[ It’s a little puzzle piece fitting together about who Silco is as a person, but his expression stays calm and neutral. He only shows a benevolent, enigmatic smile that doesn’t betray his own thoughts. Silco would be sure to hate them, besides, since it’s similar to how Quetzalcoatl had viewed Silco upon learning this about him. No wonder he is the way he is, and Tezcatlipoca does feel a twinge of pity for that.
However, unlike his brother, Tezcatlipoca doesn’t warmly desire a world without strife. It may be sad, but that’s the way of things. These bad things are sharp catalysts, as Silco himself represents. ]
Mm, that’s essentially what I saw, but it’s different to hear it from you. You’re the one that lived it, after all.
[ It almost feels like he might leave it at that, but after a pause, he starts to walk towards one of the makeshift stalls that’s set up along the main street leading to the temple, and he nods for Silco to follow. ]
See, I ask because this city is fated to lose that fight. All my people will. Men came from across the sea and found our civilization, and they’ll destroy it. Today, a man will be sacrificed in my name. Tomorrow, the Spanish will massacre everyone gathered in that temple. This civilization will become a curious footnote because they’ll lose.
[ Tezcatlipoca relays it coolly, without the emotion that would be expected from Quetzalcoatl, though that’s not surprising. She’s passion and heat, and he’s the much cooler, more clever brother. But it’s because he’d always seen this end coming. Still, though.
The stand he gravitates towards is one where little bundles of golden flowers are made, and he picks one up. It seems that the gesture is what reveals him to the man working the stand, because his eyes immediately go wide, and his faces blanches. But Tezcatlipoca simply puts his fingers to his lips with a smile, and as he steps away, he exhales a dark smoke from his nose that seems to return him to imperceptible as the man immediately starts to pray. ]
…They’ll still fight it, though. Their descendants will fight it too. It’ll take time, centuries, but eventually, they’ll be free. They might not worship the same gods or even speak the same language, but they’ll be able to walk their own path once again.
[ He breaks the bundle in two, keeping half for himself, but offering the others for Silco. ]
Hold onto these. Might not be real, exactly, but they’re my gift to your resolve. We call them cempasúchil. They’re the flower that guides the soul home, even through a long journey. Feel like your revolution is gonna be one of those, yeah?
cw: colonialism
However, unlike his brother, Tezcatlipoca doesn’t warmly desire a world without strife. It may be sad, but that’s the way of things. These bad things are sharp catalysts, as Silco himself represents. ]
Mm, that’s essentially what I saw, but it’s different to hear it from you. You’re the one that lived it, after all.
[ It almost feels like he might leave it at that, but after a pause, he starts to walk towards one of the makeshift stalls that’s set up along the main street leading to the temple, and he nods for Silco to follow. ]
See, I ask because this city is fated to lose that fight. All my people will. Men came from across the sea and found our civilization, and they’ll destroy it. Today, a man will be sacrificed in my name. Tomorrow, the Spanish will massacre everyone gathered in that temple. This civilization will become a curious footnote because they’ll lose.
[ Tezcatlipoca relays it coolly, without the emotion that would be expected from Quetzalcoatl, though that’s not surprising. She’s passion and heat, and he’s the much cooler, more clever brother. But it’s because he’d always seen this end coming. Still, though.
The stand he gravitates towards is one where little bundles of golden flowers are made, and he picks one up. It seems that the gesture is what reveals him to the man working the stand, because his eyes immediately go wide, and his faces blanches. But Tezcatlipoca simply puts his fingers to his lips with a smile, and as he steps away, he exhales a dark smoke from his nose that seems to return him to imperceptible as the man immediately starts to pray. ]
…They’ll still fight it, though. Their descendants will fight it too. It’ll take time, centuries, but eventually, they’ll be free. They might not worship the same gods or even speak the same language, but they’ll be able to walk their own path once again.
[ He breaks the bundle in two, keeping half for himself, but offering the others for Silco. ]
Hold onto these. Might not be real, exactly, but they’re my gift to your resolve. We call them cempasúchil. They’re the flower that guides the soul home, even through a long journey. Feel like your revolution is gonna be one of those, yeah?