[p] el cielo es azul

Tlantli Kimaris · 03-25-2012, 06:29 AM

[html]

(419)

Tlantli is by Nat!

The wheat-furred hybrid did not understand the first part of what her companion spoke. Applied to herself, she interpreted it to mean, of course, her own understanding of the spirit-world and magic transcended the false priests and priestesses of the world. Caprica could not know these things about Tlantli, however, and the statement had an entirely different meaning when applied to her, no doubt. For her fierce attitude, Tlantli's magics were not dangerous -- they did not derive their strengths from the fall of anyone but herself. She did not disbelieve the power of harnessing others' strength, but she was no vampire, as Eris Eternity was. She did not need to fill her soul with the force drained from another -- she had power enough within herself. In any case, the yellow-furred woman did not seek to dominate through spiritual means -- she had seen the outcomes of this twice before, in her homeland and in Salsola.

My home. A city old to the people who walked before us, she said. Eterne was, beyond any and all doubt, situated in a place of power: if nothing else, the lives and light of the many who had walked the soil before Eternian Luperci empowered the place. Tlantli believed it was something more, though, and she itched to cleanse the place of the false priests and false teachers who dominated her home. If you are looking for my words, something to give you... knowing, she began, strugging with her English and hesitating for a moment. Tlantli was an imperfect speaker, an accented one at all times, but it had been some time since she altogether stumbled on her words in this language.

Someone who tells you, 'I know all, follow and listen, do not think, listen to me' -- run, the woman said, punctuating the statement with a sour laugh. The world is full of false priests, false priestesses. False gods and false books. They tell you they know all, and they know only greed and lies. Your best magic, it comes from here. The woman indicated her belly, laying a hand over her liver. But here, too, she added, tapping her skull. And here, the woman said, stamping a foot against the asphalt. There, too, she said, indicating a crack where a green sprout stood defiantly against the black man-stone. I understand nothing of all this, she said, solemnly. There are no words in this tongue or my own that can give you what small things I do understand.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?