[ As soon as Quetzalcoatl hears the bitter hurt in Set’s conviction, there’s an apologetic regret that comes through as a feeling so immediate that it can’t be anything but honest and earnest. It tempers her own response by taking out some of the fire of her response, and it’s somewhat literal. Her presence in Communion is like the sun, bright and far-reaching—But its intensity softens as she listens. ]

Oh… Set.

[ The way he talks about Heliopolis, she understands how it must sting, or enough of it. If it had been called Tenochtitlan, she thinks it would hurt her too. It would be a reminder of what’s gone, of course, but having it replaced by something she can only imagine is nothing like his Heliopolis is cruel. Unintentional, because she’s more forgiving than Set, but painful.

By the time he finishes his explanation, her presence is gentler. Rather than a sun that’s scorching, it’s a warm, enveloping presence. It’s a blanket on the shoulders or sitting next to a fire on a cool night. ]

I’m not going to do anything about it, no. I might have come to scold you a little about being nicer to mortals, but that’s it!

[ She sighs, but it’s definitely at herself, not him. ]

I don’t know much more than the basics about you and your divinity, Set, and I don’t know how much you know about mine. We oversee two lands that are far apart, right? [ Her tone lightens for the rhetorical question, but it’s quickly back to a more serious one. ] But I can hear it in your voice how you miss Heliopolis, so I am sorry for being rude about that. I didn’t know.

[ She can at least give an apology easily, and the sincerity is without question. ]

So, you want to help Meridian and be able to bring back your home. Right?