THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME

[beleos]

Sweet dreams are made of Bliss

As the twilight falls, and bearers begin to tuck in for their evenings on the night of the 15th of March (OOC time) and whether they tuck themselves into bed fully, or simply drift away in the middle of their dinner, work, indulgences, or what have you; bearers will fall into a deep, deep sleep. Perhaps you slump in your chair, or you wrap your arms around a teddy bear, or partner, or cup a precious shard in your sleep, it doesn’t matter, because as you drift away, into a sleep that seems to tug you under like the undertow itself, a question will echo in bearer’s minds: “If given the choice, would you show compassion in the face of adversity?”

It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.

The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.

Click your Heels together, Dorothy!

As you awake for the first time, it’s alien, the world that meets you. New smells fill your nostrils, new sights, the gravity is perhaps different than you’ve gotten used to on Kenos, even those slight shifts enough to make the world feel wholly different. You remember the advocate’s words, and it wants you to feel what it feels. Understanding. Compassion, and perhaps there is a sense that doing so would hurt yourself in turn, if you understood too much. That is the advocate’s way, after all, isn’t it?

You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.

The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?

After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.

Around the world in 60 seconds 12 hours

When you find yourself at the end, when you close your eyes – only a blink, but it hangs, as if the momentary motion is enough to suspend you into a suspended space before. You can see the two options stretched out before you – metaphysically – the impression of it. A long, long shadow cast over one. As if there is a presence hovering over and above, like waiting jaws, ready to strike. In the other, there remains…nothing. It is not pleasant, it is not comforting, it simply… is. A sense that there is now a lack of anything, almost like it had never existed before.

Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?

And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?

Catch [???] Winks

The last world’s fate decided, bearers float in an endless sea of stars. You can see them all, spread before you. Intermittently, they wink out, swallowed into the darkness, consumed as the shadows, that inky-black nothingness grows ever-larger. It looks upon you, bearers. It is nothing, but you have its attention, and your blood runs cold, your limbs frozen. You cannot move, you cannot speak, you cannot breathe. You feel it, the power of being drawn into it, like it wants to consume you. Like it knows you.

T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜

You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.

CODING

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tezcatlipoca (zenith harbinger)

[fursuit]

I. Tʜᴇ Uɴᴅᴇʀᴄɪᴛʏ

[ Tezcatlipoca’s face is twisted up into a little bit of a scowl for this world, though it’s actually nothing personal. The air is almost heavy feeling here, polluted and foul as it is, so with a bit more sensitivity to such things than his human body would otherwise give, he’s not quite as happy to be here as some earlier haunts. He’s mostly trying to figure out who this belongs to on arrival to see what kind of effort he needs to put in, but he barks out a laugh once he sees The Last Drop.

No further guessing needed, huh?

So, by the time someone joins him in the bar, he looks like he’s fitting in perfectly. His clothing may not be as ostentatious as others, but he’s chatting at the bar with a grin. He could be a regular, for as easy as his smile is. But when he glances and sees someone else who decidedly doesn’t fit in, his grin gets a little bit toothier, and he waves you over, regardless of your faction. His drink looks decidedly quite full, and he shoves it into your hands. ]

Here, try this.

[ First, and most important. Second&mdahs; ]

You wanna try and get into some trouble? Got a fun little lead for this world.

II. Lᴜɴɢᴍᴇɴ

[ You’ll find Tezcatlipoca looking rather feline in Lungmen, though it doesn’t seem to bother him that much. Maybe it’d been strange for a few minutes, but after that? Sure, who cares. He has a jaguar’s ears and tail now. At least it fits.

It doesn’t take him long to head towards the slums. Part of it is seeking out those fun little Shards, but the other part… Well. These are the kinds of people he’s drawn to, in a way. They’re struggling to survive, so even if it’s hopeless, he has to give them the consideration of a visit, at least. That’s how he thinks of it. Of course, once he actually sees how the disease presents itself… He’s a little amused, if darkly. Originium may not totally look like obsidian, but it’s definitely close enough at a glance that he’d been surprised.

…So, when things are getting tense and it seems like Reunion is going to go move out to start their attack, it’s a surprise to run across another Shard-Bearer. Tezcatlipoca twirls his (stupid) gun around his finger casually, and his new tail sways back and forth like he’s deeply pleased. ]

What a surprise. You think you’re gonna join in on the fun?

III. Zᴇʟᴛʀᴇᴄʜ’s Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ

[ As soon as you arrive at the entrance to the dungeon, you might feel a prickle of burning against the back of one of your hands. There, you’ll see that a tattoo has formed, and for most of you, that’s just going to be weird, most likely… But there’s someone nearby that feels not quite the same sensation, but it’s definitely a pull… ]

Huh? You gotta be shittin’ me…

[ He clicks his tongue in annoyance and even tosses his head back for a moment with a groan, but then walks closer. ]

Looks like you got the Command Seals, huh? So long as you don’t fuckin’ use ‘em, fine, we’ll be buddies. C’mon. Let’s get goin’.

[ …He sure does not explain what that means, though! But I will! For the duration of this part of the trip, your character is now Tezcatlipoca’s Master, and the Command Seals are three magical commands that they can issue that he literally cannot disobey, pretty much no matter what’s requested. However, be careful, because if they’re used to make him do something he didn’t already want to do, uh. He’s not going to be happy. He’ll be murderous, in fact. ]

IV. Cʜɪᴄʜᴇ́ɴ Iᴛᴢᴀ́

[ This is Tezcatlipoca’s home turf. More or less, anyways. He’d been annoyed to find out that he’d landed in Chichén Itzá instead of Mexico City, but… Fine, he guesses. Honestly, he attributes it to his bad luck more than anything. It’s a city where he doesn’t really feel like showing his face, since seeing Deinos would probably just tempt him to cut them down and cut them open, so. He retreats to the jungles. It might not be as vast as what he’d hope, but it’ll do.

When this world is drawing towards its close is when you’re most likely to find Tezcatlipoca at all. Once he’d found the Ocelomeh, he’d been much more pleased. Whether you’re venturing deep into the jungle or a little later to its edges, you’ll find Tezcatlipoca with a sizeable retinue of the masked and heavily armed men. He seems to be giving them advice, which they’re listening to with rapt attention. Their language is unintelligible to anyone but Tezcatlipoca, it seems, but it’s clear from their tones and their posture that they treat him with nothing short of reverence.

It's actually one of the Ocelomeh that first points you out, and Tezcatlipoca looks over with a casual air, like he hadn’t just been giving them tactical advice on how to invade the peaceful city… ]

Oh? Comin’ to join in on the festivities?

V. Wɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

[ None of these strike your fancy or want to do something different? Hit me up! ]

undercity

[bakedapple]

[ Link is completely out of his element in a world like this. Dark, crowded, noisy, dirty; a person needs a certain expertise to survive in a place like this, of the sort you can only get with experience. Sort of like living int he wilderness, actually... But that's the side of the coin that Link is versed in, not this. It doesn't help that it reminds him of Kowloon, either — the place Bondrewd lured him to, leading to a sequence of events that changed his life forever.

The only reason he steps into "The Last Drop" is because a local recommended the place after he asked where he could get a drink. Now that he's here, he has the sneaking feeling that person was being funny sending him to a place like this.

But oh, whatever. The neon lights and bad air of the Undercity have exhausted him, and if he has to just spend the rest of his time in this world in this skeevy bar, then fine.

He's meandering towards the bar, avoiding the dirty looks of its other patrons, when he sees someone waving out of the corner of his eye. The bar is so dim that it's not until he's approached the stranger that he realizes it's not a stranger at all, and with a sense of relief washing over him, he gladly accepts the drink shoved into his hands. ]

Oh, Goddesses. Am I ever glad to see you. What's this?

[ Sliding into the seat next to Tezcatlipoca, he starts to bring the drink to his mouth but stops. ]

Lead? For what?

[fursuit]

No idea. Just asked for one of whatever the guy before me got.

[ He genuinely doesn’t know at all… It looks like something whiskey-based, but giving it a sniff, the odor is… not totally pleasant. However, it at least tastes better than it smells. ]

For this world’s Shard. I think it’s easy to guess who this world belongs to, so I’m keen to go see where it’s squirreled away. Serves as a nice tour of the place too, I figure.

[ He taps the bar’s counter with a finger, but it’s a gesture that clearly means “down” rather than an idle tapping. ]

You hear about Shimmer? I’m gonna bet it’s where they make it, and that’s the lead I got.

[bakedapple]

[ The mention of Shimmer confirms Link's suspicions as to whose world this was, and his face darkens in response. He looks down into the mystery drink again with new hesitation, and thinks of what he told Silco over Communion: how long do you think you've got left after what you did?

Decisively, Link sets the drink down onto the bar counter. The soft impact displaces condensation on the sides into droplets. ]

...Sure. I'll go.

[ The attack on Springstar gave Link a firsthand experience in what Shimmer can do to people. The knowledge that Silco was manufacturing it back in his own world, and brought it to Kenos to wreak havoc on its population, makes his fingers curly angrily against the damp surface of the glass. ]

But what're you going to do with that Shard if you find it?

[fursuit]

[ Decisive, he likes that. He chuckles with approval and nods. ]

Y’know, good question. Hadn’t really made a decision yet. Figured the answer would come to me if I found it.

[ Rather, actually holding it in his hands wouldn’t be something he’d necessarily want. He was supportive, but when it came to truly big decisions… He’d prefer to leave it to someone else. So, with a toothy grin, he nods at Link. ]

Tell ya what. I’ll leave that final decision to you when we get down there. That suits me just fine, whatever you choose, since we’re allies.

[bakedapple]

...

[ It's this part of the proposition, it seems, that makes Link pause. Putting himself in danger, following the lead of an authority... those things are so normal for him that they feel natural. Almost rote.

But more than anything — more than destiny, or fear, or the chance of death — what seems to weigh on him more than all of it is the responsibility that comes with having to make a decision all on his own. ]

I don't...

[ He frowns. Maybe he should have tried the mystery drink after all. ]

I'm not going to shatter it.

[ That much, he can actually commit to. He isn't about to do something like that after telling the other Zenites not to a few days ago. But, now that he's said that, he rises to his feet and looks to Tezcatlipoca. ]

Is that enough... to count as a "final decision"?

[ In a way, it sorta is, since there's only so much to do with a Shard in the first place. But to whatever extent there might be more to decide than just that... well, Link isn't really one to make big decisions, either. Who would give that kind of power to a self-identified pawn? ]

[fursuit]

Yep. Works just fine for me.

[ Tezcatlipoca accepts it easily, though his eyes do stay on Link as he puzzles through it. He can see the conflict clearly on his face, and in a way, that’s all he wants to inspire. Actual destruction is a side issue. It’s the consideration of the question that matters.

Since Link isn’t taking it, Tezcatlipoca grabs the glass and takes a healthy (?) drink before setting it back down with a laughing cough. It tastes like absolute shit, but it’s what he’d expect from a place like this. It energizes him a little, honestly, so he stands too after. He leans over the bar as the bartender comes close, and with a grin: ]

Silco’s tab. I’m a business associate, so he’ll pay.

[ He’s confident enough that the bartender doesn’t even question it, save for the fact that Tezcatlipoca is more well put together than most of the residents of the Undercity. But his affect and the brash confidence matches it without a problem. As he turns away from the bar with the tab “settled”, he slings an arm over Link’s shoulder and starts to lead the way out. ]

So! Let’s go huntin’, Hummingbird. If nothin’ else, it’ll be a good time!

iv.

[kaientai]

[ As soon as he wakes up in this world, Ryouma knows who it belongs to despite being greeted with a wall of jungle vegetation and the unpleasant surprise of discovering he was half-lying on an anthill.

He's been connected to the World long enough to recognise this place as a version of it, but since he had denied the Advocate access, that really narrows things down.

That's why it's a little weird that he can sense something of himself in this place anyway. It seems the Oracle refused to take no for an answer and placed a Shard in this world, and that's where he's headed when he encounters the Ocelomeh. ]

I was looking for something, actually, but since I'm here — what are we celebrating?

[ Sure, he could be all on his guard while approaching a war god and his army of weird little guys, but that wouldn't change the fact that if Tezca decides it's time to fight, he's at a disadvantage any way you turn it. Ryouma is down one whole Noble Phantasm, and his spear isn't as powerful as it could be, so all he really has going for him is an unpredictable fighting style. And that's not counting the army. Since it can't be helped, Ryouma keeps his hands tucked in his pockets and chooses to face things calmly instead. ]

NOT THE ANTHILL LMAO

[fursuit]

[ Honestly, Ryouma is probably the person that Tezcatlipoca would be most excited to encounter here in this little slice of the world. They’d talked about it briefly as a truce over Tezcatlipoca’s campfire, but it feels fitting that Chaldea’s conflict and Ryouma’s pledge to the World would be made manifest so soon after. From Ryouma’s point of view, this is a world that shouldn’t exist at all. And from Tezcatlipoca’s…

Well, that might be right. But that’s the whole point, to him. Proper Human History has to fight to prove itself worthy, and it has to be bloody to be worth the billions erased in its wake. Yet, it's not so much a moral conflict to Tezcatlipoca as it is one of ideology and philosophy. ]

What else? Conflict. There’s hearts to be claimed and offered, and the Deinos are especially tasty, y’know.

[ His answer is flippant and easy, but his gaze is sharper and more dangerous than that. There’s no question that he means it, uh, extremely literally. ]

You wanna join in our hunt?

[ He asks, but it’s bait. He can be fairly sure of the answer. ]

the real conflict in this world is ants versus everyone else

[kaientai]

[ It makes you wonder why billions need to be erased at all when you now know that countless other worlds exist — including no shortage of alternate versions of Earth — but that sort of thing is well above Ryouma's pay grade, so there's no point in wasting more effort thinking about it.

More importantly, this world isn't even real; it's just a construct made up for a bit of show and tell. Lostbelts should indeed be erased according to the rules he's sworn to uphold, but the World needs to exist for there to be a Proper Human History in the first place, which means voting as a Meridian and not a Guardian. ]

Ah, of course. These worlds are meant to be reflective of their owners, after all.

[ So, the conflict is not unexpected. Ryouma hasn't met the Deinos yet, but he imagines they're people because animals seem like poor sport for a god, but even with that in mind, Tezca's words don't shock him. He's been talking his wife out of trying to eat people constantly for a very long time — some people eat other people, even if he personally doesn't enjoy it. ]

I think I'll pass, seeing as we're on a timer. I'd be poor company anyway; given options, conflict is never my first choice.

[ Unfortunately, despite his resistance, this war keeps pushing him towards a place where conflict seems to be the only choice. ]

[fursuit]

[ Tezcatlipoca laughs at the assessment, since Ryouma is making a (completely reasonable) assumption that isn’t quite accurate. However, just in case Meridian happens to win, it’s to his advantage to not elaborate. Ryouma hasn’t visited his Lostbelt yet, so he can figure out who its king and influence is on his own time.

So instead, he clicks his tongue in disapproval, but it’s unsurprising. ]

Spoilsport. But I guess that’s to be expected of a Counter Guardian. Figured you guys wouldn’t know a good time if it shot you in the face.

[ Ignore the choice of words with his heavily armed crew. Surely that doesn’t mean anything. ]

Besides. This is an Oracle. Should be going at each others’ throats.

iv with a wildcard spin

[zauneyete]

[ This city of sun and leathered creatures had so little to interest Silco that he had spent much of it in the markets or observing the goods. As if there was value to be found in a city like this, as if he could smuggle some of it out, but really, Silco wasn't here to "enjoy" these worlds, since his choice would always be the same. After all, if he could vote to destroy his own world (spoilers), what hope did the rest of them have?

Though the longer it went, the more bored Silco got with all of...this, and he slipped past the walls, and along the jungle. Invisible, just because he did not want to deal with the Authorities, when the Ocelometh started to slip out of the jungle and into the edges of it, and Silco went stock still when one of them pointed straight toward him. Perhaps he should have predicted for cats, or another creature that could hunt, but when he saw Tezcatlipoca among them, he did not slow his approach. ]

Your doing?

[ He asked, looking the gathering of them up and down as he appeared from seemingly nowhere. ] What sort of festivities did you have planned?

[ He doesn't ask if this is his world — since in the end, did it matter? ]

[fursuit]

[ There’s a momentary sharpness in Tezcatlipoca’s gaze as the Ocelomeh points out someone unseen. His gun is held a bit more seriously and with a cocky grin, but it softens as Silco speaks. Ah, just his favorite acolyte! Good to know that he’s this sneaky, too. ]

You bet. These are the Ocelomeh. They’re my people here in Mictlan.

[ It’s subtle, but there’s a tone in “my people” that’s not the norm. It’s a possessive meaning. He’s not a part of them, and rather, he’d uplifted them.

He speaks to one of them, and the language is unintelligible to Silco’s ears. There’s an animal quality to it, and there’s a sense that he wouldn’t be able to speak it if he tried—like the physical structures needed just aren’t there. But obediently and with nothing short of reverence, one of the Ocelomeh holding an AK-47 dips into a bow and offers it to Tezcatlipoca. He tucks his pistol away so that he can take that instead, but it’s so he can hold it out for Silco to come closer to inspect. ]

Raiding. The deinos have damn good meat, especially their hearts. Figured while we’re making a pitstop, might as well receive offerings from my guys.

[zauneyete]

[ Silco's eyes watch the exchange, and while he doesn't understand what is said — this is a bestial language, after all — but he can see what is going on here. How they revere him, the way they follow orders. Silco was, unfortunately, the type of person that had pursued power for so long that even seeing a glimpse of it was akin to dangling a piece of raw meat before a beast, and asking it to show restraint.

Silco approached slowly, to look at the weapon. It was... well. Sleeker than anything he'd seen from Jinx's inventions, but the narrow chamber certainly wasn't going to put out the same sort of bullets that his daughter did with her gatling-fed machine gun. (Yes, I looked this up.) He tipped his head, this way, and that, and then lifted his solitary eyebrow. ]

Including weaponry, I see. Quite the offering.

[ His eyes flicked to the Ocelomeh again, curious. ]

I suppose I never asked what type of people your worshippers were. I didn't realize they were... so different from you.

[fursuit]

Well, the weaponry isn’t an offering, actually. That was my gift to them. They have a real hard time killing Deinos, so this is the kinda weapons I was talkin’ about makin’.

[ Since Silco is satisfied with the perusal, Tezcatlipoca goes through the process of cocking and setting it with fluid, practiced movement. ]

They’re the most devoted followers I’ve got. They don’t fear anything, so they’re happy to fight and die just because I tell ‘em to. It’s an honor.

[ And to demonstrate, Tezcatlipoca speaks again, and with a hoot, an Ocelmoeh turns their gun on the one that had given Tezcatlipoca the gun and pulls the trigger. They’re shredded by the bullets and collapse to bleed out, and the other Ocelomeh don’t react with horror—they cheer. ]

They understand that all they have is thanks to me. So their lives belong to me.

[zauneyete]

[ It's a vicious display. For the weak of heart, something that would cause another to flinch away, or show fear at the way they unquestioningly murder one another at the sound of a word from Tezca. Were Silco one of those types, however, he wouldn't be here to witness it.

He sees it, and understands something that he probably wouldn't have before. How devoted they are to him. Even Zaunites would have never done such a thing. He'd had to give them power beyond their imagining to even force them to dream of having a better life, most of them satisfied with remaining complacent and cowed by Piltover, happy for the mere scraps and protection Vander offered.

If he could have done this, what would Zaun have looked like? If he could have simply asked them to walk into enforcer lines without fear? ]

You must have given them a great gift then, I suspect?

[ He eyed the body, and then back to Tezca. ]

The weapons to kill Deinos. Is it for food, or... some greater reason, that they fight them?

[ It had to be because of the gifts he gave, right? That's it? He's still trying to wrap his head around it. Their manic devotion. ]

[fursuit]

We eat ‘em, yeah. They ain’t bad eatin’, either. Tough, but one Deino can feed multiple homes, easy. Nice n’ practical, so long as they save the hearts for me.

[ There’s symbolism in that, and it’s more powerful as a result. The center of a being, the seat of their lifeblood, and Tezcatlipoca is truly nourished by it as only a god could be. Or, well. Was, technically. It no longer applies, but he’ll still eat them raw for the pleasure of it.

But Tezcatlipoca gives Silco a knowing grin as he steps to the closest of the Ocelomeh. ]

But mostly? They do it because I tell ‘em to. This is a war I desire, so they’ll fight until there’s no one left. That’s my demand as the cost of uplifting them. Because—

[ He says a few words and the Ocelomeh bows their head deferentially as they take of the leopard-inspired mask. And underneath… It’s an ape. They’re definitively not human. They’re still very far from it. And that is the gift that Tezcatlipoca had given them. ]

Evolution’s slow. I let ‘em skip the queue, more or less. That’s the kinda god I am, bossman. Like I said—the impossible is possible with me.

[zauneyete]

[ It's odd, he thinks, because he isn't quite sure what he expected behind the masks, but it certainly wasn't...

Well. That.

Not even close to human, but their attitudes and actions were, like there was something happening that he could barely understand, and really, he couldn't, but the weight of it was enough that he could draw some conclusions from it. Like someone with a base education who's smart enough to draw the appropriate conclusions, but doesn't really understand the background science of it all. He'd spend enough time with Singed to get the basics, but he doesn't understand it.

He does, however, understand that this is a lot. It's a grand gift that he's given them, and they show the... adulation that's appropriate.

His heart skips a beat as he puts together what it is. ]

You've given them a future. [ He says it, making it make sense in his own words, how he understands it. ]

And you ask little in return, really. Some sacrifice is always necessary, of course, but it is no wonder they give everything they have.

[fursuit]

[ Tezcatlipoca gives the Ocelomeh a nod once Silco has appropriately take it in, and they replaces the mask as readily as they'd taken it off. ]

Exactly.

[ Tezcatlipoca turns back to Silco with a little flourish as he shifts the large gun in his hands so that it rests casually against his shoulder.

...Though that future was short, no matter what. The Ocelomeh, this entire world, it only had a year's time left by the time Tezcatlipoca arrived and got to work. Either Chaldea would wipe it clean as they had all the other Lostbelts or he and Daybit would be successful, and ORT would consume the entire Earth. The future was finite here in Mictlan.

But even so, that's not a part he feels a need to explain. It's not the point of why he's demonstrating this to Silco. ]

I'll continue providin' for their future and push them towards an ideal civilization. But I'm not a god like Quetzalcoatl who'll dote on them just for existing either. A good future is one that's fought and bled for. Literal or otherwise.

[ He shrugs, but there's something enigmatic about his smile, though it's brief. ]

But anyways, I ain't a preachy god either, and I ain't demandin' your worship, so! Wanna have some fun? I can teach ya how to bring down a fuckin' dinosaur if you're up for huntin'.

[zauneyete]

[ Doesn't that resonate with him? Silco's lips twitch into a smile that's only a touch sharp, a touch knowing. ]

No future is worth it, if it does not involve a struggle and sacrifice. They would not appreciate it otherwise, would they? Not properly. They would think it is their due, and their right, instead of giving it the due weight.

[ It is something that Silco believes in wholeheartedly, though since Tezca has seen Zaun, he can probably understand that better than most. The tension implicit in a place where everyone has to fight for even clean air means he gets it.

Actually, Silco really believes in it. Probably why he gets along so well with Tezca.

When he perks up, and starts talking about killing dinosaurs, Silco laughed, and it's a touch wheezy. ]

Why not? We only have limited time here, do we not?

I would like to see the Ocelomeh on shimmer, as well. How they fare.

[ Can anyone blame him? (yes) ]

[fursuit]

Ha!

[ Tezcatlipoca laughs with warm delight at Silco’s bitter, vicious version of his vision. He’s at least got the sacrifice part right, but his reasons are… Well, they’re human, basically. It’s not that a future isn’t worth it, exactly. It’s that the harsh change is simply necessary. There doesn’t need to be appreciation, but there will always be sacrifice. It’s a nuance that Silco may not understand, but that’s fine. Few do.

He throws an arm around the man’s shoulder as he waves his gun in a not at all safe way around with his free arm… ]

And that’s why you’re my acolyte, you rotten bastard! [ (fond) ] You’ve almost got it, but we’ll get ya there. Or, hell, who knows, maybe if you were a god, you’d just be an evil one?

[ He laughs like it’s a teasing joke, then turns them both to look at the Ocelomeh who still stand waiting for Tezcatlipoca’s orders… And now Silco’s seemingly. ]

So, sure! Let’s get ‘em all fired up! I’ve been chasin’ Set all around, since that shit is still goin’, so let’s make a fuckin’ party out of it while we’re making a pitstop in Mictlan!

[zauneyete]

[ Silco bent over slightly at the weight of Tezca's arm, and his eyes followed the weapon rather than the words. Okay, actually, it was a little bit like being around Jinx, who didn't know the First thing about firearm safety, but maybe he was touch unused to it at this point.

Though, he did slide his eyes toward Tezca, as if to ask: is there such a thing as an evil god? (Silco, you're like besties with set) ]

Hm. Well, why don't you pick a few who would be prime candidates?

[ His hands clasped before them, he says: ]

They are your people, after all. I think the honor should be yours to choose.

[ Or really, Silco doesn't know the first thing about what their strengths and weaknesses are like, and thus, he leaves it up to Tezca to choose. ]

[fursuit]

[ Tezcatlipoca ignores how Silco’s gaze follows his gun. However, he doesn’t ignore the question that goes along with it. There’s a sharper little gleam in Tezcatlipoca’s eyes in return, and Silco might be getting a sense at this point of what that little nuance of the god means. He’s noticed something, and usually, it means he doesn’t speak to it directly. In this case, it seems like he does, eventually, but in truth… Who knows what he’s really thinking? ]

Hmm, good point. Not sure how much it matters, but ain’t bad to select ‘em.

[ He releases Silco from his grip so that he can walk up to the waiting Ocelomeh, who stand at attention how that Tezcatlipoca’s fully focused on them. He walks alongside the line and peers at them like he’s trying to discern some unseen quality, but he speaks to Silco as he goes. ]

You looked confused, though. Good and evil gods not a thing where you’re from either?

[ It’s a rhetorical question, since he knows the answer. He selects one Ocelomeh from the line, and he looks like he could already be on Shimmer with just how large he is. It’s why he’s one of the few to carry the much larger, more powerful guns. The other Ocelomeh cheer for him being chosen, naturally. ]

Pretty big deal for my place. You’ve got good and evil, order and chaos, and that’s the kinda edict that rules over gods. [ He gives a brief glance to Silco with a grin ] And lucky you! You already know one for each. Set’s evil, I’m good.

*yakety sax blasting in the distance*

[redsoil]

[ It's appropriate, to find Tezcatlipoca in the Undercity. ( In some other instance, Set would be enthralled by the Advocate Oracle's premise — he'd enjoy the idea of gallivanting across foreign lands, pouring the evidence of life and uniqueness through his fingertips as he learned of the roots that gave birth to the people who now fought as Shard-Bearer for or against these worlds. In some other instance, the Advocate would be his nemesis: what does he care, in the end, for any world but his own? That last secret that he hides deep, because it cannot be used to manipulate and encourage others to be in favor of him. )

In some other instance.

In this one, all that matters is ripping another god apart with his teeth.

He's burning up, in the Undercity. Aglow from within with something violet-violent that blackens his eyes like they've been burnt, corrupts the brilliant white-red of a deadly sun within him into a poisonous sludge. It feels amazing, it feels good to be made so lethal and bright. He'd only wanted to try it for once, at the hand of someone he trusted ( trusted, in the sense that one would trust a scorpion to sting no matter the situation ) ( the same as him, really ), and to know it for what it could offer. Now, he was incandescent with Shimmer, heat radiating off of him to burn the surfaces he'd touch, enveloping his vision in muddles images. Blurs of color and light and hideous beauty.

He can smell Tezcatlipoca in the Undercity, in the seat of Silco's once-home. The Advocate had looked upon Set and bade him choose the fate of dead worlds, to prove himself one way or another, but it's not the worlds that he is fixated on. It's the Bearers who represent them, who get to make the choices. If he were conscious, he could contort his alien mind into all sorts of reasons and rationales, but there is no mind. It's taken a lovely backseat now, leaving him tooth and claw and beautiful, lethal instinct that involves him in the middle of the Enforcer's onslaught. People die around him, Zaunite and Pilty alike, ripped limb from limb — no one can count the purity of war as its friend, truly.

Set's heading across the bridge anyways, fixated on the familiar scent of copal and night. Lunging through bodies, darting and weaving across the top of the bridge, only to sling himself off one side and use his sands to drag his form along the underside — an extension of limb, until he can get closer to Tezcatlipoca and surge back over the edge of the bridge. He bodies a pair of Enforcers on the way up, sending them flying off the edge, and immediately upon touching down onto the bridge, he lunges for the god of conflict with a pleased animal sound. The rumbling thrum of something finally, finally relaxed enough to just enjoy its most basic instinct.

( In another instance, Set would be crowing with glee: I found you, again! ]

[fursuit]

[ This world practically sings to him.

He can feel the tension in the air, the way that the people here struggle and how they hate those that oppress them. It’s the shred of omniscience that Kenos couldn’t take, though it surely wanted to. He could feel the conflict thrumming through the streets like it was his own veins.

It’s what had led him to the bridge. That might as well be the heart of it all, and he drinks it up as an observer first, since he’s not meant to take sides in matters like this, but ultimately, he can’t resist. A bullet whizzes past from Enforcer to Zaunite, and he can feel the heat of it, both the bullet and the death that follows.

So when Set appears, Tezcatlipoca has donned his pitch black armor. A dark smoke surrounds him, and we’re Set more in his right mind, it’s like the sort of thing that would call to his Savant mind deeply. After all, the bullets that are fired at him just never seem to hit, somehow. But Tezcatlipoca is more prepared for Set this time around. He whips around (and his razor sharp tail catches someone across their thigh deep enough for them to collapse) and meets Set with a grin as he leaps back out of his first, brutal strike. ]

Ha! Still runnin’ hot from Shimmer?

[ He knows Set won’t (can’t?) answer him, but it’s an expression of delight. Set is formidable on his own, but with the extra juice of Shimmer, this is now all the more fun and doesn’t carry the cosmic weight of choosing a side. So, he surges forward as soon as his feet hit the ground again and swipes with those brutal claws in quick succession. ]