[ The god of war is red of hair and red of eye, with little to his person aside from the dark drape of his shendyt and the flex of his fingers into fists. He awaits this fellow who's called him out, by virtue of his being a god of war, who wants to fight with him for the same reason. Honestly, it's a relief, to know that his divinity - while imprisoned far from him - is enough in name alone to entice the violent to him. It'll be satisfying, to really cut loose on some whelp eager to pit himself against Egypt's greatest god ( former ) and be met by a kindred soul.

At least, he hopes this 'Grimmjow' proves to be a kindred soul. The kind who finds delight and freedom in combat. He doesn't know who to look for, and that alone keeps him on edge, rolling up to his toes with a fresh eagerness that has him breathing the environment in, animal-like and watchful. Will this soul approach him head-on? Will he announce his presence before they begin, or will he attempt to ambush Set? Does he bring a weapon, or his own bare hands? He doesn't care, he's fought in all manners and ways, and all he'd like to do is prove he can still destroy others.

( His shadow's presence is unwanted, but there, lingering and lounging like an indolent king. He can feel it curling in the corner of his mouth, savage and bright. ) ]