[Liem has heard and read a number of creation stories before, and he listens with patient interest to Quetzalcoatl’s, short and unembellished though it is. Though it bears little resemblance to the story of how Golarion was made, he supposes it’s not totally dissimilar. Evidently the battling of giant monsters is a recurring theme in some creation mythologies… though, since he’s hearing this one straight from the source, perhaps mythology isn’t even really the right term.]
That does make sense. I can think of very few major Divinities from my world that never warred against other powers. Even the goddess of love and beauty fought bitterly with her own brother.
[There’s a bit more to it than just sibling rivalry in that case, but nonetheless, his point stands that even the meekest and least violent of gods needs to be skilled enough to defend their interests at times.]
Did you have to fight after you’d finished making the world, as well?
[ Quetzalcoatl nods in understanding, even clicking her tongue a little too in irritation. As it turns out, she can sympathsize with this other goddess, since it answers Liem’s question nicely… ]
Ay, maybe not on so big of a scale, but sí, Tezcatlipoca and I fight all the time! We only teamed up for the Fifth Sun because we kind of had to! There’s not much point in gods if you don’t have a world to overlook, right?
[ It was absolutely a one-time thing only. Even if a few Suns had managed to cool off their tempers from sabotaging each other, they were still rivals at best. There’s something to it where it’s probably fated, since their personalities and domains are so fundamentally opposed… But it also makes it annoying that she’s technically an aspect of his. At least she’d managed to distinguish herself as her own identity unlike Huitzilopochtli… But she waves a hand dismissively as she continues. ]
But, no, Tezcatlipoca is a lot like Set, de hecho, but if Set didn’t have anything cute about him! [ …Is cute the right word for it? It’s the one she’s picked, anyways. ] He’s the worst, just a troublemaker and a problem, no matter when or where! He’s the god of conflict, so I guess that’s what he’s supposed to do, but he still takes it too far, you know? It’s his fault that my Azteca have a, um, weird reputation in history, you know!
[Liem nods along to Quetz’s explanation; of course, all gods need worshippers. Even most evil and lawless gods understand the need to keep some amount of peace with the other Divinities, lest their warring entirely wipe out the world that they all watch over, and the faithful who live there. So, her brother was quarrelsome and difficult… by her standards, at least. Which, when he thinks about Set, could actually mean a lot more than it might sound like at first, especially if this Tezcatlipoca is worse.
Or, less cute? It’s a very Quetz choice of descriptors, yet somehow Liem feels like he knows exactly what she means. But then, if he didn’t agree that Set was at least a little bit endearing, he probably wouldn’t be sitting with her next to the pod containing his slumbering, reforming body. It’s not like Set’s domains are remotely complimentary with Abadar’s, unlike the god(dess) sitting next to him.]
Then we are surely fortunate to have you here with us, instead of him.
[One troublemaking god of conflict is enough for this world, actually. Liem firmly believes this.]
If I may ask, what do you mean by a “weird reputation” in history?
Sí, for sure! Tezcatlipoca would absolutely be Zenith too and for no real good reason.
[ She huffs, since knowing her brother, he’d say something like “what, and give one side a huge advantage?” or “this war needs more casualties, so we’re up again, Birdie”. Ugh…
However, her sour expression is interrupted by Liem’s completely fair question, but she definitely looks sheepish. It’s a little embarrassing, honestly! The Aztecs had a bit of a reputation, and it was earned, but not because of her. She loves her people unconditionally, sure…. But it sure would be nice if there wasn’t that particular association with her too! ]
Oh, well… It’s how they would worship, yes! Because of how we made the world, the Azteca always wanted to express their gratefulness for how difficult it was for us… There’s symbolism in it too, but… Well, we would receive sacrifices. Mine were all smaller things, though! I couldn’t bear to have the more intense things, so things like piercing themselves with a cactus spine or maybe a butterfly or hummingbird on a holiday, but…
[ She sighs and shakes her head ]
Well, there were a lot of human sacrifices. Tezcatlipoca would receive, um, fresh human hearts, for one. And that’s what my Azteca got to be known for, you know! None of the amazing stuff they did! Just the bloody stuff!
[Liem definitely has a visible moment of realization as Quetz sheepishly explains what she means by that weird reputation. That kind of worship is… well, yes. It’s on the more intense side of the spectrum. Even though Taldor’s history included its own fair share of bloody endeavours and practices, some of which still continued even into the present era, human sacrifice would still be shocking by their standards, and probably by the standards of many cultures in the Inner Sea Region.
He thinks that perhaps being a priest of Quetzalcoatl was very different from being a priest of Abadar, even if her sacrifices were small.]
I’ve been meaning to ask — in the “Modern Era” in your world, do the Azteca no longer live and worship there?
[The way she would speak of them sometimes, talking about how they were known in history, and what people of the Modern Era took from their culture, makes him think that perhaps something happened to them. It seems strange to him; as someone who hails from what is considered to be the oldest city in all of Avistan, he can’t really conceive of how different Taldor would be if its foundational people were not still living there.]
[ As realization comes to him, Quetzalcoatl nods a little more, almost shy and apologetic in her motions. It’s the strange thing about being a Servant and a god, honestly. Because of how the former worked and how it exposed often ancient people to the wider world, it also made it harder to keep the almost stubborn confidence of the latter, especially for her. As the Throne gave her understanding past Mesoamerica, it made it harder for her to confidently defend a practice that she had never liked all that much anyways… The knowledge of how it colored her people in history even stung a little.
However, that sheepishness does drop as Liem asks another question. She pauses with a little ah, and just with how her own expression shifts, it’s clear. This is a difficult subject. Her smile falters, but it settles again, though it seems forced. ]
…Mm. Not so many. Not anymore.
[ Where do you even start to explain…? She looks down at Liem’s handkerchief and turns it over in her hands, folding and unfolding it as she considers it for a few moments. In a way, it’s easy to explain. But the easy explanation also sets her heart on fire and fills her with bitter, vicious anger. She thinks Liem would understand because she thinks anyone would understand… But that’s a hatred that she can’t indulge in. She knows it would warp her into something else. ]
There are people that still worship us out there, but they’ve had to hold tight to their traditions and hide them away for generations now. And I love the descendants of my Azteca still—Even if they don’t worship me, they still carry my blood, so I’ll always love them. It’s not their fault.
[ She feels that’s important to say first, because that’s the thing she’s clung to. Nothing lasts forever, and a principal part of their own view of the universe was that very prospect. One empire fell, but from it came countries that were beautiful all on their own, and they made great, beautiful things that her Azteca couldn’t even dream of. But when things end, it’s supposed to be something that the gods could understand too. War between neighboring peoples, an earthquake, even a great, impossible meteor.
Not a mortal man from a faraway land.
Quetzalcoatl abruptly stops toying with the handkerchief, instead holding it tight in her hands. ]
A foreign army so far across the sea that I'd never heard of them came and conquered the Azteca. To them, my people were savages.
[ Behind that smile and the simple words, there’s more anguish than she can express. Her people may not have been perfect, but no one was. They certainly didn’t deserve what the Spanish brought to them. She’d watched a whole culture die out so fast that she could scarcely believe it. Disease, cruelty, subjugation, evangelization—All of it brought the Azteca and every other surrounding tribe to their knees. And when her people cried out for their gods to save them, she couldn’t. The Age of Gods had ended. Never again could the Divine set foot on the Earth as they truly were, even to save their beloved people.
Her grip turns white-knuckled, but still, she’s careful to not tear the fabric all the same. She can’t get into the details and maybe doesn’t want to. So, her last little comment is deceptively simple too. ]
[The quiet with which Liem listens to the god’s brief explanation goes beyond just attentiveness. Her grief and her suppressed anger weighs heavy in the air despite her smile; he isn’t able to return it, even to pretend.
He too had been thinking perhaps her people had been conquered or pushed out by a rival civilization, or had vanished from the world as the Azlanti had: smote from the sky by a meteor that had plunged the world into centuries of darkness. For an entire people’s culture to be ground up and spat out by a country from across a distant sea—]
Yes; I can.
[A country such as Taldor did not get to be so old, so large, or so wealthy without a great deal of bloodshed. All Taldans educated enough to know their history had been told of the empire’s glorious expansion campaigns, led by its numerous Armies of Exploration. Although the empire had fractured long before even Liem was born, Taldane was spoken so widely across Avistan that it was the dominant language as far west as the coast of the Arcadian Ocean.
In Taldor, this was painted as a triumph. The old days of the empire were so glorified that even in the present day, there were those who wished for their return — enough to plunge the country back into war, all for the chance to bring Taldor’s “wayward colonies” back into the fold.]
I cannot fathom what it is like, to be in your position and know such a thing.
[ She considers it in silence for a few moments that’s uncharacteristically dour for her. It’s a quiet that’s almost heavy because she’s partially not sure what to say either. She can’t think of a way to explain it, or at least not well. Like Liem can’t fathom what it’s like to be divine and to still know tragedy, she has trouble imagining herself as a mortal and perceiving the fullness of the loss.
In a way, mortals aren’t meant to. They have small lives and small scopes compared to the divine, and it’s a good thing, in her opinion. It lets them live more freely. They don’t fully bear the burdens of what time alone will bring, the cycle of beginnings and ends that will never stop and cannot be stopped, no matter how much even a god wishes to do so.
She twirls a bracelet of gold and jade around her wrist idly, just to have something to do with her hands and for something for her gaze to focus on. ]
If there was one thing I wished that people better understood about gods, it’s that we aren’t all powerful. We can do big, amazing things! But a lot of our power and our work comes before people even exist. Once the world is made, we’re guardians, and it’s up to people to guide the world. We can provide help, but it’s for big things or to help people with knowledge of natural things. When it comes to conflicts between the people themselves… We don’t interfere. Even if I wanted to, more than anything else, I’m still a guardian. I can’t fight the battles between people for them.
[ And that’s part of the hard part to explain. Anyone would ask “why not”, and she can’t give an answer that’s satisfying. She simply can’t, because that’s what it meant to be a god. It was no more possible for her than it was for a human to fly. ]
But it’s… sad. I have all the power in the world, enough to make and unmake the world, but that doesn’t matter when it’s something slow and deliberate like a country over the sea coming to steal from our land and our people. Wiping away invaders means wiping away our people too. So… You just have to watch and hope that your people are strong enough to bear it.
[ She laughs a little, but it’s soft. ]
So, it’s ironic, yes? Even a god can feel powerless in the face of that.
[Perhaps Liem is better suited than most to understand Quetzalcoatl’s lament about not being all powerful, given his role as a priest in a world that also had many different gods. Certainly the gods were said to have achieved impossible wonders in the age before sapient beings inhabited Golarion, but in all Avistan’s recorded history, it was rare for the gods to act directly upon the world. There are limits to what even the gods can get away with, he knows. So they touch the world in innumerable small ways, in the hope that those small touches will be enough to work their will.
But of course, he cannot truly relate, no matter how much he might sympathize. The power and understanding of the divine will always ultimately be beyond him.]
I’d thought the powerlessness of being here might be difficult for you and Set, but I suppose that feeling is not unfamiliar to you.
[The feeling of not having all the answers, of being unable to save everyone you might wish to, of being a pawn in some grander game. Since meeting Kenos’s own resident divinities, he’s been surprised to learn that even gods can suffer these things.]
That is, I think, the sort of thing those committed to Zenith would struggle to understand. How you could have that knowledge of your people’s fate, and still fight to save the world just as it is.
[ At least as the topic shifts away from the specifics of how the Azteca fell, it’s enough for Quetzalcoatl’s smile to warm back up again. It’s clearly something that she’s deeply sad about, but it’s also an old pain at this point. She’d raged and mourned centuries ago, but she had come to love the culture that had been born after. She’d never forgive the Spanish or Cortez for what they did, but she did love México and its people. ]
Mm, I bet it’s probably harder for Set. For me it’s… [ She trails off as she considers explaining that she’s not really a god at the moment, she’s a Servant and that’s different, but with a little laugh, she waves her hand dismissively. She’s tried, but the explanation just seems to confuse people more, so she stays vague. ] Well, it’s like you said. It’s not unfamiliar.
[ She stops fidgeting with her bracelet at this point, though she sits back to lean against Set’s cocoon more with a sigh. ]
It’s why I don’t blame Zenith as much as I thought I might when I got here, though. After talking to some of them… I can see why they’d want to abandon their worlds, yes. It’s not something everyone can do, fighting for a place that you know is full of bad things. It’s why I’ll just fight harder on their behalf, I decided.
[Liem isn’t sorry to escape another explanation of Quetzalcoatl’s weird circumstances as a summoned aspect or servant or whatever else. Despite feeling reasonably confident that he understands the gist of what she’d previously told him on the subject, the specifics still make his head spin a little bit, and he’s content to leave his current level of understanding as is.
Like Quetz, he leans against the cocoon where Set’s reforming body sleeps. He wonders if any hint of their presence reaches him during his dreaming, and if the company is at all a balm to the loneliness that seems to plague the red-haired god.]
I understand it. When I was in Taldor, I spent much of my time looking for bad things — to correct, to contain, to scrub out. There’s no end to a job like that. That’s why I went to Zenith; I thought, maybe the world didn’t have to be that way.
[His expression is sober as he thinks about this — but then, he glances over at Quetz and smiles thoughtfully.]
But not everyone’s life is like that. My calling has always been something I pursued so that other people wouldn’t have to, so they can do honest work and come home to their families. It’s not really fair to give up on those people, is it?
ykw theyre both leaning on the Pod™ it's slimetime
[ As Liem presses up along the cocoon, it seems as though the combined weight of their bodies leaves a dent in the surface — only for a split to form right between them, where all the vines and substance within have pressed up along the interior of the pod. It ruptures like an overripe fruit, immediately sluicing down between the two of them as a pale arm shoves its way out through the gap. The dark lines of the Savant's spoke-wheel mark upon the back of the hand make it a little more obvious, that it belongs to Set.
( The fact that Quetzalcoatl's ehēcacōzcatl necklace is wound around the wrist too, might also help. ) ]
[ Quetzalcoatl’s smile is soft and fond as Liem explains. Of course it is. It’s a conviction she deeply admires, as surely almost any god would. In fact, she does think briefly that Abadar is very lucky to have Liem as a follower—She hopes that he really looks after Liem!
She opens her mouth to respond, but as there’s the soft sound of the rupture between them, it’s quickly gone. She breathes out the first noise of a surprised ¿qué?, but that’s also just as quick to turn into a squawked out noise of surprise. It’s just like Set to be violent about it!!
(…As if her own rebirth wasn’t also terrifyingly violent to Mordred and Gray, don’t worry about that.)
She would naturally help whoever was inside regardless, but the ehēcacōzcatl make this unmistakable. There’s not even time to process that into fondness, since even though half of her is gooped by sap as Set starts to emerge, she’s quick to stand and to dig her fingers underneath the rupture and start to pull it back to allow for more room. ]
[The nice, peaceful moment between them is interrupted abruptly when the cocoon surface right between them splits and spills a rush of sap-like fluid. Liem flinches back with a noise of startled disgust, but it’s too late to keep the half of him nearer the opening from getting thoroughly drenched. It isn’t until he’s already half-risen and kneeling at the edge of the soggy, mossy puddle that he registers the pale arm with it’s dark Savant marking.]
Ugh, [he mutters, straightening slightly so he can dig his fingers into the other side of the split and tear it wider. Why are these things so wet inside? He’s going to have to walk back home like this! It’s almost as bad as if he’d been the one soaking in the pod himself.
Still, his irritation at his sudden drenching is quickly overridden by relief that Set is emerging back into the world of the living. Even a very wet and sticky, trouble-making Set is a significant improvement from a silent green cocoon.]
[ — honestly, he doesn't know what he expects, as he comes to. But, to find anyone there waiting is not chief among them.
The vines that encircle him as he sags from the pod fray from far too many places upon him; each spot he had driven a weapon, they wither and fall from as he feels the cocoon give way under wrenching hands. Hears the muffled sound of familiar voices. A vine falls from his throat, and he can still feel the dull ache lingering. Whatever had been done to him to dissipate, it was numerous in nature and violent.
He sags out of the cocoon, hips still stuck inside, and weakly lifts his head to look up through soggy, red hair at the pair helping him out. There is — abject disorientation, almost disbelief, to find Liem and Quetzalcoatl there, and then there is a flicker of satisfaction. Hehehe, get gooped on, you two. He rasps, hoarse and thin: ] — oh. Boo?
[ As soon as Set looks up towards them, Quetzalcoatl’s eyes are already filling up with tears. It’s probably not much of a surprise with just how earnest and open she is with everything, but it’s also the only warning that Set gets before she throws her arms around his shoulders tightly to hug him. Sticky and all. She makes one loud sound of crying out that’s a mixture of deep relief and just a little bit of upset annoyance, but it’s mostly the first. ]
Eres un idiota, but I’m so glad to see you!! Set!!
[ It’s a true “WAAA” kind of cry too as she holds him and just openly, unashamedly wails. ]
[Had Liem expected to find Set’s cocoon so close to the time of his emergence, he would have brought a towel or something, to address the sticky sap that is now slopped all over all three of them (but still mostly Set). All they have on-hand is the handkerchief that he already gave Quetz, which is nowhere near big enough to deal with an entire person’s worth of gooey mess. He was… not thinking ahead, clearly.
As the sun god throws her arms around Set’s emerging torso, Liem remains kneeling where he is, letting Quetz deliver hugs and tears and insults for the both of them. It’s for the best, considering he is not an especially demonstrative man. He doesn’t feel the need to turn this into a wet group hug, even if he is glad to again see Set living and whole.]
You gave us a little scare, [he says, an afterthought to Quetz’s wailed admonishment-slash-welcome.] We didn’t know where you’d gone.
[ Everything hurts, courtesy of his own choices that lead him to dissipate in the first place. Wielding an arsenal against oneself left its mark, the bone-deep exhaustion within him that has him unable to fight back when Quetzalcoatl throws her arms around him and begins to wail. Sap and all, she "WAA'S" her heart out and he seems — well, too tired to resist being snatched into her arms.
The position does let him peer over her bicep towards Liem, looking wrung out and slightly disoriented by the whole thing. His brow knits, eyes narrowing. ]
So, what? You both sat around and... waited? For me?
[ Honestly, that CANNOT be what happened. They probably just happened upon a pod and decided to hedge their bets. ]
[ As Set settles against her, there is a moment when she gives his cheek a quick, fond little kiss. It’s exactly the sort that could be expected from a big sister being reunited with a younger sibling after a long absence, even though it really hadn’t been long at all. But she’d worried, of course. She’d worried in a way that she wouldn’t mention in front of Liem, because it was Set’s dark, tragic story, and she wouldn’t breathe a word of it. But of course when she’d found him at the Last Dance so recently, so raw and open, she couldn’t help but be deeply concerned about him.
Maybe she’d tell him the honest answer another time. Or, more likely, she’d forget about it now that he’s back. At least what she says is also true, though it’s not the main reason at all. ]
Of course—!! Voryn disappeared so recently, I was worried you might have gone missing too! So… Coming to sit here was all I could think of!!
[ Because unlike Liem, she hadn’t actually known that Set was here, but… That little hope had been better than the idea of mourning someone dear to her come and gone. So, she’s relieved! Relieved enough to not fully process what he adds on at the end as she hiccup-cries into his shoulder… He gets to live a little longer before being killed again ]
[While Quetz might be too distraught to pick up on what Set had said right away, Liem blinks, and then frowns at the incredulous-sounding pronouncement. All went as planned, says the man currently leaning half out of his rebirth pod, still wet with its sap. There is no one else here save for the three of them, and neither Liem nor Quetz had known what had happened to Set to begin with. He had spoken with others who also had no idea where the god had disappeared off to. Who planted his shard here, supposedly at his behest?]
I knew of no such plan, [he says, his voice as dry as the desert itself.] Hayame simply contacted me, saying you had disappeared, and when my search spread to the Tree, my magic brought me here.
[He punctuates this last word by patting the verdant pod still in the process of disgorging Set like a ripe pea. Though his delivery is patient, frustration lurks behind his rather-too-composed expression. Set had worried them for days about this, and for what?]
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That does make sense. I can think of very few major Divinities from my world that never warred against other powers. Even the goddess of love and beauty fought bitterly with her own brother.
[There’s a bit more to it than just sibling rivalry in that case, but nonetheless, his point stands that even the meekest and least violent of gods needs to be skilled enough to defend their interests at times.]
Did you have to fight after you’d finished making the world, as well?
no subject
Ay, maybe not on so big of a scale, but sí, Tezcatlipoca and I fight all the time! We only teamed up for the Fifth Sun because we kind of had to! There’s not much point in gods if you don’t have a world to overlook, right?
[ It was absolutely a one-time thing only. Even if a few Suns had managed to cool off their tempers from sabotaging each other, they were still rivals at best. There’s something to it where it’s probably fated, since their personalities and domains are so fundamentally opposed… But it also makes it annoying that she’s technically an aspect of his. At least she’d managed to distinguish herself as her own identity unlike Huitzilopochtli… But she waves a hand dismissively as she continues. ]
But, no, Tezcatlipoca is a lot like Set, de hecho, but if Set didn’t have anything cute about him! [ …Is cute the right word for it? It’s the one she’s picked, anyways. ] He’s the worst, just a troublemaker and a problem, no matter when or where! He’s the god of conflict, so I guess that’s what he’s supposed to do, but he still takes it too far, you know? It’s his fault that my Azteca have a, um, weird reputation in history, you know!
no subject
Or, less cute? It’s a very Quetz choice of descriptors, yet somehow Liem feels like he knows exactly what she means. But then, if he didn’t agree that Set was at least a little bit endearing, he probably wouldn’t be sitting with her next to the pod containing his slumbering, reforming body. It’s not like Set’s domains are remotely complimentary with Abadar’s, unlike the god(dess) sitting next to him.]
Then we are surely fortunate to have you here with us, instead of him.
[One troublemaking god of conflict is enough for this world, actually. Liem firmly believes this.]
If I may ask, what do you mean by a “weird reputation” in history?
no subject
[ She huffs, since knowing her brother, he’d say something like “what, and give one side a huge advantage?” or “this war needs more casualties, so we’re up again, Birdie”. Ugh…
However, her sour expression is interrupted by Liem’s completely fair question, but she definitely looks sheepish. It’s a little embarrassing, honestly! The Aztecs had a bit of a reputation, and it was earned, but not because of her. She loves her people unconditionally, sure…. But it sure would be nice if there wasn’t that particular association with her too! ]
Oh, well… It’s how they would worship, yes! Because of how we made the world, the Azteca always wanted to express their gratefulness for how difficult it was for us… There’s symbolism in it too, but… Well, we would receive sacrifices. Mine were all smaller things, though! I couldn’t bear to have the more intense things, so things like piercing themselves with a cactus spine or maybe a butterfly or hummingbird on a holiday, but…
[ She sighs and shakes her head ]
Well, there were a lot of human sacrifices. Tezcatlipoca would receive, um, fresh human hearts, for one. And that’s what my Azteca got to be known for, you know! None of the amazing stuff they did! Just the bloody stuff!
no subject
He thinks that perhaps being a priest of Quetzalcoatl was very different from being a priest of Abadar, even if her sacrifices were small.]
I’ve been meaning to ask — in the “Modern Era” in your world, do the Azteca no longer live and worship there?
[The way she would speak of them sometimes, talking about how they were known in history, and what people of the Modern Era took from their culture, makes him think that perhaps something happened to them. It seems strange to him; as someone who hails from what is considered to be the oldest city in all of Avistan, he can’t really conceive of how different Taldor would be if its foundational people were not still living there.]
cw: colonialism, fr,
However, that sheepishness does drop as Liem asks another question. She pauses with a little ah, and just with how her own expression shifts, it’s clear. This is a difficult subject. Her smile falters, but it settles again, though it seems forced. ]
…Mm. Not so many. Not anymore.
[ Where do you even start to explain…? She looks down at Liem’s handkerchief and turns it over in her hands, folding and unfolding it as she considers it for a few moments. In a way, it’s easy to explain. But the easy explanation also sets her heart on fire and fills her with bitter, vicious anger. She thinks Liem would understand because she thinks anyone would understand… But that’s a hatred that she can’t indulge in. She knows it would warp her into something else. ]
There are people that still worship us out there, but they’ve had to hold tight to their traditions and hide them away for generations now. And I love the descendants of my Azteca still—Even if they don’t worship me, they still carry my blood, so I’ll always love them. It’s not their fault.
[ She feels that’s important to say first, because that’s the thing she’s clung to. Nothing lasts forever, and a principal part of their own view of the universe was that very prospect. One empire fell, but from it came countries that were beautiful all on their own, and they made great, beautiful things that her Azteca couldn’t even dream of. But when things end, it’s supposed to be something that the gods could understand too. War between neighboring peoples, an earthquake, even a great, impossible meteor.
Not a mortal man from a faraway land.
Quetzalcoatl abruptly stops toying with the handkerchief, instead holding it tight in her hands. ]
A foreign army so far across the sea that I'd never heard of them came and conquered the Azteca. To them, my people were savages.
[ Behind that smile and the simple words, there’s more anguish than she can express. Her people may not have been perfect, but no one was. They certainly didn’t deserve what the Spanish brought to them. She’d watched a whole culture die out so fast that she could scarcely believe it. Disease, cruelty, subjugation, evangelization—All of it brought the Azteca and every other surrounding tribe to their knees. And when her people cried out for their gods to save them, she couldn’t. The Age of Gods had ended. Never again could the Divine set foot on the Earth as they truly were, even to save their beloved people.
Her grip turns white-knuckled, but still, she’s careful to not tear the fabric all the same. She can’t get into the details and maybe doesn’t want to. So, her last little comment is deceptively simple too. ]
So, you can guess what happened, yes?
no subject
He too had been thinking perhaps her people had been conquered or pushed out by a rival civilization, or had vanished from the world as the Azlanti had: smote from the sky by a meteor that had plunged the world into centuries of darkness. For an entire people’s culture to be ground up and spat out by a country from across a distant sea—]
Yes; I can.
[A country such as Taldor did not get to be so old, so large, or so wealthy without a great deal of bloodshed. All Taldans educated enough to know their history had been told of the empire’s glorious expansion campaigns, led by its numerous Armies of Exploration. Although the empire had fractured long before even Liem was born, Taldane was spoken so widely across Avistan that it was the dominant language as far west as the coast of the Arcadian Ocean.
In Taldor, this was painted as a triumph. The old days of the empire were so glorified that even in the present day, there were those who wished for their return — enough to plunge the country back into war, all for the chance to bring Taldor’s “wayward colonies” back into the fold.]
I cannot fathom what it is like, to be in your position and know such a thing.
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In a way, mortals aren’t meant to. They have small lives and small scopes compared to the divine, and it’s a good thing, in her opinion. It lets them live more freely. They don’t fully bear the burdens of what time alone will bring, the cycle of beginnings and ends that will never stop and cannot be stopped, no matter how much even a god wishes to do so.
She twirls a bracelet of gold and jade around her wrist idly, just to have something to do with her hands and for something for her gaze to focus on. ]
If there was one thing I wished that people better understood about gods, it’s that we aren’t all powerful. We can do big, amazing things! But a lot of our power and our work comes before people even exist. Once the world is made, we’re guardians, and it’s up to people to guide the world. We can provide help, but it’s for big things or to help people with knowledge of natural things. When it comes to conflicts between the people themselves… We don’t interfere. Even if I wanted to, more than anything else, I’m still a guardian. I can’t fight the battles between people for them.
[ And that’s part of the hard part to explain. Anyone would ask “why not”, and she can’t give an answer that’s satisfying. She simply can’t, because that’s what it meant to be a god. It was no more possible for her than it was for a human to fly. ]
But it’s… sad. I have all the power in the world, enough to make and unmake the world, but that doesn’t matter when it’s something slow and deliberate like a country over the sea coming to steal from our land and our people. Wiping away invaders means wiping away our people too. So… You just have to watch and hope that your people are strong enough to bear it.
[ She laughs a little, but it’s soft. ]
So, it’s ironic, yes? Even a god can feel powerless in the face of that.
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But of course, he cannot truly relate, no matter how much he might sympathize. The power and understanding of the divine will always ultimately be beyond him.]
I’d thought the powerlessness of being here might be difficult for you and Set, but I suppose that feeling is not unfamiliar to you.
[The feeling of not having all the answers, of being unable to save everyone you might wish to, of being a pawn in some grander game. Since meeting Kenos’s own resident divinities, he’s been surprised to learn that even gods can suffer these things.]
That is, I think, the sort of thing those committed to Zenith would struggle to understand. How you could have that knowledge of your people’s fate, and still fight to save the world just as it is.
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Mm, I bet it’s probably harder for Set. For me it’s… [ She trails off as she considers explaining that she’s not really a god at the moment, she’s a Servant and that’s different, but with a little laugh, she waves her hand dismissively. She’s tried, but the explanation just seems to confuse people more, so she stays vague. ] Well, it’s like you said. It’s not unfamiliar.
[ She stops fidgeting with her bracelet at this point, though she sits back to lean against Set’s cocoon more with a sigh. ]
It’s why I don’t blame Zenith as much as I thought I might when I got here, though. After talking to some of them… I can see why they’d want to abandon their worlds, yes. It’s not something everyone can do, fighting for a place that you know is full of bad things. It’s why I’ll just fight harder on their behalf, I decided.
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Like Quetz, he leans against the cocoon where Set’s reforming body sleeps. He wonders if any hint of their presence reaches him during his dreaming, and if the company is at all a balm to the loneliness that seems to plague the red-haired god.]
I understand it. When I was in Taldor, I spent much of my time looking for bad things — to correct, to contain, to scrub out. There’s no end to a job like that. That’s why I went to Zenith; I thought, maybe the world didn’t have to be that way.
[His expression is sober as he thinks about this — but then, he glances over at Quetz and smiles thoughtfully.]
But not everyone’s life is like that. My calling has always been something I pursued so that other people wouldn’t have to, so they can do honest work and come home to their families. It’s not really fair to give up on those people, is it?
ykw theyre both leaning on the Pod™ it's slimetime
( The fact that Quetzalcoatl's ehēcacōzcatl necklace is wound around the wrist too, might also help. ) ]
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She opens her mouth to respond, but as there’s the soft sound of the rupture between them, it’s quickly gone. She breathes out the first noise of a surprised ¿qué?, but that’s also just as quick to turn into a squawked out noise of surprise. It’s just like Set to be violent about it!!
(…As if her own rebirth wasn’t also terrifyingly violent to Mordred and Gray, don’t worry about that.)
She would naturally help whoever was inside regardless, but the ehēcacōzcatl make this unmistakable. There’s not even time to process that into fondness, since even though half of her is gooped by sap as Set starts to emerge, she’s quick to stand and to dig her fingers underneath the rupture and start to pull it back to allow for more room. ]
Ay, un problemático always, huh!
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Ugh, [he mutters, straightening slightly so he can dig his fingers into the other side of the split and tear it wider. Why are these things so wet inside? He’s going to have to walk back home like this! It’s almost as bad as if he’d been the one soaking in the pod himself.
Still, his irritation at his sudden drenching is quickly overridden by relief that Set is emerging back into the world of the living. Even a very wet and sticky, trouble-making Set is a significant improvement from a silent green cocoon.]
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The vines that encircle him as he sags from the pod fray from far too many places upon him; each spot he had driven a weapon, they wither and fall from as he feels the cocoon give way under wrenching hands. Hears the muffled sound of familiar voices. A vine falls from his throat, and he can still feel the dull ache lingering. Whatever had been done to him to dissipate, it was numerous in nature and violent.
He sags out of the cocoon, hips still stuck inside, and weakly lifts his head to look up through soggy, red hair at the pair helping him out. There is — abject disorientation, almost disbelief, to find Liem and Quetzalcoatl there, and then there is a flicker of satisfaction. Hehehe, get gooped on, you two. He rasps, hoarse and thin: ] — oh. Boo?
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Eres un idiota, but I’m so glad to see you!! Set!!
[ It’s a true “WAAA” kind of cry too as she holds him and just openly, unashamedly wails. ]
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As the sun god throws her arms around Set’s emerging torso, Liem remains kneeling where he is, letting Quetz deliver hugs and tears and insults for the both of them. It’s for the best, considering he is not an especially demonstrative man. He doesn’t feel the need to turn this into a wet group hug, even if he is glad to again see Set living and whole.]
You gave us a little scare, [he says, an afterthought to Quetz’s wailed admonishment-slash-welcome.] We didn’t know where you’d gone.
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The position does let him peer over her bicep towards Liem, looking wrung out and slightly disoriented by the whole thing. His brow knits, eyes narrowing. ]
So, what? You both sat around and... waited? For me?
[ Honestly, that CANNOT be what happened. They probably just happened upon a pod and decided to hedge their bets. ]
I knew what I was doing, all went as planned.
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Maybe she’d tell him the honest answer another time. Or, more likely, she’d forget about it now that he’s back. At least what she says is also true, though it’s not the main reason at all. ]
Of course—!! Voryn disappeared so recently, I was worried you might have gone missing too! So… Coming to sit here was all I could think of!!
[ Because unlike Liem, she hadn’t actually known that Set was here, but… That little hope had been better than the idea of mourning someone dear to her come and gone. So, she’s relieved! Relieved enough to not fully process what he adds on at the end as she hiccup-cries into his shoulder…
He gets to live a little longer before being killed again]no subject
I knew of no such plan, [he says, his voice as dry as the desert itself.] Hayame simply contacted me, saying you had disappeared, and when my search spread to the Tree, my magic brought me here.
[He punctuates this last word by patting the verdant pod still in the process of disgorging Set like a ripe pea. Though his delivery is patient, frustration lurks behind his rather-too-composed expression. Set had worried them for days about this, and for what?]