eight.
After a few wrong turns and jiggling a few locks that wouldn't come undone, Set was a frustrated, frustrated man. Several hours with a sister watching his every move -- in his mind, ciphering out all of his little quirks and inadequacies under those gleaming eyes -- he was soon hitting lows with his patience. Of course, in times of trouble, he was managing to forgive her, to love her, because he wouldn't have it any other way. But it's not like they were getting along like two peas in a pod. The last door that wouldn't hinge unnerved him enough to kick it open with an aggravation that came very very close to his episode with Horus.
But instead of venting his frustration on the doors, he suddenly turned around and snapped, "You know what it is, sister? It's your magic." His fingers grappled onto the doorway. "You have a real penchant for giving people misery. Do you know how long it took for me to find you? Minutes. But now that you're with me, we're having a hell of a time getting back. I suppose you don't want to live. And you'll have me go with you." He finished dryly.
Being in silence had never been a problem to Isis. Considering she was currently sharing space with her estranged brother, that particular quality was being used to the max. The goddess never knew where she stood with her brother. Just as she didn’t know where he stood with herself. Better to keep to their little game, never too private, always snappish and, when not playing, fall to silence. And she couldn’t deny that, having one familiar figure - even if carrying so many issues against her that it almost felt like physical baggage - was a great comfort.
"Do not be a fool, Set." Her voice didn’t raise above her normal nonsensical tone and neither the harsh words made her step back. The woman kept by his back, trying very hard to keep a neutral distance. Heavens help her, that place forced chills through her spine with every shadow. "You asked where I was, you offered to help me. If I had wanted to die, I would not be as petty as to drag you with me." She abruptly wished she had her magic. At least, it would dispel these blasted shadows. "Is this your way to cope? You sound so much younger." Around ten years old younger.
Her affront was almost met with him stooping to the advantage of his height, and his mouth tensed as though he had a very easy stream of words he wanted to say, except a passing sound had made him stop. His gaze strayed to the hallway when he saw a blur, perhaps just a shadow of a blur, over her shoulder. Or a shudder from her shoulder? Was Isis capable of it? But the brief pause was enough to leave him wondering whether he saw an apparition of his temper or a truly real threat.
No. Just an apparition of his temper. "You're reasoning with the brother you tried to trick to place your son above me. Spiteful behavior, sister. And this one probably isn't the last." He shifted his weight against the door, taking a step from her. Threatening her baselessly with separation. And yet he stayed where he was. "At least I'm trying to cope. I've no idea what you're doing."
Isis was also trying to reason with the man who had killed her husband, brother against brother against sister. They would be the talk of the town in modern times. "Is it not obvious?" She asked, straightening as if dignity was all she had there and all she needed. "I am simply replying to your wonder about my motives. Kill you indeed." The woman hadn’t managed not even when her son’s life had been on the line. Not for protection, not for revenge, not for spite. And even though her dread was present and kept growing, she took a step forward towards the next hallway, her hand shaking just barely as it rested on the nearest wall.
Afraid but not about to bow because of it.
"I am no sorceress these days, brother. I will use nothing against you." Except a good heavy tome or other alike object in case of too much sarcasm on frayed nerves. And speaking of those. Her eyes roamed over the darkness in front of her and her hand tightened into a small fist. Nothing. Nothing but fear and her imagination playing tricks on her. The morning couldn’t come sooner. Probably why Isis took such refuge in their banter. "Have you considered you probably do not have such a good sense of direction? Perhaps that is the reason to blame, not my would-be magic." Who was childish now?
He knew that every strong woman had her weaknesses. He didn't know which kind afflicted Isis. It seemed at times that he might catch it while she wasn't looking. But still, he found nothing specific. Isis was a noble queen. Her tone, proud and un-negotating even in the chill of the night, made the edge of his lips fold into a smirk. Without replying, he smirked as she answered his retort, and he smirked as she stepped toward him with that barely recognizable shake in her fingers. The annoyance suddenly sat on the back-burner. Willful, that woman. She was reminding him of Nephthys. After that, the smile faded as he leaned away to let her move past him. Sister of his wife, still mother of Horus. He regarded the hallway with a careful expression.
"Well then, sister." He skimmed the doors with a skeptical gaze. "I'm about as good at navigation as Osiris. Are you going to tell him he has a bad sense of direction?" A snort. "But I'm a forgiving man. Since you've always been so cunning, you can lead the way."
Set paced forward several steps and pushed his palm against the nearest door. But before he had a chance to wonder, leverage was lost when the wood swung open and he stumbled through the opening.
"If necessary. Marriage means you should be able to take over when your partner cannot. And since you believe yourself to be inadequate on this, I am most pleased to help you, my brother." Isis even chanced a small smile, a little amused, a little mocking. Odd, he was probably the only person she needled pointlessly. But her amusement faded in but a moment. As soon as he stumbled, Isis moved forward, trying to see in the darkness for a possible injury. "Set? Brother, are you well?" And it was actual worry coloring her tone. In that place, for those moments, the past seemed to have taken the backstage.
She would have tried to reach out for him only her attention began to be diverted. Steps. Steps behind them, a pace that sounded harsher, heavier than any of the gods and goddesses trapped would use. They knew they should be careful. Isis swallowed tightly, not daring to turn away from the still empty hallway but moving her hand backwards, attempting to touch her brother’s form. The other gripped the doorframe and tightened like the simple action would ground her.
Set bent his knees as he sat up just behind the doorway. Puzzling. For barely a second, he had the time to catch the (gratifying, in any other context) tint of worry in Isis's voice. The God drew a breath of air as if he would laugh, until a hand snagged against his neck drew it short. Instinctively, he dug his heels into the carpet and turned his sister's way as his fingers snatched at the offending hand. Shadows of frills and lithe, unnatural creatures were quickly filling the dim lighting in the narrow space. Moving ungracefully as his body twisted against the open door, he attempted, managed to make a sound.
"Behind you. Sister, behind you." He hissed. "They're--" Why wasn't she running? For God's sake, she heard them as well as he heard them. In the back of his mind, he wondered morbidly if Isis had a talent for imagining Osiris anyplace, anywhere. No, don't quip. Set unpried several fingers from his throat and glanced tensely at the encroaching figures who, in any case, he did not expect to slow down for the queen consort. "Go! Don't look. Turn around and run."
On normal circumstances, Isis would be hard pressed to do something like fleeing when in peril and leaving someone behind. To have that someone be her brother, now that was adding salt to the wound. Her sister would be heartbroken if she dared to do such a thing. But what made it truly sting was that fact that she was staring at her own nightmare. It was a man, a ghostly form who stared solely at her; good god, how had he come this close so quickly? Isis tried to back away and follow Set’s command but to where. Behind there was danger and in front...
The creature made good use of her hesitation. One second he was in front of her, in the next he was right by her side, a hand which carried a knife. Luckily, her body knew how to react even if her brain was quite numb. She threw herself against the wall just as the blade came down, a neat cut appearing solely on her arm, the only place it had been able to reach. Ghosts they might be but their weapons did damage. And if that didn’t wake her, nothing would.
"I cannot," her voice was but a whisper as her hand covered the wound. To stay there would be certain death. She looked left and right, backing even further against the wall as if it would protect her, until that seemed an action too futile for words. Pushing herself away, she turned around - two more, were these the ones who he was warning away? Of course, - gripped his arm and pulled. "Not alone. Come on. We make for the stairs."
[ooc; backdated just before the split/lockdown]
But instead of venting his frustration on the doors, he suddenly turned around and snapped, "You know what it is, sister? It's your magic." His fingers grappled onto the doorway. "You have a real penchant for giving people misery. Do you know how long it took for me to find you? Minutes. But now that you're with me, we're having a hell of a time getting back. I suppose you don't want to live. And you'll have me go with you." He finished dryly.
Being in silence had never been a problem to Isis. Considering she was currently sharing space with her estranged brother, that particular quality was being used to the max. The goddess never knew where she stood with her brother. Just as she didn’t know where he stood with herself. Better to keep to their little game, never too private, always snappish and, when not playing, fall to silence. And she couldn’t deny that, having one familiar figure - even if carrying so many issues against her that it almost felt like physical baggage - was a great comfort.
"Do not be a fool, Set." Her voice didn’t raise above her normal nonsensical tone and neither the harsh words made her step back. The woman kept by his back, trying very hard to keep a neutral distance. Heavens help her, that place forced chills through her spine with every shadow. "You asked where I was, you offered to help me. If I had wanted to die, I would not be as petty as to drag you with me." She abruptly wished she had her magic. At least, it would dispel these blasted shadows. "Is this your way to cope? You sound so much younger." Around ten years old younger.
Her affront was almost met with him stooping to the advantage of his height, and his mouth tensed as though he had a very easy stream of words he wanted to say, except a passing sound had made him stop. His gaze strayed to the hallway when he saw a blur, perhaps just a shadow of a blur, over her shoulder. Or a shudder from her shoulder? Was Isis capable of it? But the brief pause was enough to leave him wondering whether he saw an apparition of his temper or a truly real threat.
No. Just an apparition of his temper. "You're reasoning with the brother you tried to trick to place your son above me. Spiteful behavior, sister. And this one probably isn't the last." He shifted his weight against the door, taking a step from her. Threatening her baselessly with separation. And yet he stayed where he was. "At least I'm trying to cope. I've no idea what you're doing."
Isis was also trying to reason with the man who had killed her husband, brother against brother against sister. They would be the talk of the town in modern times. "Is it not obvious?" She asked, straightening as if dignity was all she had there and all she needed. "I am simply replying to your wonder about my motives. Kill you indeed." The woman hadn’t managed not even when her son’s life had been on the line. Not for protection, not for revenge, not for spite. And even though her dread was present and kept growing, she took a step forward towards the next hallway, her hand shaking just barely as it rested on the nearest wall.
Afraid but not about to bow because of it.
"I am no sorceress these days, brother. I will use nothing against you." Except a good heavy tome or other alike object in case of too much sarcasm on frayed nerves. And speaking of those. Her eyes roamed over the darkness in front of her and her hand tightened into a small fist. Nothing. Nothing but fear and her imagination playing tricks on her. The morning couldn’t come sooner. Probably why Isis took such refuge in their banter. "Have you considered you probably do not have such a good sense of direction? Perhaps that is the reason to blame, not my would-be magic." Who was childish now?
He knew that every strong woman had her weaknesses. He didn't know which kind afflicted Isis. It seemed at times that he might catch it while she wasn't looking. But still, he found nothing specific. Isis was a noble queen. Her tone, proud and un-negotating even in the chill of the night, made the edge of his lips fold into a smirk. Without replying, he smirked as she answered his retort, and he smirked as she stepped toward him with that barely recognizable shake in her fingers. The annoyance suddenly sat on the back-burner. Willful, that woman. She was reminding him of Nephthys. After that, the smile faded as he leaned away to let her move past him. Sister of his wife, still mother of Horus. He regarded the hallway with a careful expression.
"Well then, sister." He skimmed the doors with a skeptical gaze. "I'm about as good at navigation as Osiris. Are you going to tell him he has a bad sense of direction?" A snort. "But I'm a forgiving man. Since you've always been so cunning, you can lead the way."
Set paced forward several steps and pushed his palm against the nearest door. But before he had a chance to wonder, leverage was lost when the wood swung open and he stumbled through the opening.
"If necessary. Marriage means you should be able to take over when your partner cannot. And since you believe yourself to be inadequate on this, I am most pleased to help you, my brother." Isis even chanced a small smile, a little amused, a little mocking. Odd, he was probably the only person she needled pointlessly. But her amusement faded in but a moment. As soon as he stumbled, Isis moved forward, trying to see in the darkness for a possible injury. "Set? Brother, are you well?" And it was actual worry coloring her tone. In that place, for those moments, the past seemed to have taken the backstage.
She would have tried to reach out for him only her attention began to be diverted. Steps. Steps behind them, a pace that sounded harsher, heavier than any of the gods and goddesses trapped would use. They knew they should be careful. Isis swallowed tightly, not daring to turn away from the still empty hallway but moving her hand backwards, attempting to touch her brother’s form. The other gripped the doorframe and tightened like the simple action would ground her.
Set bent his knees as he sat up just behind the doorway. Puzzling. For barely a second, he had the time to catch the (gratifying, in any other context) tint of worry in Isis's voice. The God drew a breath of air as if he would laugh, until a hand snagged against his neck drew it short. Instinctively, he dug his heels into the carpet and turned his sister's way as his fingers snatched at the offending hand. Shadows of frills and lithe, unnatural creatures were quickly filling the dim lighting in the narrow space. Moving ungracefully as his body twisted against the open door, he attempted, managed to make a sound.
"Behind you. Sister, behind you." He hissed. "They're--" Why wasn't she running? For God's sake, she heard them as well as he heard them. In the back of his mind, he wondered morbidly if Isis had a talent for imagining Osiris anyplace, anywhere. No, don't quip. Set unpried several fingers from his throat and glanced tensely at the encroaching figures who, in any case, he did not expect to slow down for the queen consort. "Go! Don't look. Turn around and run."
On normal circumstances, Isis would be hard pressed to do something like fleeing when in peril and leaving someone behind. To have that someone be her brother, now that was adding salt to the wound. Her sister would be heartbroken if she dared to do such a thing. But what made it truly sting was that fact that she was staring at her own nightmare. It was a man, a ghostly form who stared solely at her; good god, how had he come this close so quickly? Isis tried to back away and follow Set’s command but to where. Behind there was danger and in front...
The creature made good use of her hesitation. One second he was in front of her, in the next he was right by her side, a hand which carried a knife. Luckily, her body knew how to react even if her brain was quite numb. She threw herself against the wall just as the blade came down, a neat cut appearing solely on her arm, the only place it had been able to reach. Ghosts they might be but their weapons did damage. And if that didn’t wake her, nothing would.
"I cannot," her voice was but a whisper as her hand covered the wound. To stay there would be certain death. She looked left and right, backing even further against the wall as if it would protect her, until that seemed an action too futile for words. Pushing herself away, she turned around - two more, were these the ones who he was warning away? Of course, - gripped his arm and pulled. "Not alone. Come on. We make for the stairs."
[ooc; backdated just before the split/lockdown]