis. We were the direct rulers of humanity. Osiris sat the throne of gods and men alike, before I took it from him.
[ The words are recited thinly, as if he's waiting to be called out for a liar. History has not sided with him, after all. It was written to obscure truths and paint his actions for the violent evil that they were, just... with Osiris cast in a more heroic light. ]
Isis and I were best friends, for so long. Now, we hate one another. I do not know if the Isis who that temple was for is "mine" [ he doesn't think so, and that alarms him; he has a sense of himself as the only one, omnipresent across all realities and realms ] but I knew it was her. Her icons, her symbols... her scent.
no subject
As his hand rubs over her short, well-maintained dun coat, Hayame leans some of her weight on her left hand, just enough to shift her heavy body and turn from the "waist" until she is able to reach him. The motion is not the surest, because his outburst of overflowing divine presence mixed with all of those emotions and impressions had left her a bit pale in comparison, unsure if something like the touch of a single mortal would even register after he has been everywhere and nowhere... but as her equine chest rises and falls with her breathing, softly moving him along with her in a slow rhythm, her fingers card gently through long crimson strands (and one inky black one), silent and attentive as she listens to his explanation.
... It's complicated. Of course it is, he is a god. Hayame is prepared for that, if anything, coming from a world herself where all the deities were related and wed and involved somehow in their respective domains. Had Izanagi not birthed the sun goddess, the moon god, and the storm god from his body alone without a woman while performing his ablutions? Had Toyotamahime not abandoned her babe with a mortal man and returned to the Dragon King's palace under the sea before sending her sister to tend and later bed him? What of Susano'o, whose wife bore him eight gods and goddesses that wed amongst themselves to combine their powers? At least... That is what the priests' tales said.
It is strange, though, to hear such things directly from him in words and not just visions or impressions through Communion. It almost makes her feel like she's spying on something, even though it's being given to her, like she's just taking and refusing him the same. Should she... ? There is much to process. So the god who she had grown to despise, that cloying, possessive, disgusting green man whose shadow sometimes haunted Set even in this faraway place... so his name was "Osiris". A brother--]
... I have over ten half-siblings.
[She doesn't know what to say yet, and for some reason what comes out... isn't an accusation of him being a liar, like he might fear. Why would she, when surely he has little cause to do that now, and they are in Communion where truth and falsehood become both obvious and strange? It's... payment. Fairness. Vulnerability and openness offered to him in exchange for what he offered her.]
I do not know exactly how many. My sire was prolific at stud.
[She knew of the ones that were still at the breeding stable, but her sire was an Armless her master had owned for years, and his older progeny had been sent to sale since before her birth. Who knew what the number was. Unlike Set, she was not...]
But we were tied by nothing but blood. There was just one I considered my brother. ... Yubari.
[And even saying that... No, she should not go too far down that path. Not yet. Not unless asked, or earned, or needed. He gave her facts, she gave him facts... and now that they were even, she could take the next step again, her voice quiet and yet so loud on the border between desert and snowy mount.]
... Why does she hate you now?
[Because he took her husband's throne? She hopes that is it. Because if it is not...]
no subject
[ Knowing what he does of her life, of the subjugation of her people — it doesn't surprise him, to know that the woman who had begat her had been used for more than just Hayame's creation. The jinba were property, as she had shown him, and while Set ( unfortunately ) hails from a period of time and a place where such beliefs were common and not oft-disputed, he does not look upon Hayame and see someone who ought to be in shackles.
Ten half-siblings. Sharing nothing but blood, save for one. His name is 'Yubari', and Set wonders if he is anything like Hayame. It's a fair trade, the discussion of siblings between them. Unlike her, he had been infinitely closer with his own. They had been one another's best friends, partners and companions and trusted advisors. Loyal confidants. His jaw tenses when Hayame asks him why he and Isis fell from one another's grace, why she hates him ( and he, her ). ]
After I did away with Osiris, I tried to marry her. She holds the divine right to rule, and I wanted to legitimize my claim to the throne. She up and ran, hid herself within Egypt for centuries. [ He tries for a flippant tone, even if bitterness crawls in his throat. She knew, she saw. She chose Osiris. ] Some best friend she was, running out on me like that. We were both slighted by the same guy, too.
[ He hates her so much. He loves her, to the point of grief. ]
While I was looking for her, I let Egypt fall into depravity. I told you, I am an evil god. I received that title for a reason.
no subject
[That before she had chosen Meridian she had fantasized a thousand times about finally being able to save someone? ... Yubari was her twin in looks, the both of them sharing the same dun coat and dark manes of their dam. They had the same curve to their withers, the same elegant cut of cheekbone, the same stormy gray eyes. But Yubari... Yubari was softer than her. Kinder than her. She'd had to harden him from the moment he left the foaling stables and joined her in the yearlings' quarters. He was a fine archer, but his hands were far more cleverly put to use in the crafting of things than the killing of them.]
Yubari was the only one who ever believed in me. That I was just as good as any stallion. That I would become a warlord's horse.
[And for that... he had nearly died. He now risked being known as the brother of a traitor. Hayame's hand in Set's hair stays gentle, (because she... it made her so sick when she felt hands fist too tightly or pull at her mane), but her other fingers curl tightly on her foreknee. Even if she'd tried to pretend to be a Zenith just long enough to get his shard... Then he would be the brother of a traitor, and more than that... More than that-]
Were you not the one who told me I must return to my world and live, rather than die? I will have the real Yubari, not some rock from a witch.
[So she won't... She won't ask for his shard. (She won't admit that she'd always agonized over who to chose between Yubari and Matsukaze.) She mulls over Set's words instead, and the story he tells of chasing his sister throughout the lands of Egypt to solidify his claim on Osiris' throne. She mulls over... the hints of bitterness she can hear in his tone, and what they might mean. (What she fears they might mean.)]
... Women are expected to be loyal to their husbands, even over ties to brothers or fathers.
[Not that it would ease the betrayal. She knew about betrayal, without being a goddess. Her fingers slow in Set's mane, her thumb rubbing along the hairline of his forehead. ... So red. She never stops being amazed at how red it was.]
Even after death. Even if it is to their detriment.
[That is what it is to be a good and loyal wife. ... Or so she understands. She had never thought to be be one. She will never be one. She is... a warrior. One who wonders now...]
... Would you have ruled Egypt properly, if she had wed you?
[If he had not become obsessed with finding her, and instead took to the throne without difficulty... would he have been called an "evil god"? She cannot truly imagine him ever being lauded as a god of peace (apparently that was his other sister's role), but. She could envision him ruling firmly but justly.
Or perhaps she just wished it were so, and deluded herself now simply because she had always hoped that when she became a warlord's horse that the man she would serve would be... not consummately evil.]