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