You cannot claim that was a line not to be crossed in hindsight, Sebastian. Just because you got sloppy after tasting the freedoms given to you for being Zenith's does not mean I will immediately agree that you are due anything over your own mistake.
[ Sebastian hates weakness. Set knows this. To point it out is tantamount to asking to fight to the death, yet he does it regardless — because, seeing the normally preternaturally-composed demon so very, very unhinged is both enticing and frightening. He's furious, and Set isn't against taking advantage of this wrath, pressing on it like a bruise welling beneath the skin and urging him to think. To be himself, remember his priorities and realize: ] You let Yima give you what you already earned.
[ He feels the wet ( and simultaneously dry? ) drag of claws from his body and twists, mouth full of dark ichor and shadow and mock-blood as he drags his lips into a dire frown. Upset, a little, on behalf of the soul who was destroyed, but pressing it into a shape that makes him look sympathetic with Sebastian. His hand cups over his side, which aches and screams with pain even after the demon withdraws his fingers, his voice a rasp, a hiss of vicious daring. He could be destroyed for this. Sebastian is capable of it. ]
You were mislead and used, as I see it. I promise I do not dare to insult you with pity this time — it is only that there is no worth in Zenith's immediate gratification if there is no guarantee. What an empty promise you were given, in exchange for your dutiful service.
no subject
[ Sebastian hates weakness. Set knows this. To point it out is tantamount to asking to fight to the death, yet he does it regardless — because, seeing the normally preternaturally-composed demon so very, very unhinged is both enticing and frightening. He's furious, and Set isn't against taking advantage of this wrath, pressing on it like a bruise welling beneath the skin and urging him to think. To be himself, remember his priorities and realize: ] You let Yima give you what you already earned.
[ He feels the wet ( and simultaneously dry? ) drag of claws from his body and twists, mouth full of dark ichor and shadow and mock-blood as he drags his lips into a dire frown. Upset, a little, on behalf of the soul who was destroyed, but pressing it into a shape that makes him look sympathetic with Sebastian. His hand cups over his side, which aches and screams with pain even after the demon withdraws his fingers, his voice a rasp, a hiss of vicious daring. He could be destroyed for this. Sebastian is capable of it. ]
You were mislead and used, as I see it. I promise I do not dare to insult you with pity this time — it is only that there is no worth in Zenith's immediate gratification if there is no guarantee. What an empty promise you were given, in exchange for your dutiful service.