[ A "normal guy's" perspective. Silco wondered if he could be called that now, and there's a flicker of something, knowing that perhaps Tezca can sense and feel. The vague silhouette of, if not the fullness of it. Silco had little belief in destiny, after all. He'd never thought it for him, and given where he came from, that is not surprising. It's almost a little disbelieving at the thread of thought, vague though it is before he strangled it.

Silco had learned, there was no good in being confident over promises. ]

That is not unlike what it is. She was heavy in my hand, dense. Like there were multitudes within. I could see it, see her, the... size of what it was.

I had not appreciated what it was, to be a god. [ A mental shrug of his shoulders. ] How big you were.

[ That is because Silco was just a man. So infinitesimal comparatively, and he knew it. Felt it. ]

She burned like the sun in my hand. I held her in the one she cut off, you know. [ There's the impression, of dead flesh. ] No matter what she tried, I came back, and I had promised her, that I would kill her.

When I cut her off from everything, it was as if I were standing at the edge of a precipice, and falling into it.

[ Well. That might be for many other reasons than just killing her. ]

It felt good. To finally silence her.