[ By comparison, Tezcatlipoca is careful with the flowers. He tucks them into the beads decorating the regalia across his chest. It’s a tender gesture that contrasts sharply with Silco’s bitter, vicious words, but he’s listening seriously. ]

Don’t disagree. Can’t exactly play the what ifs game in my case, though. I gotta admit, the Spanish had better weaponry, but would have been nice to see more vicious fighting before it was too late. The tide turned quickly, since unfortunately, the king made the wrong choice.

[ He saves one flower and twirls it in his fingers, then steps closer to tuck it into the lapel of Silco’s vest. The contact means that what he says has more gravity, because he fixes that sharp, intense, but ultimately unknowable gaze on Silco’s hardened one. This feels like a test, but what he’s testing isn’t at all clear. ]

You and I met for a reason, Silco. When you finally kick the bucket, I think you’ll be coming to visit my afterlife, at least if I have any say about it. And remember: that’s not an if, that’s a when. Make sure to die in a way that honors your convictions.

[ He draws his hands away from that flower, and though he doesn’t explain the significance, it’s a large one indeed. That’s cempasúchil, the marigold that guides the soul home. He doesn’t actually know, since the mysteries of different worlds are fuzzy even to him, but he at least feels that if there’s any way for him to stake such a claim? Silco’s soul is surely “his” to look out for. ]

So, when this is all said and done, assuming you aren’t tossed into another adventure… What’re you gonna take away from it? Bring back home?