Set can smell it in his divinity: the traces of another god who no longer exists, destroyed so utterly that even reviving a world will not restore her. The words spur Set to lean closer, attentive to Tezcatlipoca's tone and what he is saying ( or not saying, or saying in a particular way ). To reach out with his bare hands and press them each to a point on the other god's form; one to his knee, the other to his hand. It's a fondness hard-earned by others, given to a dangerous rival solely because in the end, Quetzalcoatl had been someone he loved — and the root of her was here, before him.
That love, naturally, needs somewhere to go. It is hesitant and injured, but it still settles into the flat of Tezcatlipoca's palm. Simple and steady. ]
Do you want Oblivion to win?
[ It is the greatest threat, as well as the reason for the strife and war they are now part of — and Set knows that he is young, estranged from the whole of his divinity long before he even arrived in Kenos if the texts he's read are true. God of war, storms, chaos, trickster, hero, demon. He wears a thousand faces, and none know him for the truth. A solitary, integral god, much like Tezcatlipoca. ]
Is that an outcome you, as you are, can accept? True extinction. Where not even the cosmic sea from which we all hail remains. Because I will never accept that.
[ It's there, that Set's eyes shine; pupils dark and narrow, burning hot with the echo of Ra's fire and the sun's cruel rays of conquest, of punishment. He leans further towards Tezca, wrapping his hands around his face; fond, but searching for his convictions in the midst of his divine duties. ]
I don't exist to keep balance, you know. You might be the god with the "most bang for your buck", but I must be here... for more than just someone's sentimentality or random selection. I was meant to give meaning to ma'at, to be the adversary. Even if they deserve Oblivion, I intend to survive their lacking.
I'd like it if you survived too, Icnoacatzintli. I wouldn't mourn the mortals.
no subject
Well, duh.
Set can smell it in his divinity: the traces of another god who no longer exists, destroyed so utterly that even reviving a world will not restore her. The words spur Set to lean closer, attentive to Tezcatlipoca's tone and what he is saying ( or not saying, or saying in a particular way ). To reach out with his bare hands and press them each to a point on the other god's form; one to his knee, the other to his hand. It's a fondness hard-earned by others, given to a dangerous rival solely because in the end, Quetzalcoatl had been someone he loved — and the root of her was here, before him.
That love, naturally, needs somewhere to go. It is hesitant and injured, but it still settles into the flat of Tezcatlipoca's palm. Simple and steady. ]
Do you want Oblivion to win?
[ It is the greatest threat, as well as the reason for the strife and war they are now part of — and Set knows that he is young, estranged from the whole of his divinity long before he even arrived in Kenos if the texts he's read are true. God of war, storms, chaos, trickster, hero, demon. He wears a thousand faces, and none know him for the truth. A solitary, integral god, much like Tezcatlipoca. ]
Is that an outcome you, as you are, can accept? True extinction. Where not even the cosmic sea from which we all hail remains. Because I will never accept that.
[ It's there, that Set's eyes shine; pupils dark and narrow, burning hot with the echo of Ra's fire and the sun's cruel rays of conquest, of punishment. He leans further towards Tezca, wrapping his hands around his face; fond, but searching for his convictions in the midst of his divine duties. ]
I don't exist to keep balance, you know. You might be the god with the "most bang for your buck", but I must be here... for more than just someone's sentimentality or random selection. I was meant to give meaning to ma'at, to be the adversary. Even if they deserve Oblivion, I intend to survive their lacking.
I'd like it if you survived too, Icnoacatzintli. I wouldn't mourn the mortals.