[ Petulant, Set lifts his chin and turns his face away; red hair flows across his shoulders as he 'hmphs', though his arms remain locked where they are. His hands soft on Liem's body, his own posture leaning towards him the way a flower might seek a sun. A bird seeking a roost, or, best yet: a cat, finding the most reluctant lap to make a home in. He knew Liem could love.
It was a question less of that, and more of whether or not he felt he should love and be loved. Things like that were silly to think of, Set had come to believe. Horus had shown him that, in part; his sister's love for her people had helped him recognize it. His own love for people who had once adored him, and been driven to their worst selves by that love for him, and the need for him to punish them for their sins with his own hands — had painfully confirmed it. ]
It is not up to you to decide if you should or should not be loved. That is the purview of others, always.
[ That is the lesson he knows. Why he knows he is difficult to love: it's not his own opinion, but a learned thing. External fact made internalized belief. Softly, despite the way he curls his words like a child that's been told "you're right" ( even if Liem did not exactly say that! ), he sulks through the rest of the conversation. His hands upon Liem, his mouth tugging into a full pout, lower lip jutting out and to the side while his eyes narrow and nose wrinkles. ]
How do I show you that you belong to me? That I am glad for all of it, and value what you are. Right like this, without asking you to change or be more or less? Selfishly, I love you and want to be loved back by you. I married my first love. Rudbeckia asked me to wed her, for her safety and comfort and because that means something to her. You... do not wish that, yet there is something that will bring you confidence in "us". There has to be.
[ He tugs Liem's hands closer, guides them to the brilliant, marbled red of his Shard just under the heavy line of his golden collar. Might that help? ]
no subject
[ Petulant, Set lifts his chin and turns his face away; red hair flows across his shoulders as he 'hmphs', though his arms remain locked where they are. His hands soft on Liem's body, his own posture leaning towards him the way a flower might seek a sun. A bird seeking a roost, or, best yet: a cat, finding the most reluctant lap to make a home in. He knew Liem could love.
It was a question less of that, and more of whether or not he felt he should love and be loved. Things like that were silly to think of, Set had come to believe. Horus had shown him that, in part; his sister's love for her people had helped him recognize it. His own love for people who had once adored him, and been driven to their worst selves by that love for him, and the need for him to punish them for their sins with his own hands — had painfully confirmed it. ]
It is not up to you to decide if you should or should not be loved. That is the purview of others, always.
[ That is the lesson he knows. Why he knows he is difficult to love: it's not his own opinion, but a learned thing. External fact made internalized belief. Softly, despite the way he curls his words like a child that's been told "you're right" ( even if Liem did not exactly say that! ), he sulks through the rest of the conversation. His hands upon Liem, his mouth tugging into a full pout, lower lip jutting out and to the side while his eyes narrow and nose wrinkles. ]
How do I show you that you belong to me? That I am glad for all of it, and value what you are. Right like this, without asking you to change or be more or less? Selfishly, I love you and want to be loved back by you. I married my first love. Rudbeckia asked me to wed her, for her safety and comfort and because that means something to her. You... do not wish that, yet there is something that will bring you confidence in "us". There has to be.
[ He tugs Liem's hands closer, guides them to the brilliant, marbled red of his Shard just under the heavy line of his golden collar. Might that help? ]