— i'll say a prayer, as i cast it to the flame

[redsoil]

WHO: set & others
WHERE: around the netherworld
WHEN: check headers for specific dates/times
WHAT: a catch-all for everything during his time in-game
WARNINGS: physical violence, mentions of sexual abuse, hanahaki syndrome, etc.

Comments

「OCTOBER」

[redsoil]

— @ CAIN

[ The location tag that Set sends to Cain will lead him to one of neon-hot night parlors of Mirth, a three-story structure wedged tightly between other businesses upon a strip of gayly lit awnings and windows gone ashy from the low-hanging miasma of exhaust and airy drugs. The first two floors belong to a massage parlor and private gambling space, the third floor and rooftop accessed via a rickety metal stairwell. The third floor is inhabited by the owners of the building, who will shoo at Cain if he attempts to enter there, urging him on towards the roof.

Most of the rooftop is taken by a set of greenhouses, their windows occluded by hanging drapery within or dingy spraypaint. A heavy chain and padlock marks it as a no-fly zone. The rest of the rooftop features scattered patio equipment, pockmarked by burns and leftover you-know-what paraphernalia. There is what appears to be a long pergola, draped in broken neon-lighting as thick as a canopy of trees, blinking in oddly-timed patches. Below it, is a little divided-off area -- a chaise lounge, a low table and a scattered collection of other odd items -- where Set leans along one of the broad legs of the pergola, toying with the blinking lights that drape across his shoulder.

He's still wearing next to nothing.... aside from his shendyt and a couple of rings on his fingers. It truly makes him appear vulnerable. Still, his voice carries boldly as he spots Cain cresting over the edge of the rooftop, a pair of plastic party cups clutched between the fingers of his hand: ] Well, well. You really aren't that bad looking. I can see why you'd want to throw yourself into beds.

[ l l L LEWD?????? ]

[blyat]

[It's not a difficult place to find. Cain arrives at the building in short time, as promised, stowing his phone into the back pocket of dark pants before confronting the dim and narrow entryway. He finds the owners on the third floor before being redirected, thinking off-handedly that "Set" should have been more specific about the roof if that's what he meant by upstairs. The metal steps creak beneath his boots; he takes them two at a time, leaping deftly to the top before slowing in awe through the tangle of greenery, patio equipment, and lights. To him, it may as well be another world — not the clean, perfect gleam of Earth he's seen in pictures and videos, not the grunge desolation of Mars, not the air-tight prison of an Alliance ship. Mirth is something else.

Yet even all of that doesn't compare to finally seeing Set, in the flesh, starting at the sound of the voice before his head whips around. Whoa. A long, sleek curtain of red hair is the first feature he sees, then bare white contrast of skin, lights a flickering adornment over a slender shoulder. Then those dark, kohl-lined eyes pinning him in place. Maybe he should feel guilt for the rush of attraction he feels — as if, even now, he is in some way betraying Abel — but the reaction is impulsive and he couldn't control it if he tried. He's never seen anyone like this. Not back home, not off-world.]

You're... uh. [Gorgeous. Cain closes his mouth over the word, feeling strangely skittish in a way he hasn't experienced since he was probably sixteen.] Better. Than the profile.

[Smooth. Such a brusque assessment of his own appearance would have agitated him coming from anyone else, but in this instance it slips in and out of his head, quickly forgotten. He snorts, coming forward to drop a pack of cigarettes onto the table in an effort not to stare.]

You really called yourself a god, though? That was kind of weird. [Gods don't exist. Ha ha ha.] Where's the wine?

[redsoil]

[ The day that Set makes anything easy for anyone is the day he ceases to be himself; a tempestuous creature, vibrant in attitude and lofty in intellect. Albeit diminished and battered around the edges, old bruises from weeks ago still linger on his skin -- for there is no balm from Isis to be found in this land, no priestesses graced by his sister or Nephthys who will lay hand upon the injured and attend them. There is a young woman somewhere, Sakura, whom Set had been told to visit - however, he'd found it unecessary. Let her attend to those with imperfect bodies.

Mirth is a wild place, full of shrieking laughter and neon madness. It is hot and bright all of the time, with no sense of quiet, no peace, no dark of night and somehow, he thrives in it - even though he lives under a pergola, he is as embraced by the unique disorder of Mirth as it cradles him. It's not Serene, with its lush landscape. It's not the Barrens, though he thinks of that empty place as an extension of himself - made of cold stone, rather than hot sands.

He awaits Cain, until the creak of the metal stairwell heralds the man's arrival, and rises to greet him with all the brashness of an expectant god. Tucking a lock of red hair behind one ear, he beckons invitingly to Cain -- he has, after all, called on him with a purpose in mind. It's not sex, but it is inebriation and hedonism of equal heights. By the time Cain has joined him under the heap of hot, neon lights that form boughs over the pergola, Set has procured the wine in the plastic cups. They're not polished stone, or crystal, or glass, but they serve! ]

You lot truly do find it difficult to grasp divinity.

[ A muttered scoff, as he presses the cup into Cain's hands. Here's the wine. If Set was flattered by the assessment of "looking better in person", he gives nothing away -- of course he does!! ]

I am a god. Egypt's god of the desert, and of war.

[ As red a desert as Mars itself. ]

[blyat]

[He hasn't shaken the residual shock at the sight of Set even after he's beckoned closer and handed a cup of wine. Instinctively, Cain brings it to his lips and drains several swallows — as though in an effort to burn off his own lingering nerves, to imbibe the alcohol as quickly as possible because intoxication would make dealing with this whole place infinitely easier. Being dead. Being trapped. Meeting gods.]

Never heard of Egypt, but that's not weird, there's a lot of stuff I've told people they've got no idea about too. [Eyeing Set — unable to stop if he tried, really, for all that red hair and pale skin on display it feels like he's entranced — Cain finds a seat on a rickety lounge chair, cup perched on a bent knee, boots splayed. He fishes a cigarette out from the carton on the table and offers it over, slender stick pinched in gloved fingers.] Look, I've never believed in a god either. Gods. You've gotta be from a whole different place than me, but... after the shit I've seen, maybe I could buy it.

[War is something he knows well. And deserts. His own home is cold and barren, void of life for miles, and he misses it more than he'll say to a stranger, god or not, and he doesn't know if he'll ever see it again.]

Can you prove it?

[redsoil]

[ Like Cain, Set is the manner of creature that slugs his drinks. Once he finds his own seat again, stretching out along the (faux) chaise lounge like an indolent deity, he tips his head back and skillfully pours the wine down his open throat. Nearby, a barrel embellished with the marks and signatures of a local wine-maker (and blacksmith!) sits - lightly corked to ensure excess air does not sour the wine. He's not pleased that it's made of wood, a good clay would have been more secure - but, something about the woody hints it's left in the wine's chemical makeup is tasty.

He reaches for the cigarette, when it's offered. ]

What would you need to witness, to be made certain of my divinity?

[ With the hand holding the cigarette, he gestures sweepingly down the length of his body; the structure of it, the blemish-less skin and lack of any discerning scar or mark. He is oddly symmetrical in features, akin to something made perfect by hands and eyes without flaw. ]

Do I not look the part?