[ Prayer, spent upon the tumbling, endless waves of the desert. Armand, upon his knees, his spine lengthened in obedience as he made a request of a deity that, although diminished, faithfully listens for the words of his own faithful. His dark child has asked him to watch over Robert Reynolds, for one reason or another. Be that in his power, he will fulfill it. ]
He thinks sweetly of you. That you matter to him, he turned to me to ensure your heart remain protected. What little I was informed of, the fact that you struggle with a darkness was the most important.
[ There is a brutality, in how unreserved he is to speak of matters that are likely deeply personal to someone else. A lack of concern? Or perhaps, he simply doesn't care to tiptoe around the matter, because — well, wouldn't it hurt more to find out later that someone knew ( a little ) of your circumstances and either thought it so inconsequential as not to mention it, or was too cowardly to look you in the eye and acknowledge it about you. To see it within you, and not flinch?
Set isn't the type to flinch, before darkness. ( In some tomes, he is the one who opposes it; the greatest weapon in Ra's arsenal, who stands against Chaos. Against the end of all existence. ) Right now, he's the one offering Bob a personal perspective on a subject that Armand said he was looking into. Regardless of Bob's apprehension, his reluctant posture, Set stands rooted and firm; his chin lifted with obvious pride, shoulders mantled against potential judgement. A solitary, crisp figure with an expression as smoothed clean of emotion as could be — to protect himself, perhaps. It's a recognizable enough traits, if one is familiar with people who have oft been crushed down, battered by mockery or made a laughing stock of. The revocation of personality privileges. A quiet wariness lives in the corners of Set's gaze, as his eyes wander from Bob's face to his hands, holding the journal. ]
The fragmentation of a soul. In Egypt, we know a soul is made of multiple parts. Armand mentioned a little about your struggle, and I thought if you wished another perspective on it — reading the words of philosophers who have long co-opted my people's faith and knowledge might not be as helpful as having a first-person perspective.
[ Adding, perhaps too boldly — his tone wiggling and wobbling like a cat eager to pounce upon a new, crinkly toy it wants to kickykickydestroy: ] He has faith that I am the one in this house that could handle you.
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[ Prayer, spent upon the tumbling, endless waves of the desert. Armand, upon his knees, his spine lengthened in obedience as he made a request of a deity that, although diminished, faithfully listens for the words of his own faithful. His dark child has asked him to watch over Robert Reynolds, for one reason or another. Be that in his power, he will fulfill it. ]
He thinks sweetly of you. That you matter to him, he turned to me to ensure your heart remain protected. What little I was informed of, the fact that you struggle with a darkness was the most important.
[ There is a brutality, in how unreserved he is to speak of matters that are likely deeply personal to someone else. A lack of concern? Or perhaps, he simply doesn't care to tiptoe around the matter, because — well, wouldn't it hurt more to find out later that someone knew ( a little ) of your circumstances and either thought it so inconsequential as not to mention it, or was too cowardly to look you in the eye and acknowledge it about you. To see it within you, and not flinch?
Set isn't the type to flinch, before darkness. ( In some tomes, he is the one who opposes it; the greatest weapon in Ra's arsenal, who stands against Chaos. Against the end of all existence. ) Right now, he's the one offering Bob a personal perspective on a subject that Armand said he was looking into. Regardless of Bob's apprehension, his reluctant posture, Set stands rooted and firm; his chin lifted with obvious pride, shoulders mantled against potential judgement. A solitary, crisp figure with an expression as smoothed clean of emotion as could be — to protect himself, perhaps. It's a recognizable enough traits, if one is familiar with people who have oft been crushed down, battered by mockery or made a laughing stock of. The revocation of personality privileges. A quiet wariness lives in the corners of Set's gaze, as his eyes wander from Bob's face to his hands, holding the journal. ]
The fragmentation of a soul. In Egypt, we know a soul is made of multiple parts. Armand mentioned a little about your struggle, and I thought if you wished another perspective on it — reading the words of philosophers who have long co-opted my people's faith and knowledge might not be as helpful as having a first-person perspective.
[ Adding, perhaps too boldly — his tone wiggling and wobbling like a cat eager to pounce upon a new, crinkly toy it wants to kickykickydestroy: ] He has faith that I am the one in this house that could handle you.