Oh? Being dead didn't stick? Some might say that means Osiris has a soft spot for you.
[ However, the snide little tone that Set takes with Marc suggests that he does not believe that at all; he's less the type to find humans pitiable and endearing, and more the type to consider such meddlesome antics the whim of a god. Whether Khonshu was the one who intervened, or Osiris was the one to reject the Knight from Duat ( as Set would assume ), it's odd to look upon a man so thoroughly god-touched. Even in his time, the Ennead did not select single humans to carry their attentions, instead lavishing them upon cities and centers of worship instead.
As he is ignored, by the man who crouches alongside the cooling corpse of the beast he has felled ( and yeeted at Marc, as a warning! ), he briefly bristles. Of all things, failing or choosing to acknowledge him in any capacity rankle him, and though his hackles begin to rise, he does not have to force the man to look upon him again. To speak to him. Marc elects to do that, all on his own. On silent feet, he draws near to the Knight again, bare ankles and calves in the peripherals of his vision. The curtain of red hair unbound, utterly perfect, and far too long to be sensible for a wargod; anyone could just grab it.
But, it burns faintly. Coils in pale plumes of delicate flame and smoke, here and there. An oddity for sure, but related to the sickly-rich sense of Discord that radiates from him. He's sloppy, messy, beautiful in appearance and disheveled in personality and bite. ]
Why would I agree to that, priest? If someone falls under your protection, but threatens my goals — I will destroy them. You cannot cast your net so wide, you will fail at whatever you want to accomplish too quickly. It will cause you too much grief to carry on, however you do. Be a little more judicious, and I may find you agreeable. Even if you are the moon god's own.
[ As he bends down, it is to ghost a hand over the material of Marc's shoulder, to flatten his palm there as if he needs to steady himself upon another to sink to the ground, kneeling in the dirt alongside the beast that remains still. ]
Did Khonshu ever teach you the last rites of his ancestral home?
no subject
[ However, the snide little tone that Set takes with Marc suggests that he does not believe that at all; he's less the type to find humans pitiable and endearing, and more the type to consider such meddlesome antics the whim of a god. Whether Khonshu was the one who intervened, or Osiris was the one to reject the Knight from Duat ( as Set would assume ), it's odd to look upon a man so thoroughly god-touched. Even in his time, the Ennead did not select single humans to carry their attentions, instead lavishing them upon cities and centers of worship instead.
As he is ignored, by the man who crouches alongside the cooling corpse of the beast he has felled ( and yeeted at Marc, as a warning! ), he briefly bristles. Of all things, failing or choosing to acknowledge him in any capacity rankle him, and though his hackles begin to rise, he does not have to force the man to look upon him again. To speak to him. Marc elects to do that, all on his own. On silent feet, he draws near to the Knight again, bare ankles and calves in the peripherals of his vision. The curtain of red hair unbound, utterly perfect, and far too long to be sensible for a wargod; anyone could just grab it.
But, it burns faintly. Coils in pale plumes of delicate flame and smoke, here and there. An oddity for sure, but related to the sickly-rich sense of Discord that radiates from him. He's sloppy, messy, beautiful in appearance and disheveled in personality and bite. ]
Why would I agree to that, priest? If someone falls under your protection, but threatens my goals — I will destroy them. You cannot cast your net so wide, you will fail at whatever you want to accomplish too quickly. It will cause you too much grief to carry on, however you do. Be a little more judicious, and I may find you agreeable. Even if you are the moon god's own.
[ As he bends down, it is to ghost a hand over the material of Marc's shoulder, to flatten his palm there as if he needs to steady himself upon another to sink to the ground, kneeling in the dirt alongside the beast that remains still. ]
Did Khonshu ever teach you the last rites of his ancestral home?