[ Raking the edges of his nails along the back of Liem's neck, he breathes into his cool skin and curls against him — at his front, and behind him. The clone, though silent and only part of his sands, is as warm and expressive as he is. It slips arms around Liem's waist and holds him like that, while the god himself strokes his fingers along the other man's throat. ]

For our continued victories, [ because he is the god of war. ]

And for you, whom I can call on and will call on me. For this.

[ And his hand slips to rest over Liem's heart, his smile twitching briefly — because, there is practicality in blessing Liem. It is an empowerment, a way to hold onto him against the tide of Zenith. And Set... Set must tell him, quiet and without shame. Only thought, only consideration as he carves away further sentiment in favor of updating one of his dearest companions. Someone he truly... frighteningly, can trust in. ]

— I did something, to win the Oracle. I offered something I did not think I needed, because... because I had given it up long ago to save myself from pain, and the future does not call for such a thing from me. I fed it my altruism. And I worry I made a mistake in doing so. I still love, and I still care... but, I do not know what this will mean.