He knows that's what he means. Everything about her, her touch, the cool of Zenith, the first time she'd reached out to him to grip him and bestow him power, to her voice echoing through the lips of another, promising that he was hers, that he would not be tossed aside again β
He still knew the truth.
She'd been the one who held steadfast.
His face twitched. The blessing meant the hurt didn't settle in. He could keep going. He could β He needed to move. Tezcatlipoca would kill him. He was death incarnate. He said it himself.
The weight of his words, the promise. That he would find him at the end of his time. It was a promise. It was a threat. he is the black sun that reflects all creation. He's the end. The thing they will all find. He knows it, like a solid, ever-present weight on his chest. Quetzalcoatl would have tried to get help, had, while threatening, but she had. Tezcatlipoca would not. He would expect Silco to survive it on his own.
His hand is gone.
It's not coming back. He's surprised it came back when he arrived here.
He needs to dress it. ]
I know you're coming for me. [ A breath. It still hurts, but not like it should. ] But it won't be today. I still have things to do, Tezcatlipoca. You will not take them from me.
[ A tip of his head.
From the side, one of the shimmered archaeologists comes rushing out of the shadowed alley, rushing to slam into Tezcatlipoca, lashing out with a meaty, muscled fist.
Silco starts to back up, aiming to slide into the shadows. ]
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He knows that's what he means. Everything about her, her touch, the cool of Zenith, the first time she'd reached out to him to grip him and bestow him power, to her voice echoing through the lips of another, promising that he was hers, that he would not be tossed aside again β
He still knew the truth.
She'd been the one who held steadfast.
His face twitched. The blessing meant the hurt didn't settle in. He could keep going. He could β He needed to move. Tezcatlipoca would kill him. He was death incarnate. He said it himself.
The weight of his words, the promise. That he would find him at the end of his time. It was a promise. It was a threat. he is the black sun that reflects all creation. He's the end. The thing they will all find. He knows it, like a solid, ever-present weight on his chest. Quetzalcoatl would have tried to get help, had, while threatening, but she had. Tezcatlipoca would not. He would expect Silco to survive it on his own.
His hand is gone.
It's not coming back. He's surprised it came back when he arrived here.
He needs to dress it. ]
I know you're coming for me. [ A breath. It still hurts, but not like it should. ] But it won't be today. I still have things to do, Tezcatlipoca. You will not take them from me.
[ A tip of his head.
From the side, one of the shimmered archaeologists comes rushing out of the shadowed alley, rushing to slam into Tezcatlipoca, lashing out with a meaty, muscled fist.
Silco starts to back up, aiming to slide into the shadows. ]