[ He snickers as he retorts, but his attention drifts to the fish too as it works its way around Silco’s room. ]
They’re neat, right? Old tradition, apparently, but naturally back in the day they used to be the real thing. Kinda like these guys more though. No need to worry about a fishtank.
[ …Though if it were real, he probably would have eaten it. Secretly. Again, cat. ]
Got one for myself and was having fun with the game. Since you were missin’ out, brought you the souvenir. Stayin’ cooped up all the time ain’t good for ya.
[ It's a non-committal grunt in response to pointing out that he shouldn't stay cooped up. Silco knew, of course, that it was probably a poor idea, and while he'd ventured out into the city plenty, he's taking his time with his fellow "outsiders". Though Tezca and Set had already drug him out to that miserable experience with "dating" (why) and he thought that was probably plenty of facetime with...
What were frankly an even bigger group of do-good types than he was used to. And he was used to a lot of them. ]
And what did you have to do to win this, that you found so fun? [ A twist of his lips. ]
I can't imagine most little games would be all that interesting to someone like you.
[ He again, nudged the fish as it tried to swim up against him.
Although... it was somewhat nostalgic for him. Not quite the massive creatures that lurked beneath the river where he was from, but... It's still a fish. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca laughs, since he can guess what Silco is imagining here, but that’s precisely what makes him laugh. ]
You don’t think?
[ He heads over to a chair and plops down, then fishes out his cigarettes and lighter from the sleeve. No need to ask with Silco, at least, and he flicks the lighter open as he continues. ]
Nothin’ like what you’re thinking. Game for kids. You get a net made of paper, try and scoop your new friend out. Easy as that.
[ The cigarette is lit, and after he takes a puff of it, he waggles it at Silco. ]
Sure, it’s not like toxcatl, but festival’s a festival. I’m interested to see cultural traditions. Doesn’t always have to be complicated.
I can imagine that this is far different than any festival you would have a hand in, certainly.
[ It's just fact. This whole thing was so... tame. Things like fireworks, stalls, games, Silco kept looking over his shoulder during the brief time he was there, as if he was waiting for reality to come crashing down, and the deception to make itself known. It was all so... wholesome. Where was the fleecing? The semi-poisonous foods that left someone who was trying to walk "on the dangerous side" sick?
Festivals were where crime ran rampant, to Silco. This felt like something the Pilties would have organized, to show off their superior moral status.
Someday, Silco is going to have to contend with the fact that nobody else lives like him.
That's not happening now. ]
The game sounds... interesting. [ (derogatory) ]
What was your Toxcatl like, then? If it is vastly different, I'm curious.
Of course it is. It was my festival, so you can use your imagination for what celebrates yours truly.
[ He chuckles as he takes another drag of the cigarette, then leans his head back to rest on the top of the chair. When he breathes the smoke out through his nose, it’s not cigarette smoke. It’s a darker, more fragrant smoke that smells of copal. It’s a little showy, but there’s a meaning in it that’s not necessarily meant for Silco, who doesn’t understand the ritual of his culture. It’s just what feels right for telling the story of the festival, as if setting the stage. ]
We can get into the theology of it if you’re interested, but for the quicker version, just know that it’s a ritual just as much as a festival, so there’s meaning in the proceedings. See, each year, there was a guy that was designated as the teixiptla—someone meant to represent and impersonate me, and it was a position of reverence. Even though they were generally a captive of war, it was a desirable position, because for a year, you lived like a king. Education, pleasure, all you could want, you were given, since naturally if I were there, my people would give all they had to please me. So it was for the teixiptla.
The year comes to an end Toxcatl. It’s a month-long celebration with dancing, feasts, art, ritual. The gifts of Tezcatlipoca are given to all people. Prosperity is a gift from the gods, but gifts don’t come freely, even for us.
[ That’s the basic background, so as he gets to the climax of the festival, he sits up again and looks at Silco. It’s that intense gaze again that’s arresting even behind his sunglasses. ]
So, the teixiptla is sacrificed to me. Their year comes to an end violently, since on the top of the city’s temple, the priests skillfully remove his heart while it still beats. Their heart is my offering, and a strong warrior who doesn’t cry out is welcomed quickly to paradise. And as for the rest… Well, they’re beheaded so their skull can join all their predecessors in the position, and their flesh is flayed and eaten by the nobility. They eat the body of the chosen “god”, since nothing goes to waste. And then, the next year’s teixiptla is chosen.
[ So. Extremely different from this festival indeed. Tezcatlipoca smiles, sharp and challenging, and he leans forward a little. ]
—Actually. Me and Set were playin’ with some of what these can do. [ He taps the side of his head to refer to the implants. ] Kinda like Communion, if you know how to tweak the settings. So. You wanna see what Toxcatl is like in “person”?
[ He clears his throat, an itch in his lungs at the scent of the copal, itching and rubbing against his eternally over-taxed lungs, the seat of a cough that he covered by lighting a cigar that he fished out of his jacket, and inhaled on reflexively. The drama of it, he could appreciate, and as he listened to the tale of it, of someone given everything they could ever want, only to die after a year...
He can appreciate it. The ritual of it, the religious aspect, he doesn't really understand o4r have much interest in, but he can enjoy the dramatic irony of it. If only everyone who was given whatever they wanted could live only a year. what would they do with it? Become slaves to their own desires? Would they only be able to live for the moment?
Would they watch the days tick by, and feel the anticipation of their lives winding through the hourglass? Watching each grain trickle out? Watch the remaining time with the certainty that it would not last?
He knew a little bit what that was like, after all, once he had realized what his deal with the demon had meant, in Kenos. He remembered each day, feeling that anticipatory fear, feeling the sickening realization that he would not live to see the results of his fight, his efforts. Was it better, or worse, that it was a captive of war? The alternative for them, he expected, would be death or servitude. It's what he would do.
His lips curled, even reflecting on his own experience. After all, he wasn't here with Sebastian, he was here with Tezca. ]
Really? Is it similar to the ritual I saw you perform?
[ He asked, and his tone was curious. ] I would enjoy seeing it. I can imagine, but... the imagination tends to run away, doesn't it?
For removing the heart, yep. Identical. Well, mostly, since I’m going to be more skilled at it than any human, but…
[ He trails off, and with a flicker of light in his eye, a prompt appears for Silco: LAUNCH DATAVERSE? ]
I’m guess in’ your imagination of it is different, yeah. So, let’s go back to Tenochtitlan. I’ll even toss in showing you my real face so you and Set can be even.
[ His lips twitch, as he figures out how to open this. He's not fast, but... it's not with the quickness of someone natural with technology. It takes him a few moments, but he does figure it out. One does not raise Jinx without learning some things. ]
Your real face, hm? I think you mentioned that this wasn't really "you" before, hm?
[ if it didn't happen in a thread, we'll say it did. ]
At least Set won't have something to crow about.
[ and then, the metadataverse opens, and Silco looks... like himself predictably. Probably overdressed for whatever surroundings Tezca has come up with. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca doesn’t answer, though it’s mostly because he has to fiddle with the technology too. It’s more difficult on his end since he’s hosting, but it doesn’t take too long.
Silco is suddenly surrounded by sunshine and humidity as a city springs up around him. However, it’s like none he’s ever seen, because this is the ancient city that was the seat of the Aztec empire. The city is bustling at the foot of a grand temple, filled with people dancing, offering food from stalls, and generally waiting with excitement as they expect someone to come down the street. It’s all the normal markers of a celebration, save for the morbid structure behind them at the temple: spikes that all bear human skulls.
And from behind Silco: ]
Welcome to Tenochtitlan, bossman.
[ The voice is largely the same, just accented differently with the poetry of Nahuatl. But he truly couldn’t look more different. Tezcatlipoca stands with his hands on his hips, dressed in the regalia that Silco had seen for his gift, but his skin is largely covered in black paint now. The only exception are the stripes of richly warm skin left free from paint, including his still piercing blue eyes. ]
[ He isn't really quite sure what he expected, when he turned to look at Tezca, his eyes slowed because there was so much to take in, and Silco wasn't used to places that looked so... different? Yes, he had seen plenty in Kenos and beyond, but... there's something to be said for the... lush brutality of this place. The small details, the knowledge that there is a death coming, the way the city hums in celebration, the dress of the people, the skulls on spikes...
It's all different.
And not necessarily in a bad way.
Though when he finds Tezca, his eyes do make a doubletake, flicking up and down the man, before repeating, and then a single eye blinks. ]
Not what I expected.
[ He said, and it's not necessarily clear if he means Tezca or the city. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca appreciates the reaction, and he in fact watches it intently. He hadn’t used Communion this way, because it really hadn’t occurred to him. Unlike Quetzalcoatl, his interest was always in the present and the future. Looking back just wasn’t something he thought to do naturally, so this was only because Set had asked about it.
…But, he still feels a sense of pride for the beautiful city and its people. It’s an experience that’s priceless, because this is a place that truly only exists in the memories of the gods now. It could be somber for the loss of it, but that’s just not Tezcatlipoca’s way. ]
Even after meetin’ Quetzalcoatl? From what I heard, her manifestation was way more tied to this era.
[ He chuckles, knowing just mentioning his brother has a chance of setting Silco off, so he claps a hand on his shoulder and directs him through the crowd. It’s a strange experience, since none of the people seem to acknowledge them, but they move smoothly through it like the people just subconsciously part for them. That’s the power that Tezcatlipoca represents and can exert upon the world in his full divinity. ]
…Actually.
[ A thought occurs to him, and from the tone of that “actually”, it’s clear that this is a question that’s loaded. Maybe it’s a test. Or maybe he’s just curious. It’s hard to tell with Tezcatlipoca. ]
Your city, the place you’re from. Let’s say it was in danger. Someone comin’ in to try and change everything about it. What would you do?
[ He lied. He did, but he had never really thought about the world she came from, and what it would be like. Certainly, there was a way of their dress that he could see matched with her, and there is the way they talk, the voices that filter in and out that remind him of Quetzalcoatl, but anything else? He'd never thought about, because where she came from didn't matter like that. Once she was gone, after all, it would never come back.
He almost continued, feeling that old surge of resentment and hate blistering at the edges, like a fire ready to blaze, but —
Tezca askes something that redirects that fire, more than squashes it. ]
That is our every day, Tezca. They want to turn us into meek automatons, only good enough to mine their minerals for their prosperity, to die early deaths in the mines, and never make a peep of protest. We are at a war that they do not know that we are fighting, because they are happy to ignore us, pretend that we're nothing but criminals and scavengers who will never actualize enough power to stand for ourselves.
[ If Tezca didn't know how Silco would react, well. He's learning now. ]
We fight, ever day. They want us meek and quiet, we do the opposite. We rage against it. The change we want is the one we choose, not what they force down our throats like the gray filth they've poured into our air and river.
[ 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?
[ Silco watches, as he moves to the stall, watches the man's eyes widen in recognition, the sheer emotion on his face — reverence and fear all in one — makes a shiver go down Silco's spine. He had seen that look many times now, often when faced with people like Tezca, or Set, but even others when they were in the last world. When faced with the truly powerful, there was no mistaking that look.
Silco had enjoyed it. When they looked at him like that. He missed it, even if he wouldn't voice it.
His fingers wrapped around the flowers, almost instinctive, before he lowered them to his side. ]
What could they do but fight?
[ He asks, but he understands. How could he not? ]
My revolution already was. [ He says, as they continue. ] When I was just a boy, I learned well enough that power is all that topsiders — or your people across the sea — will listen to. Anything short of it, compassion or compliance do nothing more than stay their hand while they still sneak cruelty upon cruelty on us. It is better to die fighting, than it is to become cowed.
[ He reached up, and tapped his fingers to the scar over his eye. ]
I received this from an Enforcer, when we tried to gain our independence when I was a boy. I survived only because my compatriots lost their nerve for the fight. They backed off.
[ His lips twitch, as he looks at those individuals walking past. Knowing that they would die tomorrow doesn't make him feel pity, it makes him angry. He hoped they took their equal share, and then some, but he knows. He knows that slaughters like this go only one way. ]
I wouldn't, and thus, they attempted to cull me.
[ He looked at Tezca, for only a moment. ] I hope they never lose their will to fight, and betray their cohort.
[ 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?
We all know how that will work out, but perhaps if he does see Tezca's afterlife, it won't be quite as disappointing as going out any other way will for the man.
He, oddly, doesn't flinch away from tucking the flower into his lapel, only looks down at it for a moment, watches him do it, and then watches him move away. It's just a flower, but... something about it feels more Important. Maybe it's the way Tezca did it, or the fact that he picked it out. His lips twitch, but he doesn't remove it. He leaves it there. ]
Conviction. Plans. [ He finally answered, after a long moment of consideration. ] Experience, perhaps. Knowledge from all of these beings that I've encountered [ and some he has killed ] because it means whatever they can throw at us, we can be better.
When they last crushed us, I was but a boy. Even before, when I left, I feel like I was by now. I've learned a great deal about how little power they have.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ He snickers as he retorts, but his attention drifts to the fish too as it works its way around Silco’s room. ]
They’re neat, right? Old tradition, apparently, but naturally back in the day they used to be the real thing. Kinda like these guys more though. No need to worry about a fishtank.
[ …Though if it were real, he probably would have eaten it. Secretly. Again, cat. ]
Got one for myself and was having fun with the game. Since you were missin’ out, brought you the souvenir. Stayin’ cooped up all the time ain’t good for ya.
no subject
[ It's a non-committal grunt in response to pointing out that he shouldn't stay cooped up. Silco knew, of course, that it was probably a poor idea, and while he'd ventured out into the city plenty, he's taking his time with his fellow "outsiders". Though Tezca and Set had already drug him out to that miserable experience with "dating" (why) and he thought that was probably plenty of facetime with...
What were frankly an even bigger group of do-good types than he was used to. And he was used to a lot of them. ]
And what did you have to do to win this, that you found so fun? [ A twist of his lips. ]
I can't imagine most little games would be all that interesting to someone like you.
[ He again, nudged the fish as it tried to swim up against him.
Although... it was somewhat nostalgic for him. Not quite the massive creatures that lurked beneath the river where he was from, but... It's still a fish. ]
no subject
You don’t think?
[ He heads over to a chair and plops down, then fishes out his cigarettes and lighter from the sleeve. No need to ask with Silco, at least, and he flicks the lighter open as he continues. ]
Nothin’ like what you’re thinking. Game for kids. You get a net made of paper, try and scoop your new friend out. Easy as that.
[ The cigarette is lit, and after he takes a puff of it, he waggles it at Silco. ]
Sure, it’s not like toxcatl, but festival’s a festival. I’m interested to see cultural traditions. Doesn’t always have to be complicated.
no subject
[ It's just fact. This whole thing was so... tame. Things like fireworks, stalls, games, Silco kept looking over his shoulder during the brief time he was there, as if he was waiting for reality to come crashing down, and the deception to make itself known. It was all so... wholesome. Where was the fleecing? The semi-poisonous foods that left someone who was trying to walk "on the dangerous side" sick?
Festivals were where crime ran rampant, to Silco. This felt like something the Pilties would have organized, to show off their superior moral status.
Someday, Silco is going to have to contend with the fact that nobody else lives like him.
That's not happening now. ]
The game sounds... interesting. [ (derogatory) ]
What was your Toxcatl like, then? If it is vastly different, I'm curious.
no subject
[ He chuckles as he takes another drag of the cigarette, then leans his head back to rest on the top of the chair. When he breathes the smoke out through his nose, it’s not cigarette smoke. It’s a darker, more fragrant smoke that smells of copal. It’s a little showy, but there’s a meaning in it that’s not necessarily meant for Silco, who doesn’t understand the ritual of his culture. It’s just what feels right for telling the story of the festival, as if setting the stage. ]
We can get into the theology of it if you’re interested, but for the quicker version, just know that it’s a ritual just as much as a festival, so there’s meaning in the proceedings. See, each year, there was a guy that was designated as the teixiptla—someone meant to represent and impersonate me, and it was a position of reverence. Even though they were generally a captive of war, it was a desirable position, because for a year, you lived like a king. Education, pleasure, all you could want, you were given, since naturally if I were there, my people would give all they had to please me. So it was for the teixiptla.
The year comes to an end Toxcatl. It’s a month-long celebration with dancing, feasts, art, ritual. The gifts of Tezcatlipoca are given to all people. Prosperity is a gift from the gods, but gifts don’t come freely, even for us.
[ That’s the basic background, so as he gets to the climax of the festival, he sits up again and looks at Silco. It’s that intense gaze again that’s arresting even behind his sunglasses. ]
So, the teixiptla is sacrificed to me. Their year comes to an end violently, since on the top of the city’s temple, the priests skillfully remove his heart while it still beats. Their heart is my offering, and a strong warrior who doesn’t cry out is welcomed quickly to paradise. And as for the rest… Well, they’re beheaded so their skull can join all their predecessors in the position, and their flesh is flayed and eaten by the nobility. They eat the body of the chosen “god”, since nothing goes to waste. And then, the next year’s teixiptla is chosen.
[ So. Extremely different from this festival indeed. Tezcatlipoca smiles, sharp and challenging, and he leans forward a little. ]
—Actually. Me and Set were playin’ with some of what these can do. [ He taps the side of his head to refer to the implants. ] Kinda like Communion, if you know how to tweak the settings. So. You wanna see what Toxcatl is like in “person”?
no subject
He can appreciate it. The ritual of it, the religious aspect, he doesn't really understand o4r have much interest in, but he can enjoy the dramatic irony of it. If only everyone who was given whatever they wanted could live only a year. what would they do with it? Become slaves to their own desires? Would they only be able to live for the moment?
Would they watch the days tick by, and feel the anticipation of their lives winding through the hourglass? Watching each grain trickle out? Watch the remaining time with the certainty that it would not last?
He knew a little bit what that was like, after all, once he had realized what his deal with the demon had meant, in Kenos. He remembered each day, feeling that anticipatory fear, feeling the sickening realization that he would not live to see the results of his fight, his efforts. Was it better, or worse, that it was a captive of war? The alternative for them, he expected, would be death or servitude. It's what he would do.
His lips curled, even reflecting on his own experience. After all, he wasn't here with Sebastian, he was here with Tezca. ]
Really? Is it similar to the ritual I saw you perform?
[ He asked, and his tone was curious. ] I would enjoy seeing it. I can imagine, but... the imagination tends to run away, doesn't it?
no subject
[ He trails off, and with a flicker of light in his eye, a prompt appears for Silco: LAUNCH DATAVERSE? ]
I’m guess in’ your imagination of it is different, yeah. So, let’s go back to Tenochtitlan. I’ll even toss in showing you my real face so you and Set can be even.
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One does not raise Jinx without learning some things.]Your real face, hm? I think you mentioned that this wasn't really "you" before, hm?
[ if it didn't happen in a thread, we'll say it did. ]
At least Set won't have something to crow about.
[ and then, the
metadataverse opens, and Silco looks... like himself predictably. Probably overdressed for whatever surroundings Tezca has come up with. ]no subject
Silco is suddenly surrounded by sunshine and humidity as a city springs up around him. However, it’s like none he’s ever seen, because this is the ancient city that was the seat of the Aztec empire. The city is bustling at the foot of a grand temple, filled with people dancing, offering food from stalls, and generally waiting with excitement as they expect someone to come down the street. It’s all the normal markers of a celebration, save for the morbid structure behind them at the temple: spikes that all bear human skulls.
And from behind Silco: ]
Welcome to Tenochtitlan, bossman.
[ The voice is largely the same, just accented differently with the poetry of Nahuatl. But he truly couldn’t look more different. Tezcatlipoca stands with his hands on his hips, dressed in the regalia that Silco had seen for his gift, but his skin is largely covered in black paint now. The only exception are the stripes of richly warm skin left free from paint, including his still piercing blue eyes. ]
no subject
It's all different.
And not necessarily in a bad way.
Though when he finds Tezca, his eyes do make a doubletake, flicking up and down the man, before repeating, and then a single eye blinks. ]
Not what I expected.
[ He said, and it's not necessarily clear if he means Tezca or the city. ]
no subject
…But, he still feels a sense of pride for the beautiful city and its people. It’s an experience that’s priceless, because this is a place that truly only exists in the memories of the gods now. It could be somber for the loss of it, but that’s just not Tezcatlipoca’s way. ]
Even after meetin’ Quetzalcoatl? From what I heard, her manifestation was way more tied to this era.
[ He chuckles, knowing just mentioning his brother has a chance of setting Silco off, so he claps a hand on his shoulder and directs him through the crowd. It’s a strange experience, since none of the people seem to acknowledge them, but they move smoothly through it like the people just subconsciously part for them. That’s the power that Tezcatlipoca represents and can exert upon the world in his full divinity. ]
…Actually.
[ A thought occurs to him, and from the tone of that “actually”, it’s clear that this is a question that’s loaded. Maybe it’s a test. Or maybe he’s just curious. It’s hard to tell with Tezcatlipoca. ]
Your city, the place you’re from. Let’s say it was in danger. Someone comin’ in to try and change everything about it. What would you do?
no subject
[ He lied. He did, but he had never really thought about the world she came from, and what it would be like. Certainly, there was a way of their dress that he could see matched with her, and there is the way they talk, the voices that filter in and out that remind him of Quetzalcoatl, but anything else? He'd never thought about, because where she came from didn't matter like that. Once she was gone, after all, it would never come back.
He almost continued, feeling that old surge of resentment and hate blistering at the edges, like a fire ready to blaze, but —
Tezca askes something that redirects that fire, more than squashes it. ]
That is our every day, Tezca. They want to turn us into meek automatons, only good enough to mine their minerals for their prosperity, to die early deaths in the mines, and never make a peep of protest. We are at a war that they do not know that we are fighting, because they are happy to ignore us, pretend that we're nothing but criminals and scavengers who will never actualize enough power to stand for ourselves.
[ If Tezca didn't know how Silco would react, well. He's learning now. ]
We fight, ever day. They want us meek and quiet, we do the opposite. We rage against it. The change we want is the one we choose, not what they force down our throats like the gray filth they've poured into our air and river.
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?
no subject
Silco had enjoyed it. When they looked at him like that. He missed it, even if he wouldn't voice it.
His fingers wrapped around the flowers, almost instinctive, before he lowered them to his side. ]
What could they do but fight?
[ He asks, but he understands. How could he not? ]
My revolution already was. [ He says, as they continue. ] When I was just a boy, I learned well enough that power is all that topsiders — or your people across the sea — will listen to. Anything short of it, compassion or compliance do nothing more than stay their hand while they still sneak cruelty upon cruelty on us. It is better to die fighting, than it is to become cowed.
[ He reached up, and tapped his fingers to the scar over his eye. ]
I received this from an Enforcer, when we tried to gain our independence when I was a boy. I survived only because my compatriots lost their nerve for the fight. They backed off.
[ His lips twitch, as he looks at those individuals walking past. Knowing that they would die tomorrow doesn't make him feel pity, it makes him angry. He hoped they took their equal share, and then some, but he knows. He knows that slaughters like this go only one way. ]
I wouldn't, and thus, they attempted to cull me.
[ He looked at Tezca, for only a moment. ] I hope they never lose their will to fight, and betray their cohort.
no subject
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?
no subject
[ lol
lmao
We all know how that will work out, but perhaps if he does see Tezca's afterlife, it won't be quite as disappointing as going out any other way will for the man.
He, oddly, doesn't flinch away from tucking the flower into his lapel, only looks down at it for a moment, watches him do it, and then watches him move away. It's just a flower, but... something about it feels more Important. Maybe it's the way Tezca did it, or the fact that he picked it out. His lips twitch, but he doesn't remove it. He leaves it there. ]
Conviction. Plans. [ He finally answered, after a long moment of consideration. ] Experience, perhaps. Knowledge from all of these beings that I've encountered [ and some he has killed ] because it means whatever they can throw at us, we can be better.
When they last crushed us, I was but a boy. Even before, when I left, I feel like I was by now. I've learned a great deal about how little power they have.