Seth (deshret) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2008-07-03 02:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | sekhmet, set |
Who: Sekhmet and Set
Where: Luxor Bar & Lounge in Manhattan
When: Wednesday night
It was midnight – or, at least, it felt like it. The sky was a dull, hazy purple and moisture clung to the air like an oppressive, invisible force: sticky and disgusting and unbearably hot. The prickling threat of thunderstorms had been imminent all day; Set’s heart had been leaping all over the place at the very prospect of a frenzied, chaotic downpour but, now, dusk had come and gone and not a single raindrop had fallen. It was as if the city had become a sandless desert and that thought , to Set, was comforting.
As he strolled absentmindedly down a bustling sidewalk that evening, Set noted to himself that the night, young as it was, already had seemed to stretch on forever. Everyone around him appeared to have noticed it too; people were heading home at uncharacteristically early hours and grumblings about the heat drowned out the usual chirps of gossip and clinks of glasses. Even Set himself wondered what exactly he was doing outside on that night; the atmosphere was making him feel restless and queasy. The temperature was making him feel lightheaded.
But the heat and humidity was not all in the air that night. There was something else, waiting just beyond that heat and moisture and endless darkness. Something powerful. Something destructive. Whatever it was, it made Set’s skin prickle.
Becoming increasingly aware that his shirt was becoming glued to him, Set slipped into the nearest bar – a bar who’s sign named it ‘Luxor Bar and Lounge’ - if only for the air conditioning and a chance to rest his legs. A voice hit him hard and unexpectedly across the face as he entered; the music and the lyrics were lost as he laid his eyes upon the lonely singer on the stage. He knew her but, for the life of him, could not place a name to the face or, indeed, could not place an old face to that new face. A tingle of familiarly, nostalgia and a burning desire to talk to her. Power. Destruction. The song seemed nowhere near its end. No matter, he would have to wait. He did not mind. He took a seat; he was enjoying watching her.