[ 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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— 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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?