[ 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}
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.