Would you not? You are divine like me, you think in similar patterns. You put so much faith in your ability to protect me, you were going to dissipate me. And once I was dissipated, he was going to shatter me.
[ It is perfectly logical, to him. End the powerful enemy, rid the opposition of their leaders and mightiest and leave them scrambling to fill the void where once they stood. The thing of it is, Set takes more offense to the fact that it was Amos who came strolling up at Quetzalcoatl's side. His loathing of the man wars with her obvious compassion for him. The same compassion that Tezcatlipoca had explained was his brother's greatest asset and cruelest feature.
Her earnestness, however, bites at him. ] I am not asking you to deny him. Maybe you see something that I do not, that I refuse to see in the way that he refuses me. I do not care if you throw your empathy into the void in the hopes that you will fill it up, change it — just never, ever, ally with him against me. Not even if you are driven to Zenith, just —
[ He chokes there. Because he never demands anything like this, of anyone.
He never asks them to change who they visit, never demands that they stand with him over someone else. What others do with their relationships is on them, though once Hayame had tried to command him to slaughter Silco and Sebastian and in turn, he had commanded her to slaughter Amos Burton. Neither of them had, and that had been the line in the sand for them. He thought there was, at least. She still often lambasted him, even after he had explained to her why he did what he did. And it hurt, every time.
( Just for once he thinks, he wants someone to choose him above all else. Without his having to ask. Like he was worth something, more than the vortex of sin and evil and agony he had become. Osiris would have. Osiris would never have loved anyone more than him. ) Set is not easily hurt or injured, emotional and fragile as he is, but when it happens — it is always in the worst possible way. ]
Everything hurts. [ Quiet and hollow, he touches a hand to his chest. ] I should be able to rationalize this, like all other things that strike me... but, it hurts so much.
[ Quetzalcoatl’s responses are clear on her face as Set speaks. There’s an apology at the dissipation, a fierce refusal when he mentions shattering, then soft again. Softer still as she listens and he falters. More than anything, the way Set pauses and then speaks so quietly is a stake of ice to her heart. Quetzalcoatl loves everyone, but she does love Set differently. The mortals she loves receive the love of a god, warm and vivacious, but still with a distance that will never be bridged. They were beautiful and wonderful to her, but still temporary and tiny. They were no more than a single drop of water in an infinite sea. But another god—
With a sniffle of her own and a wipe at her face, Quetzalcoatl stands. It’s a bit slow, since if Set demands she still be bowed in apology, she’d do it again without question. But she holds her hands out to him with her palms up. It’s a gesture asking for his hands, but she’d be happier if he stepped closer so she could hug him. Her sincerity is something she always want to express through physical gestures, but this time she leaves it to Set to choose whether he wants them. ]
You don’t have to rationalize it. It hurts because I hurt you, yes? I didn’t mean to, because I didn’t know how much you hated Amos… But I still did. So, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I told you I’d protect you…
[ She thinks again of how he’d lashed out and compared her to Osiris, and it stings enough to make her frown a little more with the thought. Her eyes get wet again, but she doesn’t react to it—She’s just a bit (a lot) of a crybaby when it comes down to it. ]
I’ll always be in your corner, Set. Your friends are my friends, and your enemies are my enemies. It’s why I’ll punish Osiris in the way I would punish Cortés. I don’t know if what Amos is deserves that kind of punishment [ because uh that’s a lot ], but I love you more than I love him. Siempre.
[ —But another god was a different bond entirely. It was eternal, so often unchanging, because fate itself would spin the gods together. Just as Quetzalcoatl sees her rivalry with Tezcatlipoca as something that’s meant to be, she sees her oath of love and protection to the god of a foreign land in the same way. It would always be more than humanity or any other people that Quetzalcoatl took under her wing. ]
[ The reason Set avoids grudges with other immortals, even some of the long-of-life individuals, is because the elongated nature of such grudges becomes apocalyptic. Biblical in intensity and layered so deeply with nuance that it can, and will, create or recreate the world itself. What kind of grudges would be useful to hold onto, in Kenos? Even loathing someone like Amos is temporary. One day, the man will reach the end of his mortal lifespan and he will go. Set will recall him briefly, and forget about him afterwards. Few humans ( few mortals, indeed ) have ever touched him so thoroughly that he deigns to recall them.
( In another life, another time, he would cradle several Pharaohs within his heart — Sety Merenptah, Usermaatre Setepenre. )
When she rises, he steels himself not to retreat in any way from her. Not with a twitch or a flinch, his eyes narrowing defensive and heated as she wordlessly asks him for his touch. For contact, and he knows she is a demonstrative god. A god who loves humans, who safeguards their souls and looks upon them with infinite fondness — but, who is also as remote and divine as the deities that preceded his own birth. Ra had said that he and his siblings were corrupted, lost to the pleasures and perils of humanity, and he had felt so insulted and vilified for the things he had wanted. Family, love, connections that were useless to gods — he knows Quetzalcoatl somehow balances her humans with her overpowering divinity, and he is so deeply, deeply jealous of her.
He cannot balance his emotions against his divine mind, and it rattles at his seams so painfully. ]
I do not want you to punish him. [ Maybe to her, he can admit that. That what he feels towards Amos is not something he wants anyone else involved in; it's his, and it's Amos's. In an odd way, he is defensive ( protective ) of what strange, hostile thing links them. ] I do not want you to not love him, if that is what you want. I would never — I could never demand someone give up on what they want. Please, just... not him, against me. Never him.
[ I love you more than I love him. He doesn't know if he believes it. There really isn't anyone who has ever told him that, let alone proven it. ( He thinks, briefly, to the clutching hands of his kneeling nephew, his falcon-headed helm bowed pleading and submissive over Set's wrists: I don't want to lose you, Horus had said. Set doesn't know why he thinks of it in this moment. Why it matters. ) ]
I hate him, so much. He acts like he wants to be human, but he never really tries to be. Any time he has room to make a human choice, he concedes it to someone else's guidance. He calls himself a realist, but he just... hides behind arbitrary walls that terrify and hurt people, and then he throws up his hands and goes "well what can I do about it". Why do I have to be better, work harder to make up for all the pain I caused and was made to feel... and he can just, not?
[ When Set doesn’t accept the gesture, she at least lets her hands fall back to her side with a little nod that just says that she’s okay with that too. She’d want to hold him, of course, but she can also accept and understand that he’s not ready for that in return.
But she is a little surprised that Set is more understanding than she’d honestly expected. She does wonder if that’s Set not being honest for a moment but dismisses it. At least so far as she’s aware, Set has been honest with her, especially when it came to his feelings. Maybe even more honest than he’d like, in some ways. She feels that again with his last admission, and her sad expression instead turns sympathetic. ]
I don’t know.
[ She admits it gently, because when he explains it this way… She understands why Set resents Amos so much. It’s not fair or rational or anything he’d ever admit to Amos himself, but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Set has a gentler heart than he wants, and Amos has a colder heart than he— Well. She’s not sure if it’s want for him, not exactly. ]
I don’t know if he’s ever needed to, maybe… It’s something you’ve noticed about Zenites too, right? All of the ones I’ve talked to, they’re people whose worlds hurt them. And it’s not something I understand about humanity all that well, but I know that they just… think about things in whatever way they have to so they can survive. [ She laughs a note and shrugs. ] That’s something that’s Tezcatlipoca’s domain, though, not mine.
[ She’s not going to try and justify Amos to Set, though. She doesn’t know, in part. She doesn’t think it would matter in another. But Amos had called out for her when he was afraid, even if he hadn’t said as much. For a god of life that wanted nothing more than for people to live happy, beautiful lives, it’s something she couldn’t ignore, even if her want was an unattainable ideal with the imperfect worlds the gods had shaped.
Quetzalcoatl does take a little step closer, but she doesn’t reach out to him. It’s just a physical gesture to maybe strengthen her words. ]
Never him against you. And, um, I won’t interfere in your fights, save for making sure neither of you crushes the other. I swear it. [ There’s the weight of a divine oath in those serious words, but it softens as she returns to her gentler feelings. ] I’m so sorry I hurt you, Set. You’re my dear friend, and I always want to be the wind and the warmth to your desert. I’ll spend an eternity to try and make it up to you, if that’s what it takes.
"People whose worlds hurt them"? Zenites are the people whose worlds hurt them?
[ Set's tone dips, dangerously frosty. If anything, he is even more infuriated by those words; by the audacity of them, as if Quetzalcoatl can find something sympathetic in Zenith because, oh, their worlds hurt them. They're sad and only want themselves or their loved ones to survive. As if Set, standing before her, was not deeply injured by his own world. As if he was not torn to shreds and his loved ones hurt, his reputation shattered beyond repair. ]
Hayame's world uses her kind as slaves, hacking off their arms and breeding them like animals to control them. Byleth Eisner was stillborn and used as a vessel for a god as though nothing he could become would matter, he barely knows if he is real or not. Dimitri Blaiddyd's world is the ruins of war, and he the child of extreme violence and loss who seeks to learn peace. Liem Talbott's world encouraged him to despise his own blood and needs, so much so that he disregards them entirely and finds himself monstrous. Zenith's worlds hurt them? Zenith's!?
[ Now, he snarls. As she steps towards him, trying to reassure him, he is burning with loathing and disgust. In that moment, he is the antithesis of her pure love, he is the condemnation of her way of looking at things — and a staunch Meridian, who finds any forgiveness extended to Zenith because of their emotional pain a crime. As if his own pain was clearly more managed and less agonizing, just because he wanted to go back and not... survive, or escape it. ]
Are you a god, or not? Some people are not meant to survive their pain, Quetzalcoatl! Are you Meridian, or are you going to half-ass your role in the name of feeling sorry for people who will trample on the proper cycle of the world, condemning others because they cannot face their fate with dignity?
[ For a moment, all he can do is see Yima in Quetzalcoatl. Someone whose love is inconsiderate and blind to nuance, lacking structure or strength. It rattles him, causes him to tug back from her even as she seeks to approach. Were Zenith focused wholeheartedly on destroying their fate, he'd respect them more. But nearly every one of them is either Just Unsure, or trying to run away from reality. A bunch of vapid dreamers, who think they're being practical when really, they're just being idealistic. ]
[ She speaks up as soon as he throws her words back at her with such a cold tone, but rather than insist on interrupting, his passion bowls over hers, and she listens in silence. Her expression turns to another deep frown, because this lecture isn’t fair. What he implies by sharing these little stories isn’t what she meant at all. She’s a bit hurt that he would think she’s that blind, but it’s not as sharp as it could be. She understands how it’s something personal for him, and even if she’s wrong, she can’t help but think of it that way. Set gives examples of other Meri, but she just hears “my world hurt me”. Like she didn’t know that. Like it wasn’t something she’d held him so protectively for.
Meri worlds could be cruel. Of course they could. But they were something the Meri still wanted to fight for, even so. Even ugly as they were, Meri were willing to do everything to save them and all the lives in them. It’s why she bristles a bit when he asks her such an accusatory question, because trying to reach those broken people in Zenith and save those lives was surely her duty, but—
“Some people are not meant to survive their pain.”
—Set has reminded her of Tezcatlipoca before. It’s hard for him not to, since they share domains and even a similar appearance. But Quetzalcoatl had decided (maybe rashly), that even so, Set was different in some important ways to her brother. He cared about people more than Tezcatlipoca. He had softer, gentler parts of his heart. But that simple sentiment is the very core of where Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca diverge. Maybe she shouldn’t have put aside their similarities. Maybe, if things had been different, she could have chosen to strike Set from the sky too.
She doesn’t try and approach Set again, and her voice when she speaks is probably calmer than he’d expect. ]
I do feel sorry them. You aren’t wrong, Set. They’re sad to me because they’ve given up. They want to end all things because they’re selfish. It’s in the way that most mortal people are selfish, though. They only have their life and their experience, so they’d rather run away and protect themselves. It’s weak of them. My Azteca wouldn’t have accepted any of their hearts as proper sacrifice.
[ It’s the first time she’s spoken openly about the practice rather than laughing and avoiding it, but even if that level of sacrifice wasn’t something she personally accepted… There’s no doubt of its potency. Nor of the fact that this is a deep insult of character, so far as her culture goes. But her voice softens, gentle again. ]
…But I can’t abandon them, even so. If this were as straightforward as the end of a Sun, then I could annihilate them. Maybe that’s how I should think of it, but… They still have a chance at life, and I want to protect that for them, even if they won’t do it themselves.
[ She pauses, uncertain. She has a distant memory of facing a choice with such stakes before in the vague way that all Servants remember their deeds when summoned. Humanity was on the verge of extinction, and she’d pledged to help exterminate them… For the sake of giving them more time. One hundred deaths a day. One hundred revivals a day. She may not have that sort of power here in Kenos, but the stakes of that choice… ]
What should I do, Set?
[ She asks earnestly, not with the whine of affectionate crying, not by reaching out to him again. She’s serious, asking for advice from one god to another, as if the White Tezcatlipoca were asking the Black Tezcatlipoca. Not as the big sister to a little brother. ]
I do not think any of them should be allowed to flee their worlds. I think if they are aware there is a problem, decay or rot, they should be forced to return and face it. No Zenite should be allowed the chance to go to a new world when Meridian wins, just as Meridian will have no say in what they think could be "a better future".
That is the chance they will earn.
[ He's spiteful, at his core. Someone who was hurt so deeply, he had to hurt others; even now, he speaks so roughly because he cannot be soft. He was soft once, and it hadn't made him more worthy than anyone else to have his pain gentled, attended to. Quetzalcoatl had lost herself, and some part of him understands that; is fine with that, but electing Amos as her partner in that moment?
In defense, he condemns Zenith for their flight. He can only see it as flight, in the end. Why does he have to stand and atone for a world that hates him, that he will be forgotten by, and they get to choose another way? Why aren't mortals held to the standard he is? ( Because he has such unbridled power, he knows. He was made this way. ) The way Quetzalcoatl summarizes Zenith as unworthy in the eyes of her Azteca, though, pinches an aborted, miserable little sound from Set. A hiccough of pain, before he grinds it between his teeth and tries to shake the sentiment from his mind.
I know they are in pain. I know they are weak, and once... once, I would have thought even they were worthy of being protected and saved. But, I have to go home.
[ He says it, quietly. The fact is that — in that moment, all his anger towards Zenith is obvious in its source: he's envious, and wants to be among them. He wants to destroy what hurt him, save what he wants and cast off the rest; he understands Zenites more than anything else, and is on a path where he must fight to go back to a place that is imperfect and loathes him. What does he want Quetzalcoatl to do, though? His voice is small, as he buries his face in his hands and sighs out a ragged breath — ]
I need your help. I keep forgetting how to love them, Quetzalcoatl — I get so angry, and I just... I want to hurt them for no other reason than to see them cry and despair. They should not be abandoned, but I cannot... I cannot let them exist unchallenged, rotting away in their own minds, thinking their reprieve from reality can be extended forever.
We need to win. They still have a chance to change their fates with their own hands. Mortals are the only ones who can.
[ The sound makes her serious expression quiver, and it refills with that deep well of sympathy she has. It’s the sort of sound she doesn’t want anyone to have to make, but least of all Set. It’s present in her posture that she wants to go to him, but still, she stays. Because she feels that sound is her fault too. She hadn’t said it right if Set internalizes what she’d said, because she doesn’t see him as the same, but she’s not sure if she can find the right words to soothe him.
She can’t agree with his spite, after all. It’s just not something she feels… ever, really. The bitter, painful fates that Set wants to condemn Zenites to isn’t something she wants for them. It’s an area where they fundamentally disagree in that way where their inclinations were sometimes a matter of destiny more than personality. She wants the best for people, even if that’s not something they necessarily have earned or deserved. It’s not possible for truly everyone, she knows. It’s contradictory, but she still wants it.
…It’s a contradiction that hurts people. Where the realm of gods could easily exist in blacks and whites (at least in her pantheon), they were many more grays than they liked to acknowledge when they descended from the Heavens. ]
Well, they do make it hard to be loveable sometimes. [ a joke, but also not. silco. ] But… Of course I’ll help. I don’t know if we can save them, but I know for sure that we don’t have to leave them behind, you know?
[ There’s another question, though. One that’s more personal, because that envy and the pain with it cry out to her sharply. Maybe she’d overlooked it because Set was always so, so strong when he was facing people… Fearlessly dedicated to Meridian and challenging anyone that dared doubt them. But it was her fault for overlooking it all the same. She’d held him tightly once and sworn an oath, and though her question now is gentler than that, it’s still just as serious. ]
…What if I came with you when you went home?
[ It’s a simple question and just as earnest as asking what she should do. In this… She doesn’t know what Set would want, actually. But she knows that part of what would make his return anguish instead of glorious is the loneliness of it. It’s the loneliness that she’d felt from him where he’d given that confession of something horrible and something he’d had to hold onto by himself. ]
The Age of Gods is over in my world. Even if the world ends, there will never be a Sun after this one, so I’m not abandoning anything if I decide not to go back. I did my duty. [ blah blah blah type-moon mechanics I AM NOT GETTING INTO IT THO ] Is that something you'd like, maybe?
[ What? Silco? Hard to love? Set can't relate. He feels something genuine ( albeit, tenuous and built on reciprocity ) for the rotten little rat, after all. Silco might feel something in return for him, too. Not trust, not love, but respect. Mutual understanding. Something that he has a hard time feeling with just anyone, because his treatment of the other Shard-bearers is deeply varied and contingent on so many unique elements that few share. Quetzalcoatl and Byleth sit uniquely together, and once, Cassian Andor had been with them — individuals with heroic hearts, who wanted Set's happiness and safety.
She finds loving others to be worth the effort. Set can't see the point in expending his energy into understanding just anyone, as if they're worth his time and toil. Only a few find homes within him. He minds after all of them, but he can count on both hands those who he'd name as integral to his current history. The others are passing, they'll be forgotten in time. ( They have to be. ) Even Quetzalcoatl will return to her time and realm, and he will,
he will,
maybe he will make the journey, to the land of the Azteca across the sea? Or maybe — ]
What?
[ He looks up, beyond the tips of his fingers as her words register slowly inside of him. What if I came with you? What would it mean, if she did? ]
I. I have so much to do, when I return. I owe the world a heavy debt. Having you with me might — it might resemble an act of defiance, against the throne. A god like you is... [ Frighteningly large. Like Ra, like a grand creator that spans the eternal sky. ] I thought, you would have mortals from here who need you more.
[ That soft, shocked surprised is almost answer enough, and it makes her heart ache. He’d said as much, but still, she can see it clearly right now. He’s not used to people picking him above others. ]
Well… It could be complicated, yes!
[ She laughs a little sheepishly as she nods in agreement, because that’s easy to see even without knowing all of the details of just what Set would be returning to. A foreign god (heh) from far across the world suddenly showing up and declaring themselves a staunch ally to Set…? She can easily imagine any pantheon being on edge about that, especially one with her kind of power, since she assumes it would return to her when she left Kenos. So in a way, that almost makes the solution easy. ]
I could give up my Authority, I’m pretty sure. That would probably make me a little less scary to show up so suddenly! And whatever else tu familia might like to do to make sure that I’m not there to cause trouble, that would be fine with me!
[ She says it so easily and warmly that it would sound like she’s offering to give up something easy too, but it’s anything but. It’s giving up the vast majority of her divinity. She would be a god in name, but not in power. But for her, it does feel like an easier prospect than it may have… a long time ago, now. ]
And whatever you have to do, that’s okay too. I think…
[ She trails off, since what comes to mind is something she thinks is phrased in a way that could make Set mad. But ultimately, it’s what she feels. Her expression turns almost shy, because she wants him to know it’s something earnest and loving—there’s not the judgement that she worries he might hear. ]
I don’t think you should have to do it alone. So, you might need me more than any mortal might, yes?
[ Correction, Quetz. The only one who ever chose him above all else was Osiris. ]
— I could never do that.
[ Not for anyone. In fact, the mere thought of Quetzalcoatl giving up her Authority ( type moon phrase, w/e it resonates enough with set's idea of Divinity that it works ) makes him feel ill. Cold. Something ancient and terrified wakes within him, at the idea of her being powerless and bound to him in any way. He values freedom and movement, the ability to come and go with the winds, to change his shape and still be "himself" through it all. And he fears,
more than anything,
being forgotten. The sheer burning revulsion and terror of it that rises when she offers has his breath catching, the whites of his eyes a little larger, the dark of his iris thinning in — rejection, obviously. And fear. ]
You can't do that. You can't. Nothing about you should be forgotten, Quetzalcoatl! If you were to offer up your Authority, it'd be just like... just like being erased from the world we'd live in. I, no. Not a god like you. You're not like me.
[ It's then that he touches her, pressing his palms to her hands as if to shove her away, but holding her wrists instead in his firm grasp. ]
And you do not, you do not want to see me. [ In Egypt, atoning. Messy and painful. ] Because, I have to be forgotten by the men who worship me. I have to, erase myself from the world to make up for what I did to it. You'd be alone, once I do.
[ The rejection doesn’t surprise her, but the fear that comes with it does. She hadn’t known if this was even something he’d want, after all, because even if he’s lonely and hurting in her eyes, he’s still proud and independent. Like he’d said, her presence could cause problems, and he might not want that. But fear— That’s not something she would have guessed he’d feel at all.
He at least explains it rather than leave her confused, but the expression of that confusion turns back to a soft smile. It’s another one of those aspects where there’s a gap between what kinds of gods they are. Because to Quetzalcoatl, the prospect of being forgotten by the World doesn’t frighten her. It seems like a fair consequence of giving up her Authority. She would be giving her teōtl back to Tezcatlipoca, no less, but why wouldn’t she? She’d sworn an oath. She would protect Set in what ways she could, and she felt that as resolutely as the moment she’d decided to descend to Mictlan. No matter the difficulties, it was a duty she’d gladly bear for another.
…But naturally, this wasn’t as simple as descending to Mictlan. The destined feats of a hero god were something that was always meant to be. Trying to embrace Set with her love wasn’t so concrete. She has the hope for it, not knowing that her own fate was being written by a demon and its master. ]
It’s okay.
[ She says that first, warm and comforting, and though she can’t quite hold his hands back with how he has her wrists, she does lean down so that she can kiss some of his fingers gently. She’s so intensely physical with her feelings that she just has to do something, really… ]
It was just an idea! If it’s better if I don’t, then I won’t. I just mean it, you know? I love you, so I want to be the big sister that’s always on your side. When things are good, I’ll smile with you, and when they’re bad, I’ll embrace you. I want you to have someone like that so that you don't have to do everything on your own.
[ She nods, and her expression softens again in a way that’s a little imploring, because one part of what he says does worry her. ]
…But do you really have to be erased to make things up to your world? I’m not questioning atoning. But I don’t want you to be forgotten and erased either.
[ Her presence, with Authority intact, would constitute a direct act of war against the gods of Egypt. There was a foreigner that he traveled with, sly and obnoxious, whom had been pressured into submission by Ma'at — there was no reason Set, whose domains included foreign lands and their people, would rationally be able to accept Quetzalcoatl's presence in Egypt without also viewing it as an invasion. A danger to his home, and something that could trigger the criteria that would bypass his ability to atone and consign him directly to nonexistence.
Not to mention his deep, unsettling fears of her being erased and forgotten by her own people.
The terror grips him like a hand around the throat; he remembers Amos's words, in that moment. That it sounded, to him, like Set's greatest concern was being forgotten; it sickens him, to have been so readily seen by a man who had the object permanence of a worm and no desire to empathize with anyone. Just to fake it all, and turn on them like a monster when they failed to adhere to his criteria. Anyways. Amos hate aside. Quetzalcoatl says she wants to be,
the big sister that was always on his side. And Set wilts. ]
Isis — [ He half-cries his sister's name, pain shooting through him as he thinks of her face.
His resentment for her. His love, so savagely destroyed by her turning her back and him lashing out at her. ]
That is my atonement. I have to, return all the souls I abused to their rest and know all the pain I caused them. I have end the abuses of men I led to depravity — because I corrupted Egypt, Quetzalcoatl. I drove humans to madness, and the only way they... they get to be free, is if I am erased from history. I once — I once protected the land, and now, they will only remember me for my sins. My temples are gone. My name stricken from the annals, my good deeds and the prayers of little towns that once smiled at me and called me their guardian — they don't remember me. The only people who do are madmen, slavers and murderers and rapists.
[ He needs her to understand. ]
I have to stop existing, so they can never be inspired to such wickedness again.
[ Quetzalcoatl’s expression twists at that pain in his voice, but as he explains, it just turns confused over anything else. The story that Set explains is one he’s referred to a bit, but this is the first time hearing it together. She twists her hands together anxiously during the story, but by the time he finishes, she steps closer. Quetzalcoatl starts to reach out for his hands, but she changes her minds and reaches out to brush some of the hair out of his face instead. ]
Set…
[ She just says his name gently, because her reaction probably isn’t the one he’d expect. It’s not just her bias for Set at work, either. In her pantheon, the story he explains wouldn’t make sense. The gods were imperfect and the worlds they made were too, but corruption was still the problem of humans alone. The gods didn’t corrupt their lands the way that Set describes.
So, it’s unfair, she thinks.
She doesn’t deny that Set’s world works this way, but she thinks it’s deeply, deeply unfair that he had to bear such a burden. Even the gods of the Azteca who showed their love through sacrifice wouldn’t ask such a great thing. In fact, that was the point—it wasn’t asked. It was always something given voluntarily. There’s a lot she wants to say to that as a result, but as she withdraws her hand, it ends up just being a small question. ]
the most horrible and wonderful thing to have come into his life. She loves too much, without boundaries, and she looks at him like it's okay. Like somehow, in all of reality and time and vast consciousness, the things he is being punished for are things he shouldn't be held responsible for. It makes him feel like a god, a real one. It also makes him feel despair, deep and overwhelming as she strokes hair from his face and regards him in a way that his family would never.
I was made this way, he wants to remind her. Existence itself crafted him, and demanded he be its villain and sin-eater. Instead, his throat seizes and his voice hitches and he tries so hard to bare his teeth and can only say, impotent and longing: ] I want to go home. I want to feel safe again. I want to not be this! I want so much, and more than ANYTHING I want my BABY.
[ ]
— and, I will never get anything I want.
[ There is a deep, strangling magic in those words. A dark curse, spoken into existence by someone who'd loved him. Who bled hatefully to ensure he suffered, while he'd cried and begged to be saved. If he goes back to Egypt... he will never have Anubis. ]
[ She can’t help it how her heart jumps at the tone in his voice alone. It makes her eyes well up with tears too. It’s a mirror in the sense that her heart always aches for others when they’re sad, but she would have started crying regardless. She wants to help him so deeply, but she’s also not sure if she can. That feels unfair too, because even if she’s a god of humanity, surely she should be able to help other gods that need it… Yet that’s a much harder thing to do.
(And in the sky above, a little cloud starts to gather. Don’t mind that.)
It’s partially to stop herself from truly blubbering despite herself, but she does close that little distance so that she can wrap her arms fully around him. She’d wanted to do this since they parted in that stupid park, but this is different now, something bigger. It’s more like when she’d protectively held him in The Last Dance—all warmth and affection, but wanting so deeply to be able to cut away his pain, no matter how hard it was. ]
I’m sorry— [ He hiccoughs, and it’s an apology that’s probably for her own tears just as much as she feels the sorrow for his circumstances. She feels bad for crying when it’s not her situation to mourn, but her empathy runs deep for those she cares about. ]
I want your world to be kinder to you!
[ She says it vehemently and almost childishly, but that’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it? It’s the sentiment that it always comes down to when she talks to people in Kenos, she feels like. She’d told Silco something similar, and he’d loathed it, but that didn’t change her convictions and hopes for people. She’s a god of good that will always want a kind, loving world for its people, no matter whether they’re a human or a god. And for all of the problems and rivalries of her own pantheon… It didn’t seem to be anything compared to his. ]
Even if you’ve done bad things… Even if your followers are no good now, I don’t— I don’t think you should be denied everything because of it. There’s good in you. You deserve all of that and more, I think.
[ She gives him a tighter squeeze, just on the verge of uncomfortable, but it’s brief just as she says: ]
I’d give so much to be able to help free you from all of that.
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.
[ When he twists, she makes a little noise of sniffled out apology and pulls back, only for his hands to find her throat. She makes a noise of surprise, but when she places a hand on his wrist, it’s still gentle. She’s not worried about his violence, but it’s in the way she’s not really worried about anyone’s violence… Even if he were to dissipate her, she’d just be a little surprised. It’s hard to unnerve a god who doesn’t (and won’t) have a realistic sense of her own mortality. ]
I…
[ She’s confused again and concerned. He’s said so much here, and she’s worried about him, especially as his words get more despondent. Maybe he’s right, maybe she can’t promise him those things, but she’d still try, she wants to insist. He doesn’t have to give up on that hope, surely…
But her expression just falls a little further into one that’s soft and sad. She can guess at why he denies it, at least. He doesn’t want that hope, because if she can’t, then that has to be even worse, doesn’t it?
She gives his wrist a little squeeze of reassurance. ]
What do you need me to do?
[ ...So, she'd still try, she decides. She doesn't need to stress it or make a promise that she might not be able to keep. If that's what Set wants to avoid the disappointment, she could do that. ]
it's unforgivable, to ask of her. The words he's already choosing are so calculating, they're a cruelty to Quetzalcoatl's loving heart. Pure manipulation on the tongue of a trickster, a dark god that cries before her like something injured and claws at her warm heart. He'll never forgive himself for this, but he'll also do anything to keep his promise to Anubis.
The hand on her throat slackens a little, his thumb reaching up to the jade green piercing below her lip. The scalding heat of her soul, which he had slipped once from below Silco's heel and returned to the Tree. He leans closer to her, and presses his mouth to her Shard softly. Pleadingly, as he brings her other hand under the heavy gold collar about his neck and aligns her palm with his own Shard — deep red and unpolished, a fissure of pain above his heart. Like it had been carved out of him long ago. Iconic for a god of the Azteca, perhaps? ]
Highstorm has a leader that has overseen unchanging generations. For a Faction that touts change and progress as part of their anthem, they are certainly sedentary. I want to remove her from her seat of power. I am sure it is possible [ difficult, but possible ] and I need your light to power the weapon that will do it. The sun will be made to shine in the night — for...
[ He hates the words he says next, because he knows he is twisting her goodness into something conniving as he speaks. ]
We all have to go home. Even to worlds that hurt us, because those worlds can be changed. Zenites must be made to go back, because they can find happiness. You can show them that, right? Quetzalcoatl, god of warmth and humanity's guiding sun.
[ Quetzalcoatl doesn’t so much as flinch as he reaches up to touch her small, bright Shard, even after the violent gesture of his hands on her neck. It’s probably a little twist of the knife for Set’s guilt, because she trusts him completely. There’s no discomfort as he touches that fragile, crucial part of her, and she even smiles a little again as he places a kiss to it. She leans her head forward just a little so that her head can touch his, and there’s no resistance as he guides her hand. Her fingers are soft and gentle on his skin, and her palm is like a shield to his Shard in turn.
She’s weak to things like this. Manipulation and tricks will always work on her and easily, because her heart is earnest and open. Quetzalcoatl takes people at their word even knowing that it could be a lie because she always sees the best in people. Her optimism is unfaltering whether she’s considering the future or just people. It’s also her fate. She’s the rival of a trickster god, after all.
So, in one sense, Quetzalcoatl knows what Set is asking of her. In another, she has no idea. ]
…If we do that, things won’t be the same here. There won’t be peace between the cities anymore, yes?
[ And she knows he wants that as a god of war, but that’s not quite what she means. This would be gods stepping into mortal affairs and changing their fate. Striking out at Yima means committing to Meridian in a way that Quetzalcoatl has been reluctant to do because of how she still wants to be a loving hand extended to Zenites. But fundamentally, she believes in how Set puts it. A wretched world can be changed, if not by human hands, then by the gods that made them. Even if that meant annihilating what came before. ]
I can bring the fire of the sun to Highstorm. But it’ll scorch everything, not just Yima. [ Her words aren’t a rejection, just a warning. ] Is that what we want to do?
[ Like her, he intends to be a path for Zenites to take. Even if they cannot bathe in the light offered by Meridian, he stands as an eclipse and shadow for them to rest in — among the warmth, but not bathed in a full reminder of their pain. To strike at Highstorm, at Yima, so soundly will be to split from them in all formality; there will be no further excursions for him into the city without caution and guile. But, considering that the only Zenites left that he wants are John Gaius, Silco and Minegishi Gen — he can forsake the rest. ]
I understand that. Peace was never going to last, though. We have done our best to hold onto those we can, and if they want to be held onto... they will understand that the action we take is to prove ourselves to them. That we are serious about where we stand, and where they can belong.
[ He promised Silco and Gen that he would be a path back from Zenith. In some ways, he knows that the two of them believe in that and rely on him for that. He can think of no better way to assure them of his vow, the severity of it, than to make this move. For the other Zenites, who seem inclined to cling to Yima's skirts and place their full faith in her with no thought... or those who simply "do not trust" Meridian — well. He will simply be the bringer of terror and proof that their faith will crumble, or so he believes. ]
I intend to win, Quetzalcoatl. I cannot show them that I am worth believing in, if I am not decisive. Nor can Meridian prove their stance is the better, the stronger, if we are always responding and not leading. I am willing to hurt Zenites now, and soothe them later. And I am entirely willing to burn Highstorm, to rouse them from their endless stupor.
[ Quetzalcoatl closes her eyes and rests the weight of her head on his just a bit. This isn’t where she expected this conversation to end up at all, but in a way, it’s easier. This is the sort of thing that they were literally made for rather than navigating messy personal relationships. They’re probably both more comfortable here, even with the weight of what Set is planning.
She runs her fingers lightly along the skin above his Shard like it’s a motion meant to soothe him, but it’s probably just as much for herself. Her domains and duties could sometimes be a contradiction, because as a god of life, she reflexively recoils from the idea of using her Noble Phantasm so destructively… But it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t. ]
No… It wasn’t.
[ She sighs out the agreement, because of course she’s known that. What Meridian wants and with Zenith wants were too opposed. Their peace wasn’t meant to last as things got closer to the resolution. So, Set is right, isn’t he? If they can’t have peace, then they have to be something for Zenites to believe in. That’s what she’s been trying to be by warmly giving them her love and protection, but that’s not enough. They won’t let themselves yearn for a future, so she has to seize it for them. Then, when that time comes, it’s up to them what they do with it. ]
I can do it. We’ll let the sun’s light reach even the darkest parts of Highstorm. I can be the beacon, and you just make sure to take care of them in the shade, okay?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ It is perfectly logical, to him. End the powerful enemy, rid the opposition of their leaders and mightiest and leave them scrambling to fill the void where once they stood. The thing of it is, Set takes more offense to the fact that it was Amos who came strolling up at Quetzalcoatl's side. His loathing of the man wars with her obvious compassion for him. The same compassion that Tezcatlipoca had explained was his brother's greatest asset and cruelest feature.
Her earnestness, however, bites at him. ] I am not asking you to deny him. Maybe you see something that I do not, that I refuse to see in the way that he refuses me. I do not care if you throw your empathy into the void in the hopes that you will fill it up, change it — just never, ever, ally with him against me. Not even if you are driven to Zenith, just —
[ He chokes there. Because he never demands anything like this, of anyone.
He never asks them to change who they visit, never demands that they stand with him over someone else. What others do with their relationships is on them, though once Hayame had tried to command him to slaughter Silco and Sebastian and in turn, he had commanded her to slaughter Amos Burton. Neither of them had, and that had been the line in the sand for them. He thought there was, at least. She still often lambasted him, even after he had explained to her why he did what he did.
And it hurt, every time.( Just for once he thinks, he wants someone to choose him above all else. Without his having to ask. Like he was worth something, more than the vortex of sin and evil and agony he had become.
Osiris would have. Osiris would never have loved anyone more than him.) Set is not easily hurt or injured, emotional and fragile as he is, but when it happens — it is always in the worst possible way. ]Everything hurts. [ Quiet and hollow, he touches a hand to his chest. ] I should be able to rationalize this, like all other things that strike me... but, it hurts so much.
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With a sniffle of her own and a wipe at her face, Quetzalcoatl stands. It’s a bit slow, since if Set demands she still be bowed in apology, she’d do it again without question. But she holds her hands out to him with her palms up. It’s a gesture asking for his hands, but she’d be happier if he stepped closer so she could hug him. Her sincerity is something she always want to express through physical gestures, but this time she leaves it to Set to choose whether he wants them. ]
You don’t have to rationalize it. It hurts because I hurt you, yes? I didn’t mean to, because I didn’t know how much you hated Amos… But I still did. So, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, because I told you I’d protect you…
[ She thinks again of how he’d lashed out and compared her to Osiris, and it stings enough to make her frown a little more with the thought. Her eyes get wet again, but she doesn’t react to it—She’s just a bit (a lot) of a crybaby when it comes down to it. ]
I’ll always be in your corner, Set. Your friends are my friends, and your enemies are my enemies. It’s why I’ll punish Osiris in the way I would punish Cortés. I don’t know if what Amos is deserves that kind of punishment [ because uh that’s a lot ], but I love you more than I love him. Siempre.
[ —But another god was a different bond entirely. It was eternal, so often unchanging, because fate itself would spin the gods together. Just as Quetzalcoatl sees her rivalry with Tezcatlipoca as something that’s meant to be, she sees her oath of love and protection to the god of a foreign land in the same way. It would always be more than humanity or any other people that Quetzalcoatl took under her wing. ]
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( In another life, another time, he would cradle several Pharaohs within his heart — Sety Merenptah, Usermaatre Setepenre. )
When she rises, he steels himself not to retreat in any way from her. Not with a twitch or a flinch, his eyes narrowing defensive and heated as she wordlessly asks him for his touch. For contact, and he knows she is a demonstrative god. A god who loves humans, who safeguards their souls and looks upon them with infinite fondness — but, who is also as remote and divine as the deities that preceded his own birth. Ra had said that he and his siblings were corrupted, lost to the pleasures and perils of humanity, and he had felt so insulted and vilified for the things he had wanted. Family, love, connections that were useless to gods — he knows Quetzalcoatl somehow balances her humans with her overpowering divinity, and he is so deeply, deeply jealous of her.
He cannot balance his emotions against his divine mind, and it rattles at his seams so painfully. ]
I do not want you to punish him. [ Maybe to her, he can admit that. That what he feels towards Amos is not something he wants anyone else involved in; it's his, and it's Amos's. In an odd way, he is defensive ( protective ) of what strange, hostile thing links them. ] I do not want you to not love him, if that is what you want. I would never — I could never demand someone give up on what they want. Please, just... not him, against me. Never him.
[ I love you more than I love him. He doesn't know if he believes it. There really isn't anyone who has ever told him that, let alone proven it. ( He thinks, briefly, to the clutching hands of his kneeling nephew, his falcon-headed helm bowed pleading and submissive over Set's wrists: I don't want to lose you, Horus had said. Set doesn't know why he thinks of it in this moment. Why it matters. ) ]
I hate him, so much. He acts like he wants to be human, but he never really tries to be. Any time he has room to make a human choice, he concedes it to someone else's guidance. He calls himself a realist, but he just... hides behind arbitrary walls that terrify and hurt people, and then he throws up his hands and goes "well what can I do about it". Why do I have to be better, work harder to make up for all the pain I caused and was made to feel... and he can just, not?
[ Maybe that's the core of it, in the end. ]
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But she is a little surprised that Set is more understanding than she’d honestly expected. She does wonder if that’s Set not being honest for a moment but dismisses it. At least so far as she’s aware, Set has been honest with her, especially when it came to his feelings. Maybe even more honest than he’d like, in some ways. She feels that again with his last admission, and her sad expression instead turns sympathetic. ]
I don’t know.
[ She admits it gently, because when he explains it this way… She understands why Set resents Amos so much. It’s not fair or rational or anything he’d ever admit to Amos himself, but it doesn’t have to be. That’s the problem, isn’t it? Set has a gentler heart than he wants, and Amos has a colder heart than he— Well. She’s not sure if it’s want for him, not exactly. ]
I don’t know if he’s ever needed to, maybe… It’s something you’ve noticed about Zenites too, right? All of the ones I’ve talked to, they’re people whose worlds hurt them. And it’s not something I understand about humanity all that well, but I know that they just… think about things in whatever way they have to so they can survive. [ She laughs a note and shrugs. ] That’s something that’s Tezcatlipoca’s domain, though, not mine.
[ She’s not going to try and justify Amos to Set, though. She doesn’t know, in part. She doesn’t think it would matter in another. But Amos had called out for her when he was afraid, even if he hadn’t said as much. For a god of life that wanted nothing more than for people to live happy, beautiful lives, it’s something she couldn’t ignore, even if her want was an unattainable ideal with the imperfect worlds the gods had shaped.
Quetzalcoatl does take a little step closer, but she doesn’t reach out to him. It’s just a physical gesture to maybe strengthen her words. ]
Never him against you. And, um, I won’t interfere in your fights, save for making sure neither of you crushes the other. I swear it. [ There’s the weight of a divine oath in those serious words, but it softens as she returns to her gentler feelings. ] I’m so sorry I hurt you, Set. You’re my dear friend, and I always want to be the wind and the warmth to your desert. I’ll spend an eternity to try and make it up to you, if that’s what it takes.
cw violence of all kinds, victim blaming
[ Set's tone dips, dangerously frosty. If anything, he is even more infuriated by those words; by the audacity of them, as if Quetzalcoatl can find something sympathetic in Zenith because, oh, their worlds hurt them. They're sad and only want themselves or their loved ones to survive. As if Set, standing before her, was not deeply injured by his own world. As if he was not torn to shreds and his loved ones hurt, his reputation shattered beyond repair. ]
Hayame's world uses her kind as slaves, hacking off their arms and breeding them like animals to control them. Byleth Eisner was stillborn and used as a vessel for a god as though nothing he could become would matter, he barely knows if he is real or not. Dimitri Blaiddyd's world is the ruins of war, and he the child of extreme violence and loss who seeks to learn peace. Liem Talbott's world encouraged him to despise his own blood and needs, so much so that he disregards them entirely and finds himself monstrous. Zenith's worlds hurt them? Zenith's!?
[ Now, he snarls. As she steps towards him, trying to reassure him, he is burning with loathing and disgust. In that moment, he is the antithesis of her pure love, he is the condemnation of her way of looking at things — and a staunch Meridian, who finds any forgiveness extended to Zenith because of their emotional pain a crime. As if his own pain was clearly more managed and less agonizing, just because he wanted to go back and not... survive, or escape it. ]
Are you a god, or not? Some people are not meant to survive their pain, Quetzalcoatl! Are you Meridian, or are you going to half-ass your role in the name of feeling sorry for people who will trample on the proper cycle of the world, condemning others because they cannot face their fate with dignity?
[ For a moment, all he can do is see Yima in Quetzalcoatl. Someone whose love is inconsiderate and blind to nuance, lacking structure or strength. It rattles him, causes him to tug back from her even as she seeks to approach. Were Zenith focused wholeheartedly on destroying their fate, he'd respect them more. But nearly every one of them is either Just Unsure, or trying to run away from reality. A bunch of vapid dreamers, who think they're being practical when really, they're just being idealistic. ]
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[ She speaks up as soon as he throws her words back at her with such a cold tone, but rather than insist on interrupting, his passion bowls over hers, and she listens in silence. Her expression turns to another deep frown, because this lecture isn’t fair. What he implies by sharing these little stories isn’t what she meant at all. She’s a bit hurt that he would think she’s that blind, but it’s not as sharp as it could be. She understands how it’s something personal for him, and even if she’s wrong, she can’t help but think of it that way. Set gives examples of other Meri, but she just hears “my world hurt me”. Like she didn’t know that. Like it wasn’t something she’d held him so protectively for.
Meri worlds could be cruel. Of course they could. But they were something the Meri still wanted to fight for, even so. Even ugly as they were, Meri were willing to do everything to save them and all the lives in them. It’s why she bristles a bit when he asks her such an accusatory question, because trying to reach those broken people in Zenith and save those lives was surely her duty, but—
“Some people are not meant to survive their pain.”
—Set has reminded her of Tezcatlipoca before. It’s hard for him not to, since they share domains and even a similar appearance. But Quetzalcoatl had decided (maybe rashly), that even so, Set was different in some important ways to her brother. He cared about people more than Tezcatlipoca. He had softer, gentler parts of his heart. But that simple sentiment is the very core of where Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca diverge. Maybe she shouldn’t have put aside their similarities. Maybe, if things had been different, she could have chosen to strike Set from the sky too.
She doesn’t try and approach Set again, and her voice when she speaks is probably calmer than he’d expect. ]
I do feel sorry them. You aren’t wrong, Set. They’re sad to me because they’ve given up. They want to end all things because they’re selfish. It’s in the way that most mortal people are selfish, though. They only have their life and their experience, so they’d rather run away and protect themselves. It’s weak of them. My Azteca wouldn’t have accepted any of their hearts as proper sacrifice.
[ It’s the first time she’s spoken openly about the practice rather than laughing and avoiding it, but even if that level of sacrifice wasn’t something she personally accepted… There’s no doubt of its potency. Nor of the fact that this is a deep insult of character, so far as her culture goes. But her voice softens, gentle again. ]
…But I can’t abandon them, even so. If this were as straightforward as the end of a Sun, then I could annihilate them. Maybe that’s how I should think of it, but… They still have a chance at life, and I want to protect that for them, even if they won’t do it themselves.
[ She pauses, uncertain. She has a distant memory of facing a choice with such stakes before in the vague way that all Servants remember their deeds when summoned. Humanity was on the verge of extinction, and she’d pledged to help exterminate them… For the sake of giving them more time. One hundred deaths a day. One hundred revivals a day. She may not have that sort of power here in Kenos, but the stakes of that choice… ]
What should I do, Set?
[ She asks earnestly, not with the whine of affectionate crying, not by reaching out to him again. She’s serious, asking for advice from one god to another, as if the White Tezcatlipoca were asking the Black Tezcatlipoca. Not as the big sister to a little brother. ]
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I do not think any of them should be allowed to flee their worlds. I think if they are aware there is a problem, decay or rot, they should be forced to return and face it. No Zenite should be allowed the chance to go to a new world when Meridian wins, just as Meridian will have no say in what they think could be "a better future".
That is the chance they will earn.
[ He's spiteful, at his core. Someone who was hurt so deeply, he had to hurt others; even now, he speaks so roughly because he cannot be soft. He was soft once, and it hadn't made him more worthy than anyone else to have his pain gentled, attended to. Quetzalcoatl had lost herself, and some part of him understands that; is fine with that, but electing Amos as her partner in that moment?
In defense, he condemns Zenith for their flight. He can only see it as flight, in the end. Why does he have to stand and atone for a world that hates him, that he will be forgotten by, and they get to choose another way? Why aren't mortals held to the standard he is? ( Because he has such unbridled power, he knows. He was made this way. ) The way Quetzalcoatl summarizes Zenith as unworthy in the eyes of her Azteca, though, pinches an aborted, miserable little sound from Set. A hiccough of pain, before he grinds it between his teeth and tries to shake the sentiment from his mind.
I know they are in pain. I know they are weak, and once... once, I would have thought even they were worthy of being protected and saved. But, I have to go home.
[ He says it, quietly. The fact is that — in that moment, all his anger towards Zenith is obvious in its source: he's envious, and wants to be among them. He wants to destroy what hurt him, save what he wants and cast off the rest; he understands Zenites more than anything else, and is on a path where he must fight to go back to a place that is imperfect and loathes him. What does he want Quetzalcoatl to do, though? His voice is small, as he buries his face in his hands and sighs out a ragged breath — ]
I need your help. I keep forgetting how to love them, Quetzalcoatl — I get so angry, and I just... I want to hurt them for no other reason than to see them cry and despair. They should not be abandoned, but I cannot... I cannot let them exist unchallenged, rotting away in their own minds, thinking their reprieve from reality can be extended forever.
We need to win. They still have a chance to change their fates with their own hands. Mortals are the only ones who can.
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She can’t agree with his spite, after all. It’s just not something she feels… ever, really. The bitter, painful fates that Set wants to condemn Zenites to isn’t something she wants for them. It’s an area where they fundamentally disagree in that way where their inclinations were sometimes a matter of destiny more than personality. She wants the best for people, even if that’s not something they necessarily have earned or deserved. It’s not possible for truly everyone, she knows. It’s contradictory, but she still wants it.
…It’s a contradiction that hurts people. Where the realm of gods could easily exist in blacks and whites (at least in her pantheon), they were many more grays than they liked to acknowledge when they descended from the Heavens. ]
Well, they do make it hard to be loveable sometimes. [ a joke, but also not. silco. ] But… Of course I’ll help. I don’t know if we can save them, but I know for sure that we don’t have to leave them behind, you know?
[ There’s another question, though. One that’s more personal, because that envy and the pain with it cry out to her sharply. Maybe she’d overlooked it because Set was always so, so strong when he was facing people… Fearlessly dedicated to Meridian and challenging anyone that dared doubt them. But it was her fault for overlooking it all the same. She’d held him tightly once and sworn an oath, and though her question now is gentler than that, it’s still just as serious. ]
…What if I came with you when you went home?
[ It’s a simple question and just as earnest as asking what she should do. In this… She doesn’t know what Set would want, actually. But she knows that part of what would make his return anguish instead of glorious is the loneliness of it. It’s the loneliness that she’d felt from him where he’d given that confession of something horrible and something he’d had to hold onto by himself. ]
The Age of Gods is over in my world. Even if the world ends, there will never be a Sun after this one, so I’m not abandoning anything if I decide not to go back. I did my duty. [ blah blah blah type-moon mechanics I AM NOT GETTING INTO IT THO ] Is that something you'd like, maybe?
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She finds loving others to be worth the effort. Set can't see the point in expending his energy into understanding just anyone, as if they're worth his time and toil. Only a few find homes within him. He minds after all of them, but he can count on both hands those who he'd name as integral to his current history. The others are passing, they'll be forgotten in time. ( They have to be. ) Even Quetzalcoatl will return to her time and realm, and he will,
he will,
maybe he will make the journey, to the land of the Azteca across the sea? Or maybe — ]
What?
[ He looks up, beyond the tips of his fingers as her words register slowly inside of him. What if I came with you? What would it mean, if she did? ]
I. I have so much to do, when I return. I owe the world a heavy debt. Having you with me might — it might resemble an act of defiance, against the throne. A god like you is... [ Frighteningly large. Like Ra, like a grand creator that spans the eternal sky. ] I thought, you would have mortals from here who need you more.
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Well… It could be complicated, yes!
[ She laughs a little sheepishly as she nods in agreement, because that’s easy to see even without knowing all of the details of just what Set would be returning to. A foreign god (heh) from far across the world suddenly showing up and declaring themselves a staunch ally to Set…? She can easily imagine any pantheon being on edge about that, especially one with her kind of power, since she assumes it would return to her when she left Kenos. So in a way, that almost makes the solution easy. ]
I could give up my Authority, I’m pretty sure. That would probably make me a little less scary to show up so suddenly! And whatever else tu familia might like to do to make sure that I’m not there to cause trouble, that would be fine with me!
[ She says it so easily and warmly that it would sound like she’s offering to give up something easy too, but it’s anything but. It’s giving up the vast majority of her divinity. She would be a god in name, but not in power. But for her, it does feel like an easier prospect than it may have… a long time ago, now. ]
And whatever you have to do, that’s okay too. I think…
[ She trails off, since what comes to mind is something she thinks is phrased in a way that could make Set mad. But ultimately, it’s what she feels. Her expression turns almost shy, because she wants him to know it’s something earnest and loving—there’s not the judgement that she worries he might hear. ]
I don’t think you should have to do it alone. So, you might need me more than any mortal might, yes?
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— I could never do that.
[ Not for anyone. In fact, the mere thought of Quetzalcoatl giving up her Authority ( type moon phrase, w/e it resonates enough with set's idea of Divinity that it works ) makes him feel ill. Cold. Something ancient and terrified wakes within him, at the idea of her being powerless and bound to him in any way. He values freedom and movement, the ability to come and go with the winds, to change his shape and still be "himself" through it all. And he fears,
more than anything,
being forgotten. The sheer burning revulsion and terror of it that rises when she offers has his breath catching, the whites of his eyes a little larger, the dark of his iris thinning in — rejection, obviously. And fear. ]
You can't do that. You can't. Nothing about you should be forgotten, Quetzalcoatl! If you were to offer up your Authority, it'd be just like... just like being erased from the world we'd live in. I, no. Not a god like you. You're not like me.
[ It's then that he touches her, pressing his palms to her hands as if to shove her away, but holding her wrists instead in his firm grasp. ]
And you do not, you do not want to see me. [ In Egypt, atoning. Messy and painful. ] Because, I have to be forgotten by the men who worship me. I have to, erase myself from the world to make up for what I did to it. You'd be alone, once I do.
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He at least explains it rather than leave her confused, but the expression of that confusion turns back to a soft smile. It’s another one of those aspects where there’s a gap between what kinds of gods they are. Because to Quetzalcoatl, the prospect of being forgotten by the World doesn’t frighten her. It seems like a fair consequence of giving up her Authority. She would be giving her teōtl back to Tezcatlipoca, no less, but why wouldn’t she? She’d sworn an oath. She would protect Set in what ways she could, and she felt that as resolutely as the moment she’d decided to descend to Mictlan. No matter the difficulties, it was a duty she’d gladly bear for another.
…But naturally, this wasn’t as simple as descending to Mictlan. The destined feats of a hero god were something that was always meant to be. Trying to embrace Set with her love wasn’t so concrete. She has the hope for it, not knowing that her own fate was being written by a demon and its master. ]
It’s okay.
[ She says that first, warm and comforting, and though she can’t quite hold his hands back with how he has her wrists, she does lean down so that she can kiss some of his fingers gently. She’s so intensely physical with her feelings that she just has to do something, really… ]
It was just an idea! If it’s better if I don’t, then I won’t. I just mean it, you know? I love you, so I want to be the big sister that’s always on your side. When things are good, I’ll smile with you, and when they’re bad, I’ll embrace you. I want you to have someone like that so that you don't have to do everything on your own.
[ She nods, and her expression softens again in a way that’s a little imploring, because one part of what he says does worry her. ]
…But do you really have to be erased to make things up to your world? I’m not questioning atoning. But I don’t want you to be forgotten and erased either.
cw ennead yk??
Not to mention his deep, unsettling fears of her being erased and forgotten by her own people.
The terror grips him like a hand around the throat; he remembers Amos's words, in that moment. That it sounded, to him, like Set's greatest concern was being forgotten; it sickens him, to have been so readily seen by a man who had the object permanence of a worm and no desire to empathize with anyone. Just to fake it all, and turn on them like a monster when they failed to adhere to his criteria. Anyways. Amos hate aside. Quetzalcoatl says she wants to be,
the big sister that was always on his side. And Set wilts. ]
Isis — [ He half-cries his sister's name, pain shooting through him as he thinks of her face.
His resentment for her. His love, so savagely destroyed by her turning her back and him lashing out at her. ]
That is my atonement. I have to, return all the souls I abused to their rest and know all the pain I caused them. I have end the abuses of men I led to depravity — because I corrupted Egypt, Quetzalcoatl. I drove humans to madness, and the only way they... they get to be free, is if I am erased from history. I once — I once protected the land, and now, they will only remember me for my sins. My temples are gone. My name stricken from the annals, my good deeds and the prayers of little towns that once smiled at me and called me their guardian — they don't remember me. The only people who do are madmen, slavers and murderers and rapists.
[ He needs her to understand. ]
I have to stop existing, so they can never be inspired to such wickedness again.
WAUGH
Set…
[ She just says his name gently, because her reaction probably isn’t the one he’d expect. It’s not just her bias for Set at work, either. In her pantheon, the story he explains wouldn’t make sense. The gods were imperfect and the worlds they made were too, but corruption was still the problem of humans alone. The gods didn’t corrupt their lands the way that Set describes.
So, it’s unfair, she thinks.
She doesn’t deny that Set’s world works this way, but she thinks it’s deeply, deeply unfair that he had to bear such a burden. Even the gods of the Azteca who showed their love through sacrifice wouldn’t ask such a great thing. In fact, that was the point—it wasn’t asked. It was always something given voluntarily. There’s a lot she wants to say to that as a result, but as she withdraws her hand, it ends up just being a small question. ]
Ey, but... Is that what you want?
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the most horrible and wonderful thing to have come into his life. She loves too much, without boundaries, and she looks at him like it's okay. Like somehow, in all of reality and time and vast consciousness, the things he is being punished for are things he shouldn't be held responsible for. It makes him feel like a god, a real one. It also makes him feel despair, deep and overwhelming as she strokes hair from his face and regards him in a way that his family would never.
I was made this way, he wants to remind her. Existence itself crafted him, and demanded he be its villain and sin-eater. Instead, his throat seizes and his voice hitches and he tries so hard to bare his teeth and can only say, impotent and longing: ] I want to go home. I want to feel safe again. I want to not be this! I want so much, and more than ANYTHING I want my BABY.
[
— and, I will never get anything I want.
[ There is a deep, strangling magic in those words. A dark curse, spoken into existence by someone who'd loved him. Who bled hatefully to ensure he suffered, while he'd cried and begged to be saved. If he goes back to Egypt... he will never have Anubis. ]
WAUGHS AGAIN?????????
(And in the sky above, a little cloud starts to gather. Don’t mind that.)
It’s partially to stop herself from truly blubbering despite herself, but she does close that little distance so that she can wrap her arms fully around him. She’d wanted to do this since they parted in that stupid park, but this is different now, something bigger. It’s more like when she’d protectively held him in The Last Dance—all warmth and affection, but wanting so deeply to be able to cut away his pain, no matter how hard it was. ]
I’m sorry— [ He hiccoughs, and it’s an apology that’s probably for her own tears just as much as she feels the sorrow for his circumstances. She feels bad for crying when it’s not her situation to mourn, but her empathy runs deep for those she cares about. ]
I want your world to be kinder to you!
[ She says it vehemently and almost childishly, but that’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it? It’s the sentiment that it always comes down to when she talks to people in Kenos, she feels like. She’d told Silco something similar, and he’d loathed it, but that didn’t change her convictions and hopes for people. She’s a god of good that will always want a kind, loving world for its people, no matter whether they’re a human or a god. And for all of the problems and rivalries of her own pantheon… It didn’t seem to be anything compared to his. ]
Even if you’ve done bad things… Even if your followers are no good now, I don’t— I don’t think you should be denied everything because of it. There’s good in you. You deserve all of that and more, I think.
[ She gives him a tighter squeeze, just on the verge of uncomfortable, but it’s brief just as she says: ]
I’d give so much to be able to help free you from all of that.
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[ 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.
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I…
[ She’s confused again and concerned. He’s said so much here, and she’s worried about him, especially as his words get more despondent. Maybe he’s right, maybe she can’t promise him those things, but she’d still try, she wants to insist. He doesn’t have to give up on that hope, surely…
But her expression just falls a little further into one that’s soft and sad. She can guess at why he denies it, at least. He doesn’t want that hope, because if she can’t, then that has to be even worse, doesn’t it?
She gives his wrist a little squeeze of reassurance. ]
What do you need me to do?
[ ...So, she'd still try, she decides. She doesn't need to stress it or make a promise that she might not be able to keep. If that's what Set wants to avoid the disappointment, she could do that. ]
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what he is going to do —
it's unforgivable, to ask of her. The words he's already choosing are so calculating, they're a cruelty to Quetzalcoatl's loving heart. Pure manipulation on the tongue of a trickster, a dark god that cries before her like something injured and claws at her warm heart. He'll never forgive himself for this, but he'll also do anything to keep his promise to Anubis.
The hand on her throat slackens a little, his thumb reaching up to the jade green piercing below her lip. The scalding heat of her soul, which he had slipped once from below Silco's heel and returned to the Tree. He leans closer to her, and presses his mouth to her Shard softly. Pleadingly, as he brings her other hand under the heavy gold collar about his neck and aligns her palm with his own Shard — deep red and unpolished, a fissure of pain above his heart. Like it had been carved out of him long ago. Iconic for a god of the Azteca, perhaps? ]
Highstorm has a leader that has overseen unchanging generations. For a Faction that touts change and progress as part of their anthem, they are certainly sedentary. I want to remove her from her seat of power. I am sure it is possible [ difficult, but possible ] and I need your light to power the weapon that will do it. The sun will be made to shine in the night — for...
[ He hates the words he says next, because he knows he is twisting her goodness into something conniving as he speaks. ]
We all have to go home. Even to worlds that hurt us, because those worlds can be changed. Zenites must be made to go back, because they can find happiness. You can show them that, right? Quetzalcoatl, god of warmth and humanity's guiding sun.
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She’s weak to things like this. Manipulation and tricks will always work on her and easily, because her heart is earnest and open. Quetzalcoatl takes people at their word even knowing that it could be a lie because she always sees the best in people. Her optimism is unfaltering whether she’s considering the future or just people. It’s also her fate. She’s the rival of a trickster god, after all.
So, in one sense, Quetzalcoatl knows what Set is asking of her. In another, she has no idea. ]
…If we do that, things won’t be the same here. There won’t be peace between the cities anymore, yes?
[ And she knows he wants that as a god of war, but that’s not quite what she means. This would be gods stepping into mortal affairs and changing their fate. Striking out at Yima means committing to Meridian in a way that Quetzalcoatl has been reluctant to do because of how she still wants to be a loving hand extended to Zenites. But fundamentally, she believes in how Set puts it. A wretched world can be changed, if not by human hands, then by the gods that made them. Even if that meant annihilating what came before. ]
I can bring the fire of the sun to Highstorm. But it’ll scorch everything, not just Yima. [ Her words aren’t a rejection, just a warning. ] Is that what we want to do?
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I understand that. Peace was never going to last, though. We have done our best to hold onto those we can, and if they want to be held onto... they will understand that the action we take is to prove ourselves to them. That we are serious about where we stand, and where they can belong.
[ He promised Silco and Gen that he would be a path back from Zenith. In some ways, he knows that the two of them believe in that and rely on him for that. He can think of no better way to assure them of his vow, the severity of it, than to make this move. For the other Zenites, who seem inclined to cling to Yima's skirts and place their full faith in her with no thought... or those who simply "do not trust" Meridian — well. He will simply be the bringer of terror and proof that their faith will crumble, or so he believes. ]
I intend to win, Quetzalcoatl. I cannot show them that I am worth believing in, if I am not decisive. Nor can Meridian prove their stance is the better, the stronger, if we are always responding and not leading. I am willing to hurt Zenites now, and soothe them later. And I am entirely willing to burn Highstorm, to rouse them from their endless stupor.
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She runs her fingers lightly along the skin above his Shard like it’s a motion meant to soothe him, but it’s probably just as much for herself. Her domains and duties could sometimes be a contradiction, because as a god of life, she reflexively recoils from the idea of using her Noble Phantasm so destructively… But it wasn’t as if she wouldn’t. ]
No… It wasn’t.
[ She sighs out the agreement, because of course she’s known that. What Meridian wants and with Zenith wants were too opposed. Their peace wasn’t meant to last as things got closer to the resolution. So, Set is right, isn’t he? If they can’t have peace, then they have to be something for Zenites to believe in. That’s what she’s been trying to be by warmly giving them her love and protection, but that’s not enough. They won’t let themselves yearn for a future, so she has to seize it for them. Then, when that time comes, it’s up to them what they do with it. ]
I can do it. We’ll let the sun’s light reach even the darkest parts of Highstorm. I can be the beacon, and you just make sure to take care of them in the shade, okay?