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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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But in the heart of him, he knows he is not happy.]
I understand the nature of your conviction, [is what he says. He does not disagree that shedding one’s altruistic desires might help them pursue victory with more focus.
At what cost, though? He is loath to contemplate it, given the die has been cast regardless. Perhaps Set can still atone, even if he can learn nothing from his penance. Perhaps it will even be enough, in the eyes of his son.
When Set first sought him out months ago, Liem had agreed to give him his counsel. That had been the beginning of their arrangement, before the god had demanded more. Offered more. Only, now, Liem finds himself balking at the necessity of answering Set’s question. As the lines between priestly consultant and close companion blur, he realizes too late that they also seem to be closing around him like strands of a net.
He does not quite know what else to say.]
I would like to believe this is of no concern to me.
[But he is not sure that he does. And at least, if he does believe it makes no difference, it is only because he didn’t really expect to be loved, truly loved, in the first place. But of what comfort is that?]
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[ Against his will ( what will? he has none, no ability to resist the worst, no capability to rally against the tide — ), he concludes his efforts to be — to be, what? What does he want from Liem, beyond to be at his side? Perhaps the way he has been thinking of the small, growing thing between is but a delusion. After all, he is a madman.
If a friend cannot bear to give him honest counsel, he knows he is not worth what it would take for Liem to love him. Such pain he would cause such a dear person. And yet, he still covets it all. Hands slipping from where they had rested, warm around Liem's body, to caress up the length of his arms, to his hands. Set squeezes them, quiet and visibly rueful. Not quite apologetic, but ridden with regret. With unease that grows catastrophically fast. ]
Of course. We need not — you need not burden yourself with concerns further than your heart can bear. I will carry the rest for you.
[ Because a love like Set's is lesser, he doesn't know why he asked the question. Liem gave him a ring, and people have been asking him to whom he is "engaged to" and such a thing does not exist in his era, but he read about it and recognized it and wondered — ]
But. Did you know what people would think, to see me wearing your token?
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The hands that Set grips curl, clutching savagely at warm fingers. Liem dips away from the terrible emotion lurking behind Set’s expression, his forehead dropping heavily against the god’s shoulder. He does not want to speak. Some painful, iron-hot shape has lodged itself in his throat, and he does not know what will happen if he tries.
Stupid, stupid. Stupid of him to mourn something he never had to begin with. Get over it, Liem. Don’t be hysterical over nothing, for god’s sake, not while he’s still here—]
That is no one’s business… [he whispers, miserably, not trusting himself to speak any louder. His face feels hot against the smooth gold of Set’s collar.] … but yours, and mine.
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he didn't think anyone wanted. Not with the way they spoke of his dalliances with the Zenites, of his fluidity as he straddled the line between Meridian and Zenith, of his aching need to spread himself thinner and thinner among the world until he was mad with it. And all it has done, in the end, this act he thought was for the best, is drive some pain into Liem. He can smell it, feel it in the tremble of his voice. ]
I do love you.
[ It's hard to say, so directly. He's alluded to it before, hinted at it while he spoke of his feelings for the most painful people he wanted to understand and accept and have for his own. Never so concretely to Liem, but — saying the words had always felt cheap and fragile, compared to showing him. Proving it to him, even if he had to drag him around. ]
Nothing about the way I feel for you has changed, except — I do not love you at my own expense. I will love you and be more for you. I do not want to sacrifice parts of myself that are unlovable just to be able to give myself to you. And I do not want you to do that either. That — that is what my decision means, to me.
[ It means he doesn't want to be less than what he is, nor does he want that for Liem. ]
I may have given up my altruism, but I would never be able to love you any way but shallowly if I had it still. I would not be able to be greedy for you. Or even say these words.
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So you sacrificed something else, instead.
[Something lovable, he doesn’t say. But this is what he has done, is it not? Decided to become harder, sharper, more focused in pursuit of his goals. An eminently reasonable decision to make, in many ways, given their circumstances. Resenting it is worse than foolish.
It is just so painful a thing to feel robbed of, when Set had so relentlessly persuaded him to covet not just his desire and his companionship, but also his protection—something he struggled to even accept, much less rely on. He has spent so much of his life striving to earn the care of people around him; he cannot bear the thought of being trapped by such desperate compulsions with Set, too.]
You are a liar, Set. “I need not burden myself”? [He mumbles it against the hot column of Set’s neck, knowing he is being cruel and still, heedlessly, speaking on regardless.] You cannot even be fully greedy for me. You don’t want me; you just want me to belong to you.
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Liem thinks him a liar, and it hurts. Deeply and sharply, to be thought of as someone who is false; except, that he has always worked to be seen in certain ways. Not a vulnerable creature, not a weak one. Strength was always part of him, that redheaded god of war — Egypt's unconquered soldier; then, strength had been taken from him by someone he'd loved, forcing him into submission and,
he's always fought to be seen as strong, since then. Someone to believe in, or yield to. And Liem calls him a liar, which hurts so much. ]
You said it first.
[ His voice curls a little, sharpening like brittle glass. Liem is crying, and over what? Altruism? It doesn't serve them, it doesn't protect them, it doesn't mean anything for them or Meridian or the future they're working toward! Does altruism even exist? If so, how is it healthy? HOw is it fair to offer all of oneself and want nothing in return? ]
"I would like to believe this is of no concern to me." [ Like an animal that knows only violence, he pushes back a little. His body tensing, as if ready to tear away from Liem and leave him exposed and upset; he digs his heels in, prickling with anger in place of the misery he's feeling. ]
It either is, or isn't. And so what if the way I love you is lesser, in your eyes? Do you even know what altruism is, to me? It is asking for nothing from you in return. Like you're not worth what you offer. That's stupid!
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He hates this—hates disappointing someone who had come to him for understanding, hates crumbling apart and revealing all the weakest and most selfish parts of himself, hates his own pitiful humiliation at having wished for something Set was never, even from the beginning, prepared to give him—and hates that Set must witness all of it.
He hates it almost too much to speak, and instead drags in a harsh, shuddering breath as Set talks about his worth. As though that isn’t the problem; as though he hadn’t wanted, just once, foolishly, to be valued independently of what he might have to give.]
The care I have laid at your feet was never meant to buy your affection.
[He gave it because he could, because to him, that is what love is. And he gave it without expecting repayment; only the pleasure of making someone dear to him happy.
Of all the things to make into currency, this seems like the very worst.]
I am weary of love that must be measured by what I have to offer.
[It is the easiest love to find, he has discovered, and it has kept him from starving—but after too long it begins to taste like ash.]
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[ The explosion comes, abrupt and cascading. Behind Liem, the silken warmth of the cloned body holds him without flinching or crushing him; if anything, Set's copy is still gently affectionate, face pressed into Liem's hair and hands so gentle on his waist, the truth of Set's being, because there is no mask he can make such a simple thing wear. His prime body, however, curls into himself. His hands cover his ears, as if to block out the way Liem continues to push against him, to misunderstand him ( or, is it, as always, that Set lacks; that something inside of him is incapable of being anything someone wants? ).
His fingers fist in his hair, and then his hands find Liem's face and frame it. Hard and fast, as if ready to crush his skull between his palms as he searches for those strange, dark eyes. Set's own teeth bite into his lower lip, his brow twisted between anger and woe as he looks at Liem and tries to find the bridge between them. ]
That is not what I mean, Liem Talbott! You could offer me nothing at all, and I would love you. For you to think I, of all people, measure you by such criteria is not correct. It will never be correct! I am not bought by you, I am not weighing your soul — ! I just do! I just have, steadily and certainly, come to want to love you. Choose to love you!
[ Nephthys had known, once, that Set was a deep romantic. Awkward and unsure, fumbling — but so very, very sincere. A liar, Liem had called him. Sincere, his wife had once known him to be. To be mortal, loved by a god, is akin to madness, is it not? ]
You... augh! [ A frustrated noise, and he shoves his forehead to Liem's. His teeth flash, biting down on the man's bottom lip frantically, frenetic in energy. ]
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More shocking than the revelation of Set’s bitter, desperate devotion is the idea that he—that anyone—would choose this. Would choose Liem, and not just love him, but choose to love him, against every instinct he has; something so unexpected he has no recourse against it.]
But…
[He cannot finish the thought. The double at his back is still keeping him captive, gentle hands like hooks, painful to tear himself away from—and Set advances on him like a stormfront. A small, shocked sound escapes him as Set leans in and his teeth find Liem’s lip, a sharp, rude sting.]
Set—
[As if to spite him, his heart throbs fiercely with sudden, savage longing, and his fingers splay up Set’s chest to slide over the sides of his neck, and his forehead continues to rest against Set’s, lips lingering at the corner of his mouth. Despite himself, he still so desperately wants everything Set gives him, no matter how wild or painful. Even when all his thoughts are thrown into confusion, this truth remains inescapable: he wants to belong to this tempestuous god.
But he must make one thing clear.]
That is not “lesser.” It is more than anyone has yet given me.
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I am not so different than I was before, that you cannot still trust me with your heart.
[ A lot of him that was good and righteous and sweet was gone, anyways. Torn from his body by violence, left to fester and decay and be picked over by vultures in the form of other men with hungry hands and mean eyes. Ruined by someone's insane idea of love and left to survive a shell of a man, a protector become a tyrant. And he still, even without his altruism, felt love. Was himself. Just a little sharper, given particular situations. Choices made would be built on different needs and foreseen results.
So, he breathes those words against Liem's bitten mouth and pushes himself against the other, sweeping hands across his face and throat, his waist. As if trying to touch all of him at once, not realizing that with his power, he honestly could. ]
Deliberately. That is how I feel everything for you.
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But perhaps Set would not love him for that. That is a strange thought—and a familiar one. Wondering what about him might be lovable, and what is not.]
Deliberately, [he repeats, breath ghosting over the desert god’s skin. It seems, to him, incongruous: just short of impossible. The warm hands wandering his body spark an apprehensive, untrusting hope beneath shivering skin, greedy and suspicious all at once.]
You will still choose to love me, even if I offer you nothing in return?
[Senseless. Impossible for him now, surely. He must gain something from such a love, after all.]
Even if loving me is difficult? Even if… [Somehow, horridly, this is the thing he struggles most to say out of all of it.] Even if I disappoint you, in the end?
[Even if he is not worth it after all?]
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Sickened by himself, for had he not also whispered to Liem while curled in his lap, that he hoped they would have a relationship that was not transactional. That a price did not have to be paid by either of them. And then, he had given up the ability to truly make that a reality. Now, he had to get something from Liem. More than that, he wanted something from Liem — the acknowledgment, the companionship, the affection and trust. Why were those things he should not ask for? Why should he accept "nothing" as a valid response, as if Liem himself did not represent the whole of himself? ]
"You cannot refrain from one and still provide the other."
[ Liem had said that to him, and then — he had come back to him. Back from the comfort of Zenith, as he regained his hope.
His nose feels full. Why is it that he always ends up crying so pitifully around the people that matter to him, in Kenos? Set has always been such a sentimental thing, hiding the truth of himself behind harsh masks and determination and cruelty. Really, he's a huge romantic, a creature that wants to be loved and accepted, who has room to be himself and known.
( Even if I disappoint you, in the end? ) ]
Even if. Even so.
[ He sniffles, grossly and hates himself for it. Buries his face low in Liem's shirt collar and pretends like he's not about to leave a trail of tears and warm breath soaking the nice fabric. ]
I will not refrain from choosing you. Because I want — I want you to choose me too, for the same reasons you think you are not... worth it.
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He knows he cannot receive love without wanting to give back in turn; the idea is not believable even in passing. But that is not the point. Whether he wants to give Set anything is not the point, and his embrace turns desperately tight, clutching at Set’s back as he grapples with his utter inability to be good for the man who is even now trying to confess his love for him.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn't matter if Set promises to choose Liem, if he says that he loves him, if he says he is worth it, because he still wants in return: Liem’s devotion, Liem’s loyalty, Liem’s love. And one thing he knows is that he has always disappointed the people who have wanted these things from him, and they have ever decided that they didn’t want them after all.]
I’m not.
[He mumbles it against the god’s hair, even as one hand climbs up to stroke the back of his head, a melancholy, self-comforting touch gentle over glossy red silk. Set is right, though. He’s not worth it. There’s something wrong with him—with the love he has to offer. He’s sure even Set will realize it eventually.
I want you to choose me too, he said.
It inspires a terrible panic in Liem, because choosing someone has always meant, to him, that he would try to be whatever they wanted—and that has always been the beginning of the end. Shame aches so wretchedly behind his ribs, strangles him so tightly, that he can barely breathe. He cannot stop his eyes from stinging again, spilling tears down already-damp cheeks.]
Set. I don’t know how: To love properly. To be worth loving.
You weren’t supposed to ask that of me.
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His hands sweep up, to the wetness on Liem's cheeks. Such a stoic man, and here he stands crying — and why? Because someone wants to love him and be loved in return? Liem is crying. The way that Set had wept in his lap, sobbing because he hadn't even had the opportunity to help this man at the time and he had thought him lost. Had prepared, then, to still be his friend even if it meant ending his life to keep his promise to his son. And then Liem had come back, and in part for him. How strange, to be shown such consideration!
So, he dips down a little, to place his face at the line of Liem's eye — and drags the warmth of his tongue, animal-like, across the salt of his tears before meeting his eye.
I do not believe that about you. Any of it. Let me learn who you are, and determine that for myself. I do not need you to love me — I want you to. And if... you do not, that is fine. But, I will not accept that you are incapable of it.
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He is not expecting, when Set draws back to look at him, the red-eyed stare and the hands on his face to be followed by the god’s tongue dragging over the damp of his cheek. Liem’s expression, stern and frowning in an effort not to crumple in abject misery, falters in bewildered surprise. He is suddenly left completely lost, having no ready reply to anything that is happening in this moment.
He opens his mouth, but it is a while before he can make anything come out.]
All right.
[Shockingly, he finds that when Set says he doesn’t need his love, even if he wants it… he actually believes him. Maybe it’s because he is divine, and ultimately doesn’t need anything from mortals aside from their worship. (Maybe it’s because his love isn’t shallow.)
Liem leans his face gently into one of the hands framing it, feeling overwarm and nervous and a little sick. He desperately wants to just go lie down.]
I’m sorry I called you a liar. That was unfair of me.
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[ Right here, he lets himself slip a little.
The deep formality, the glowing audacity of a god used to speaking and being heard slips away and leaves him a little quieter, a little subdued. His tongue slackens, words blurring into something more casual and less — distant. Liem apologizes for calling him a liar, and he suddenly feels very tired. Lying used to be something he did, a lot. Enough, so that his entire history was changed for the worst because he'd put on a mask and lied, pretending he was something monstrous and strong.
Liem wasn't entirely wrong, he thinks. Maybe he is still lying, just to himself. ]
I made you stand in your foyer and have a terrible conversation with me, I'm not surprised you spoke harshly. We all say things... that we do and don't mean, when we are overwhelmed and scared. One day, I'll even do the same to you.
[ He's NOT talking about his confession of love!!!
Set dips, bending at the knees a little so that he can shove his arms around Liem's waist and the back of his thighs and lift him, bodily hauling him up from the ground so that he can hold him. Carry him deeper into the house, face pushing into the cool crook of his neck as he does so. He can follow his nose, familiar with the shape and size of the rooms and halls, the cool, dark spaces that Liem needs because the sunlight hurts him. ]
It's still choosing one another afterwards that matters.