[closed/complete] Characters: Horus (falconhead) and Set (voiceofthunder) Date/Time: Pre-Horus/Anubis fight Location: Ludus Rating: Med Warnings: Swearing and angst. And trolling. Summary: Set trolls a Byronic-hero-tryhard!Horus.
The match against Anubis would be starting in mere hours. While the best course of action might have been to rest and conserve energy, Horus found himself at the training yard despite the late hour of night. Relentlessly, he drove against the targets, undiscriminating in his choice of weapon. He picked up whatever was available and charged - were battle tactics not so instinctively drilled into the falcon god, the exercise would have been utterly without grace or potency.
The sole intention was to destroy. Which only fed Horus's growing fear that the whole excursion would transform him into his uncle. Unlikely and ill-founded, but the insecurity had haunted Horus for far longer than he dared admit.
To Set more than anyone there was some of hilarious irony in the match between Horus and Anubis. He was more familiar with Horus than the son of his wife, which was only a given after their many years of battle. But it was what started their own battle that made the brothers' fight so interesting. Set had killed his brother. That had been something he accepted as an inevitability and something he would never apologize for as terrible as the others considered him to be. He didn't care and it didn't matter. He did what needed to be done back then.
It would be different for Horus. In this situation he would not be blamed. It was forced upon them more clearly by some other being and they had no choice but to fight. But even then Horus would not lose and still had to face the thought of killing his brother. It was a feeling he wasn't foreign to.
Though he had been avoiding him, Set finally decided to taunt a bit. No sense in passing up a good opportunity. Smiling, he stepped up slowly, not interrupting Horus's training too abruptly.
"Horus."
Nonetheless, Horus was surprised, and a particularly forceful blow went off target and would have sent Horus careening to the floor had he not caught himself quickly after the throw. He turned with teeth bared to lambast the intruder, but he faltered momentarily upon seeing who it was.
"Set," he returned with equal rancor, turning back to the target. "I don't have the time to fight you."
Arms crossed, Set wasn't phased by Horus's reaction. He remained calm with that smile still on his face. "Don't be silly, I didn't come here for that," he reassured. Though that begged the question what he was there for.
"Getting ready for your match?"
Had Horus turned, Set might have seen the unflattering scowl on his face. "Then what the fuck did you come here for?"
The question was ignored. Of course Horus wasn't getting ready for his match. He didn't need to, and that more than anything killed him.
"I just wanted to really see you," he replied, lying of course. Well, a partial lie, which was not something unusual to him. He hadn't met Horus as a human yet, and it was interesting to see him in person. Perhaps the setting wasn't quite ideal to see him as he normally was as a mortal, but there hadn't been any reasonable opportunity to even want to seek him out. Since becoming aware, Set had spent too much time pretending he didn't know over half his Egyptian family as it was.
He just couldn't pass up the chance to rub his misfortunes in his face when it was so easy. "An uncle can't visit his favorite nephew? It's been a very long time, and you seem to need the moral support right now."
The duplicity was not lost on Horus. He was fairly certain that, given the chance, Set would drive one of the training swords through his gut. Whoever Set was in mortality or whatever he did, the nephew was incapable of escaping the one-dimensional view he had of the uncle: evil, not to be trusted, and all the other japes Isis had drilled into Horus the Child's head as most modern mothers would have done with the boogeyman.
"Favorite nephew, my ass." Losing patience, Horus dropped the sword, moving to face Set with as passive a face as could be managed. (Not passive at all.) "Load of shit. Just fuck off." His hand was clenching and relaxing at intervals as he fought the instinct to plant a fist in Set's face.
Set remained quickly indifferent to Horus's reactions. They were what he was pushing for, what he always appreciated getting out of someone. Even if it was Horus. That was always why he liked him more than the others he could have been fighting. He knew perhaps better than any of the others that his nephew was a bit more like him than anyone would have been willing to admit. Not because of what was good or evil. But there was a willingness to act where the others would avoid confrontation with him. And there was that unspoken time that Horus had beheaded his own mother. That just wasn't something to bring up directly at the moment. There were plenty of other things to do.
"You know what you can do," he finally continued. "Everyone does." Set dared to left out a small chuckle and start taking a few steps around where Horus stood. "Don't hesitate."
And there again was the blind rage Horus was so ashamed of possessing. He didn't spare a moment to think or to contemplate the possible repercussions of his actions. His legs sent him forward, and his fist shot out.
Perhaps instinctive battle skills had him aiming for the face, the throat, the solar plexus - he didn't know and he didn't care. The visceral need to lash out consumed him, and control became a farce he wasn't willing to put up with. Everyone knew what he could do - but that wasn't the problem. He knew what he could do, and in a tiny, shameful part of his mind, he'd come to the conclusion that Anubis was as good as dead by his hands.
Set had been training, too, of course. As much as he possibly could. Being a god of war who had killed a god himself, he had a title to live up to. Even as a mortal, he was determined to at least be at his best. He was quick to react when Horus sent a fist this way. Perhaps not as quick as he would've been in New York, but decently so compared to the other in a drunk rage.
He allowed he fist to hit, but he stood his ground. Raising his arms, he took advantage of Horus's close proximity and brought his clasped fists down on him. "Don't start." He certainly had no problems fighting his nephew. Especially when he had provoked him. However, they has rules to obey within the ludus. "Not here. You have another battle to stay in shape for."
"Fuck."
Horus shrugged Set's fists off, ignoring the burn resulting from the thrown weight, and walked off, hands gripping his head, almost as if to pull off invisible hairs. "Fuck," he repeated. "Fucking---"
He wished he could face his uncle like a man, like an equal. But with the fight with Anubis on the horizon, there was no chance in hell Horus could be half the god he had been.
"Just go." Hollow words, rasped out with the voice of a man self-indulgently drunk on his own sorrows. Fuck self-absorption, fuck self-indulgence -- Anubis's life was at stake, and all Horus could think of was taking it. "Just fuck off."
Another laugh. Set was almost expecting him to not listen and to strike again. That's what he was preparing himself for at least. However, there was nothing. Instead he at least got to enjoy watching Horus cursing to the air, letting his inner torment show a bit too much. He had done enough to rub it in his face. He had just needed to see it.
"If you need someone to talk to, you know where I'll be," he said, not even trying to disguise the amusement in his tone. He wouldn't be letting Horus forget either. But for now, that was all. With a casual wave, Set turned to make his exit.