Oh, (lessa answers eloquently, staggering into their new pace. as foreign as set's touch may be, it's far and away the friendliest one he's experienced since before his slumbering a millennium ago.

thoughts stray to ares. thoughts stray to diane.

his stride quickens.)

Of course, I mean it. We are assigned beds that might do... They're slabs of stone in the separate room ahead. Left, if you'll lead the way. (tethered to set, he'll drift along like the god's left a current in his wake. once they're within the chamber, it's a relief to see fewer people. the ones who are present sleep fitfully on their own slates, oblivious to their comparatively loud entrance.) Set, I'd ask you to keep my own experiences to yourself, too... Though many of them are painful, my memories are very precious to me.

(once again, he glances over at his unlikely friend.

set will know the weight of time. thousands upon thousands of years of good times and bad. how could he not? the war god's age shows in his eyes if not in his face and body. so lessa will trust him, and he'll sit with a hand still holding his arm.)

...

I don't suppose you'd know any cultists with extra flasks of goo we're supposed to drink. A god of truth would.

(ma'at, please..........)