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[sterngaze]

Liem Talbott

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Liem's mindscape is dark; quiet; contemplative. Any feelings or sensations that Liem doesn't intentionally project himself seem distant, as though echoing from a far-off room. Following any given sense to its source is bafflingly difficult.

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[redsoil]

Yes, I would.

[ Set's hands trace the cool, pale skin of Liem's chest; his fingers trace around the shape of his Shard, the end of a well-kept nail flirting with the edges of it. His own Shard is bare upon his chest when the tumble of his hair and the heavy weight of gold jewelry shifts aside — an unpolished gash of red jasper like a laceration over his heart.

He bends his head, and presses a soft, brief kiss to the lovely compass points embedded in Liem's chest. Hands in his hair can be alarming, but Liem has never pulled at him with harsh intentions. Even if he had, it would be a matter of correcting the injury — to be able to keep him. ]

I am here, real and yours. I will listen attentively for your voice.

[ Pain still lances within him, but slowly, Set pours himself into bed alongside Liem; he rests on his side, hand stroking across bare skin and up into Liem's hair, thumbing against the corner of his eye and the arch of his cheek. ]

In this — I get to choose you, as you get to choose me.

[sterngaze]

[There is a strange and unfamiliar vulnerability inherent to letting another person touch the crystallized shard embedded in his chest. Liem’s breath stills in his lungs as warm lips caress the many-pointed edges; his fingers slide through the crimson fall of Set’s hair to trace the shell of his ear.

He has still not figured out what he is meant to be to Set, nor what exactly the god wishes from him when he calls him friend and seeks to keep him close. But he knows that he wants what he is offered in return.]

I will call to you, then.

[Sometimes. When the struggle he contends with is one that he can bear for another to witness. That is all he can really guarantee for now; he hopes it will suffice.

Shifting, Liem turns to fit himself against the other man, arm about him and body pressed close, legs twining with Set’s bare ones. Seeking his warmth.]

And I hope that you will call me sometimes, also.

[Even if he is just a man, and he cannot offer any more than a mortal is capable of giving. Like he is doing now. But mortal hands and mortal wishes have always been the only thing he had for his own god, so he knows that gods desire such things.]