[The Communion startled Byleth, as all Communion contacts did, but this one had been a potent, tempestuous thing, rushing over him like a freak thunderstorm and leaving his hair standing on end and his unbeating heart metaphorically skipping several beats. He froze almost comically, his pen - Sothis's remains - hovering over paper, the ink still shining and wet, before he slowly set it back down into its inkwell.
He waited, but the silence stretched in the wake of that natural disaster guised as a man's soul. He wondered if the contact had been accidental, or impulsive, and debated in pretending not to notice if that was what Set wanted - but at the same time, he remembered Set, wild-eyed and frenetic, standing amongst a field of blooming flowers and clawing at him with desperate fingers, who had snarled at him to leave, even though that was the last thing he had needed.
So, he didn't hesitate. He reached back, figurative hand open and gentle.]
[ — what eventually returns to Byleth, after much delay, is the impression of a pair of hands slipping across his palm. One tucking along Byleth's hand, the other reaching higher, to grasp at his wrist and tightly haul the other man into the place where their minds blend together in Communion. Set is normally a nebulous presence within Communion, preferring to take the form of sensation and emotion, natural phenomena and bits and pieces of a true human shape,
it is when he exists at his most liberated, after all. In the realm of the imagination. ]
Byleth, I found it. Liem and I reached the temple our other team saw —
[ And of course he will share such information with Byleth, as he is owed the results of all their labors. ]
We are figuring out what to do, but you... I. I went to your mind, too.
[In Communion, Byleth was far more solid in his perception of himself. There was no abstract, no ambiguity; he was as he was in reality, unable to conceptualise a 'him' beyond that which he saw in the mirror everyday. It meant that as Set reeled him into a shared Communion space, he offset Set's chaotic presence with his own immutable one, grounded despite the mental maelstrom the god buffeted him with.
It was like being trapped in a sandstorm, gritty and blinding. Byleth had to take a moment to blink the figurative sand out of his eyes, feeling a little like he had just ran headlong into a wall from being yanked so roughly into this joint space. His poor, unbeating heart was getting a bit of a shock from so much emotional overload here, goodness.]
I... yes, you have. [Byleth adjusted, though, as quickly as he could, and kept his grip firm on Set.] But you have me at a slight disadvantage... are you upset by your findings? Excited? Do you need me to help in some way?
[ Byleth is rooted and firm, where Set has always gone where his whims have taken him. A trait that had caused an unending grief and madness to be born ( to have been exacerbated? ) within others, but not Byleth. He has always been gentle, been kind. No matter the numbed neutrality of emotions within him, he has clearly always felt things, lived by a code that might have befitted a mercenary, but had also allowed him to grow into something sweet.
It seems that it takes a long moment, for Set to fully recognize who's mind he has dashed himself into. Longer still to muddle through that it is Byleth, that he does not know why he has driven himself to Byleth. Why he is held instead of thrown out. The disorientation of it leaves him a swirling storm, the impression of his wrist caught within a firm grip. And with the cooling, calming wash of Zenith, Set forms from the sands and drops into Byleth's company — the guise of a human with endless red hair pouring behind him like veils and ribbons, back into the depths of his own mind.
]
Oh. Of course I would come to you.
[ A little raw, he admits aloud something he seems to have come to realize. ]
No, no. Liem is with me, we are deciding what to do — I only was feeling so many things at once, and there was not enough of "me" to hold it all.
[Byleth, always cutting to the heart of the matter. Still, there was no judgement or anything in Byleth's voice, just a simple observation, his grip gentling on Set but not releasing him. He found it easier to gaze upon the god now that he had taken a form he could fully understand. A sandstorm wasn't really kind on the eyes.]
Do you feel better now? If you still feel too much, I could try singing to calm your emotions. I'm not sure how effective it'd be within the confines of our mind, though...
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👀
He waited, but the silence stretched in the wake of that natural disaster guised as a man's soul. He wondered if the contact had been accidental, or impulsive, and debated in pretending not to notice if that was what Set wanted - but at the same time, he remembered Set, wild-eyed and frenetic, standing amongst a field of blooming flowers and clawing at him with desperate fingers, who had snarled at him to leave, even though that was the last thing he had needed.
So, he didn't hesitate. He reached back, figurative hand open and gentle.]
Hello, Set. Do you want to spend time with me?
THE PEN!!!!!!! :CATCRY:
it is when he exists at his most liberated, after all. In the realm of the imagination. ]
Byleth, I found it. Liem and I reached the temple our other team saw —
[ And of course he will share such information with Byleth, as he is owed the results of all their labors. ]
We are figuring out what to do, but you... I. I went to your mind, too.
the pen!!!
It was like being trapped in a sandstorm, gritty and blinding. Byleth had to take a moment to blink the figurative sand out of his eyes, feeling a little like he had just ran headlong into a wall from being yanked so roughly into this joint space. His poor, unbeating heart was getting a bit of a shock from so much emotional overload here, goodness.]
I... yes, you have. [Byleth adjusted, though, as quickly as he could, and kept his grip firm on Set.] But you have me at a slight disadvantage... are you upset by your findings? Excited? Do you need me to help in some way?
no subject
It seems that it takes a long moment, for Set to fully recognize who's mind he has dashed himself into. Longer still to muddle through that it is Byleth, that he does not know why he has driven himself to Byleth. Why he is held instead of thrown out. The disorientation of it leaves him a swirling storm, the impression of his wrist caught within a firm grip. And with the cooling, calming wash of Zenith, Set forms from the sands and drops into Byleth's company — the guise of a human with endless red hair pouring behind him like veils and ribbons, back into the depths of his own mind.
Oh. Of course I would come to you.
[ A little raw, he admits aloud something he seems to have come to realize. ]
No, no. Liem is with me, we are deciding what to do — I only was feeling so many things at once, and there was not enough of "me" to hold it all.
no subject
[Byleth, always cutting to the heart of the matter. Still, there was no judgement or anything in Byleth's voice, just a simple observation, his grip gentling on Set but not releasing him. He found it easier to gaze upon the god now that he had taken a form he could fully understand. A sandstorm wasn't really kind on the eyes.]
Do you feel better now? If you still feel too much, I could try singing to calm your emotions. I'm not sure how effective it'd be within the confines of our mind, though...