[ For the first time, Silco’s words find their mark, and Quetzalcoatl frowns with a twinge of anger, albeit a small one. It’s the mocking and the meanness that gets under her skin more than the words themselves. ]

It wasn’t perfect. No world is, and no world will ever be.

[ Including the one that the Zenites want to make is implied, but she doesn’t stress that point. The more they talk and the more she sees how deep Silco’s miserable personality goes, the more she also thinks he doesn’t care about that world ahead either. ]

You’re angry. [ A statement, not a question, since the shared space of Communion means he can’t hide that. ] And you know, señor Silco, I do think you have plenty of reason to be. It sounds like you had a hard, unfair life, and your world wasn’t kind to you. But you don’t have to carry that unkindness with you.

[ She can also be sure that pointing it out will make him mad, but she feels she has to in that case. But she also heard that sharply bitter thought. Her voice softens as she continues. ]

I can’t throw away my world. Even if it eventually festered, it’s still important. It’s imperfect, maybe even bad sometimes, but it’s still worthy of love.

[ But as she speaks of her world, her eyes are on Silco’s. It’s true and earnest, of course, but considering her choice of words, she means a little more too. ]