It won't be. It never could be, not to me — and I have to live with that.
[ Gods were never children, not really. Not his generation, even though he and Isis had been able to raise their offspring as if they were; he cannot remember being held in his mother's arms, looked at by his father with pride. His siblings had loved him, though — the youngest of the four, tenderly loved by his best friend and loved by his wife and respected by his brother. And then, all of them were exposed as liars and monsters. Right now, he wants to be a child.
He wants to bawl about the injustice of his world, about being made the way he was — for evil, for pain, for loss and mistreatment. The world did not make him so it could be kind to one more existence. It made him because someone needed to exist so it could unburden its cruelty. ]
I cannot dream of a kinder world for me. I could let it die, though. I could leave it dead and take the thing I want most to some other place. But, I saw Osiris come through the Tree and... and she held him. She embraced him. If Lady Yima is timeless and sees so much, then she must know what he did to me — and she would give him love anyways.
[ In her arms, he is deeply uncomfortable. Being hugged right now as his mind reels and his hatred for Yima and disappointment in Zenith grows day-by-day is like being held down, controlled. He squirms in Quetzalcoatl's arms and reaches for her throat, claws and teeth coming to bare even as his voice trembles and his tears flow. ]
— you cannot promise me tomorrow. You cannot promise me a future. You can promise me the here-and-now, though. You can promise to help me strike a blow against Zenith. Against the Lady Yima.
no subject
[ Gods were never children, not really. Not his generation, even though he and Isis had been able to raise their offspring as if they were; he cannot remember being held in his mother's arms, looked at by his father with pride. His siblings had loved him, though — the youngest of the four, tenderly loved by his best friend and loved by his wife and respected by his brother. And then, all of them were exposed as liars and monsters. Right now, he wants to be a child.
He wants to bawl about the injustice of his world, about being made the way he was — for evil, for pain, for loss and mistreatment. The world did not make him so it could be kind to one more existence. It made him because someone needed to exist so it could unburden its cruelty. ]
I cannot dream of a kinder world for me. I could let it die, though. I could leave it dead and take the thing I want most to some other place. But, I saw Osiris come through the Tree and... and she held him. She embraced him. If Lady Yima is timeless and sees so much, then she must know what he did to me — and she would give him love anyways.
[ In her arms, he is deeply uncomfortable. Being hugged right now as his mind reels and his hatred for Yima and disappointment in Zenith grows day-by-day is like being held down, controlled. He squirms in Quetzalcoatl's arms and reaches for her throat, claws and teeth coming to bare even as his voice trembles and his tears flow. ]
— you cannot promise me tomorrow. You cannot promise me a future. You can promise me the here-and-now, though. You can promise to help me strike a blow against Zenith. Against the Lady Yima.