#(because they said I can't go back in until 4-6 hours after they spray the place :) but they didn't tell me when they're doing that :))
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Human Disaster Kylo, part 11
part 1 – part 2 – part 3 – part 4 – part 5 – part 6 – part 7 – part 8 – part 9 – part 10
”Darling? You awake?”
Kylo stirred. There was a hand in his hair, gently caressing him. He turned his face into the pillow. The curtains had been opened and the sun was much too bright on his face.
”Come on, sleepyhead.”
Kylo made an unhappy sound and rolled over drowsily, chasing the body heat. He opened one eye, then the other. The hazy outline of Hux was looking down at him.
Blinking rapidly brought Hux into focus and Kylo nuzzled his face into Hux's hand.
”There you are,” Hux laughed softly. He looked sleep ruffled, but very much awake.
Kylo pulled him down on top of his body, back into bed. Hux wasn't dressed yet, and Kylo greedily ran his hands over every inch of him.
”Ready to wake up?” Hux spoke softly, quietly.
Shaking his head, Kylo buried his face in Hux's neck, wrapping his arms around Hux's waist. Hux's laughter bounced off the walls, making Kylo smile.
Hux heaved a put upon sigh. ”We can't stay in bed all day, love.”
Kylo whined. ”I'm not asking for a whole day.” He pulled away from his hiding spot and looked up into Hux's face. He was smiling brightly, his skin impossibly pink against the stark white of the bedding. Kylo brushed his hair away from his face, letting the red strands get tangled between his fingers.
”Just a moment longer?”
Hux rolled his eyes playfully. ”If you must.” He spread his legs, straddling Kylo's waist easily.
Kylo easily manhandled his thin frame, moving him to his lap, where he wanted him most. Hux was soft and warm against him. Kylo looked on in wonder, as his hands easily spanned the width of Hux's thighs.
He tried to keep still, he really did. Hux made a soft sound when Kylo moved his hips enough to jostle him.
”Be good for me, love,” he whispered, bending down to speak against the shell of Kylo's ear.
Kylo gasped softly. ”'M sorry.”
Hux settled more heavily against Kylo's body, moving in his lap deliberately.
Fighting to stay still, Kylo cried, ”Hux, please. Please. I can't– Hux– Sir, I– ”
”My darling boy,” Hux whispered.
Kylo whined low in his throat. He held Hux's thighs in an iron grip, afraid of unseating him.
Hux moved unhurried, his hands cupping Kylo's face, then his throat, his chest, following the path of his hands with his lips. The scruff on his face made Kylo's skin break into goosebumps.
Kylo shuddered violently beneath him. ”Please,” he whimpered. ”Hux, please– ”
Hux trailed his fingertips down Kylo's torso, down, down, all the way down the front of his briefs.
And then his alarm started blaring.
Kylo woke with a start, hard and aching. The sheets were clinging to his legs like a second skin.
In his rush to turn off the alarm, he nearly tumbled to the floor, torso hanging heavily over the edge of the mattress.
The small, blindingly bright screen proclaimed he had recieved a new text message from Sir a few hours prior.
Hux had begun sending Kylo texts in the mornings. Hux rose early, taking care of chores, and preparations for his afternoon classes. Kylo worked afternoons and was typically asleep. Hux was aware of this, but insisted he didn't mind not recieving a reply until later.
It was barely more than pleasantries. No existential conversations at nighttime, no love confessions or deep, dark secrets; just silly observations and weird interactions they both had with other people.
”Fuck me,” Kylo muttered into his bedspread.
Lying there, halfway off his bed, he contemplated just humping the mattress and be done with it. The firm edge of the mattress was digging into his thigh, cutting off the bloodsupply. His leg was going numb.
Groaning loudly, Kylo rolled onto the floor and shook his leg to get the blood back into his leg.
Everytime he closed his eyes, Hux was still burned into the back of his eyelids. All that pale skin and dark smudges of ink, sprinkled with freckles.
Struggling into a sitting position, Kylo glared at his lap, where his cock hadn't quite gotten the memo that Hux wasn't around.
He huffed and got to his feet, dragging himself into the bathroom and into the shower. Kylo turned his face into the spray, holding his breath.
The weight of the water was pulling his hair down. It was getting too long; Kylo hadn't kept it that long since high school. The little tail he usually pulled it up into on top of his head had grown. It was long enough for a small bun now.
Cupping the back of his head, Kylo couldn't help but wonder – what would Hux think? Did Hux even like his hair?
Maybe he could text Hux and ask.
Bit of a weird thing to ask, though.
Kylo turned the knob on the shower, letting the water heat up further. The water stung his chest. He leaned back enough to get his face out of the spray.
He closed his eyes and trailed his hands down his body, finally allowing himself to touch.
Over breakfast, Kylo picked up his phone.
Kylo: do you think i should cut my hair
Hux: Pardon?
Kylo: my hair is getting long
Kylo: do you think i shoudl cut it
Hux: That depends – do you like it long?
Kylo: do you
Kylo: ?
Hux: I think your hair looks lovely, Kylo.
Well, that wasn't helpful at all. Neither was the blush Kylo was currently sporting. He put his phone away and ate his food in silence. Afterwards, he got dressed and mentally prepared himself for going to work.
–
In the early evening, Hux came by the bookstore. The sun was long gone and Kylo felt dead on his feet. He mustered a tired smile and greeted Hux, when he came to the register.
Hux was smiling.
Big.
It was unsettling.
Kylo unconsciously took a step back from the counter.
”Let me look at you,” Hux said, hands on his hips
”What?”
Hux held out his hand, urging Kylo closer. ”Let me see your hair.”
The store was closing up in an hour; hyperventilating right now would be very bad timing.
Kylo stepped back up to the counter, face burning.
Can one lose conciousness by blushing too hard? All that blood rushing to the head, surely it must be possible?
Hux hummed in thought. ”I think it looks wonderful – wouldn't you agree, Miss Pava?”
Kylo had never seen Jessika grin so big.
”I think you look very handsome, Kylo,” she said – and winked. The traitor.
In his rush to cover his face, Kylo forgot he was wearing his glasses and managed to jam them against the bridge of his nose. He hissed softly and pulled the frames off. ”Did you come all this way just to torment me?”
”That would not be out of character for me, but no.”
Kylo didn't doubt it for a second.
”I was on my way home and I was wondering if you would like to have dinner together? Order in, nothing fancy.”
Kylo looked at Hux, uncomprehending. ”Now?”
”After the store closes, yes. If you'd like?”
”I– I mean, yeah, that – yes.”
–
Living as close to work as he did, Kylo had never been more thankful for the fact, as he was in that moment. Hux being at the store with him was alright. What wasn't alright, was how Jess and Doph kept glancing at him knowingly. The last hour had been downright awful. He felt scrutinized and uncomfortable.
When he finally got to leave the store, with Hux in tow, Kylo felt jittery and unsettled.
They spoke during the walk to Kylo's apartment, but Kylo couldn't recall what about. He kept his bike in between them while they walked. Having with dinner with Hux was always nice, but also incredibly stressful. Especially after being under observation at the store.
Kylo held the door open for Hux, once they made it to his building. It was a small walk up with very few tenants.
Kylo's ears started ringing while he unlocked the door.
Once inside, Kylo suddenly felt ashamed when he saw Hux in his home. It was a small apartment. Kylo could afford bigger, but he'd chosen someplace small, so he could spend his money on other things (not that he did; it all went into his savings account). He'd imagined he might travel, at some point.
Kylo wasn't prone to panic attacks. More often than not, he had an anxious feeling in his body, but it rarely escalated.
Alas, once again, his body had perfect timing.
Kylo was vaguely aware that Hux was speaking to him, but he couldn't quite hear it. Everything was muffled, like his head was under water. Time seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time.
He came back to himself, eventually. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours.
Kylo was sitting in his desk chair.
He didn't remember sitting down.
His windows were open.
Hux was touching him. The neck of Kylo's work shirt was pulled down and Hux held his hand against his chest, over his racing heart.
It was oddly grounding.
Hux was kneeling before him, looking up at him with open concern in his eyes. ”Can you hear me?” Kylo guessed he'd been asking for a while.
Kylo closed his eyes. He curled both his hands around Hux's, pressing Hux's hand harder against his chest. ”I can hear you,” he breathed.
Hux exhaled loudly.
He wasn't wearing his coat. Kylo must've checked out for a while, if Hux had had the time to discard his coat and scarf. Kylo was still wearing his own. It was sticking to his back, drenched in sweat.
”Do you take medication?” Hux asked, voice brittle.
”No,” Kylo shook his head. ”This doesn't normally happen.”
Hux's hand felt clammy on his chest. Kylo couldn't tell which one of them the moisture was coming from.
”I'm okay.”
”Please, don't say that,” Hux sighed. ”You don't– You don't have to reassure me, Kylo, this isn't about me.”
Hux must've been uncomfortable, kneeling on the floor like that, nevertheless, Kylo couldn't make himself release Hux's hand.
”Is there anything I can do?”
God, he sounded so earnest.
”This is good,” Kylo said. He should move. He should do something. Anything.
”I would like to get you some water. Would that be okay?” The look on Kylo's face must've been bad, because he hastily added, ”I'll hold your hand again, just please, let me get you some water?”
Kylo loosened his grip enough for Hux to pull away.
In the time it took Hux to find a glass and fill it, Kylo peeled off his coat. The lining was sticking to his skin and the whole garment ended up inside out.
The glass Hux gave him was dripping, droplets running down both of their arms. Kylo forced himself to keep his focus on drinking instead of the armchair in the corner of the room, hidden underneath spare blankets and clothing. It was the only other seat in the room. Kylo felt like crying when Hux readily kneeled on the floor again.
”Not the floor, please, Hux– ”
Hux made an executive decision and grabbed the armrests on the desk chair. He pulled the chair – with Kylo still on it – across the room, so Hux could sit on the bed, yet still reach him. The bed was really too low for them to touch comfortably, but Hux wasn't deterred. He took Kylo's free hand and held it in both of his own.
”I don't have any experience with this, so if I do something wrong, tell me. I don't– It's alright if you can't talk, there's no rush. We're just gonna sit like this a minute and … and we'll take it from there.”
”I'm sorry,” Kylo whispered. His nose was starting to run, the tears would come soon enough.
”It's alright, I promise.” Hux offered him an honest to god cloth handkerchief, in exchange for the glass. ”I didn't realize it was this bad,” he murmered and placed the glass on the floor, while Kylo was being gross and snotty in his lovely handkerchief.
Kylo took a moment to get the majority of his bodily fluids under control, before he attempted to speak. ”It's not, usually. I just– You're the first person to be here other than my dad.”
”In your flat?”
Kylo nodded.
”I suppose you don't do very well with surprises,” Hux frowned. ”I did spring it on you rather last minute.”
Kylo squeezed his hand. ”I want you. I want you here, I really, really do – but it's such a mess,” he sniffled. It felt like his heart was shattering in his chest, when Hux looked at him so sadly.
”I don't care, love. Honest,” Hux said softly. ”Showing up out of the blue – I should've asked.”
Kylo blew his nose instead of apoligizing, like he wanted to.
Hux was fidgeting on the bed. ”Would it be alright if I touch you?”
”Yeah. Yes. Please.”
Ever so gently, Hux raised his hands and cupped Kylo's face. He brushed his thumbs across the tops of Kylo's cheeks, catching the moisture there. Their heights were all wrong, but Kylo was hunched over enough for the position to be possible.
”Has this happened before?”
”A few times. Not a lot.”
Hux made a soft, pained sound. ”What did you do before?”
”Call my dad, I think. It's been a really long time.”
”Would you like to call him now? I don't mind.”
How Hux continued to be the most reassuring and helpful person Kylo had ever met – even when dealing with a face full of snot and way out of his depth – was baffling.
”No, it's fine, I'm fine, this is fine,” Kylo said, but Hux was already pulling Kylo's jacket close (with his foot, so he didn't have to leave Kylo).
Hux fished the phone out of the pocket and thumbed his way through Kylo's contacts. Han was listed as Dad, so he'd easily find the right entry.
Hux paused for a moment, looking puzzled. ”Who's Sir?”
Then he recognized his own number.
”Oh.”
Kylo buried his face in his hands. ”I can explain that.”
Hux shook his head, silencing him. ”It doesn't matter. I'll go wait in the hallway and find a place that delivers. Something bland that won't upset your stomach. Talk to your da and come get me after, alright?” Hux phrased it like a question, but Kylo's phone was already ringing when he passed it to Kylo.
He cried again, when Han picked up.
But it helped, hearing his voice.
–
Kylo was exhausted when he went to get Hux from the hallway.
Hux was there in a heartbeat; before Kylo even had the time to call out for him.
”You alright?” Hux asked immediately.
”Better,” Kylo said and rubbed his eyes.
His sense of time was shot to hell at this point. Hux was holding a bag of food. He must've been on the phone for a lot longer than he'd thought; if Hux had the time to find a place and recieve the delivery.
”I really don't mind leaving,” Hux offered again.
Kylo was tired. Much too tired to even think about panic attacks. He slipped his hand into Hux's and pulled him back into the apartment. ”I'd like for you to stay.”
Hux agreed softly. He didn't fight it when Kylo crawled into bed, and tugged Hux along with him.
Kylo had closed the windows while speaking to Han. The sweat on his skin had turned tacky and cold. Shivers were running down his arms every few minutes. Hux wasn't one to let such a minute detail go unnoticed, and helped Kylo wrap himself in his duvet, without being asked.
There was no way Kylo had made himself deserve such care. If he'd had any amount of water left in his body, he would've cried again.
Once settled, Hux carefully opened the bag of food he'd procured, and pulled out forks and chopsticks.
”I got us fried rice, I hope that's okay. Can you use chopsticks?”
Hux handed him a box of rice. It had a nice smell, but subtle. Kylo took the chopsticks on offer. He'd spent a summer being dragged all over Southeast Asia by some of his extended family, while Han and Leia tried to figure out their differences. As a result, Kylo was well versed in various eating utensils (and how to swear in a handful of languages).
Hux opted for a fork.
They ate in silence for a while.
Kylo wanted to apoligize for Hux's wrinkled clothes. And for being clingy. And for Hux having to witness one of the most stupid panic attacks Kylo had experienced in recent memory. And –
”This is surprisingly good,” Hux muttered.
Kylo looked into his container. He'd ate maybe half the contents without registering what it actually tasted like.
”I wasn't quite sure what to expect,” Hux elaborated. ”Cheap Asian food; it's either amazing or absolutely dreadful. This is alright.”
He made a noncommittal sound.
Hux rested his box on his thigh. He looked at Kylo searchingly. ”How are you feeling?”
Kylo shrugged. ”Tired, I think. But also not – bad? I've been worse. But also better.”
Hux put his food on the floor, committing fully to the conversation. ”I'm sorry that me being here made you feel unsafe.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. ”Is that the right word? Unsafe?”
Kylo looked at him, eyes wide. ”I mean. I– That's part of it, yeah, but– I don't feel unsafe. With you.”
”Can you tell me what it is, then?”
”Uncertain.” Kylo frowned into his rice, then nodded to himself. ”Yeah, that's– Uncertain is better.”
Hux took the box from his hands, deposited it on the floor, and laced their fingers.
”What is uncertain to you?” he asked. He still looked breathtaking, even in the shitty lighting in Kylo's apartment.
”I'm afraid that … seeing me– Seeing this,” Kylo gestured to the mess around them, ”would make you change your mind. Or finally see what a goddamn mess this is. What a mess I am.”
”Kylo,” Hux breathed. His face had crumbled while Kylo was looking the other way. He looked heartbroken. ”Don't say that,” he whispered. ”How could you possibly think that?”
Swallowing thickly, Kylo touched Hux's slacks. ”You know what you look like, Hux. I've seen your place, your colleagues – I'm not like you. Not at all.”
”I don't want to date myself, Kylo! I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't like myself all that much.”
Kylo was certain he would've swallowed his own tongue, if it wasn't currently stuck to the roof of his mouth.
”I don't want anyone else, I want you.”
Flustered, Kylo said, ”But, my dad– You told my dad– ”
”I was playing hard to get!” Hux cried out. ”Clearly, I should've just confessed it all, right then and there,” he added, under his breath.
Was he crying again? His face felt wet.
Hux ran his hands through his hair, breathing deliberate and even. ”I want to take you out. On a date– A proper date. Dinner neither of us can afford, awkward conversation over food we would never eat if we were alone, chaste unsatisfying kiss on the doorstep – all of that.”
Kylo had no idea what his face was doing, too shocked to control much of anything. ”Does it have to be chaste?” he thought out loud.
They gaped at each other for a long moment, before Hux laughed in disbelief.
”No, I guess you wouldn't want that; I'm saved in your phone as Sir, you kinky little shite.”
Kylo was blushing profusely and hid his face in his hands. ”It made sense at the time, okay!”
”Come here, you,” Hux said, and unwound Kylo from his cocoon. He wrapped his skinny arms tightly around Kylo's neck, and pulled him out to kiss him.
Kylo was startled, the kiss turned out awkward and rushed – and absolutely perfect.
Hux lips were greasy from the food, Kylo couldn't breathe properly through his nose, the duvet was stuck betweem them, Kylo's hair was definitely stuck in the button on Hux's shirt cuff.
It was the best kiss Kylo had ever had.
on to part 12
(also on ao3)
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harmonic orchestra, the gen edition (pt 1)
yeah you know the drill by now, here’s the gen fills
AO3
-
1 (acatl – autistic)
His tutors all said the same things about him—what a smart boy, what a studious boy, he'll go far in the priesthood. Acatl supposed they were probably correct about that; he was smart, he was studious, and he threw himself into the rituals with a fervor that annoyed the nobles' sons who were only there for power. They didn't understand how he could ponder the codices for hours, how he could sit silent as the statue of Lord Death and watch the funeral pyres burn.
He didn't understand it himself, really; all he knew, in those moments when he contemplated the inside of his own mind, was that having it consumed by devotion to the gods felt right.
-
2 (teomitl & chalchiuhnenetl – a deal with the devil)
"I can give you the crown you deserve," his elder sister says.
Teomitl thinks of their brother on the throne, twisted and craven; he is no fit warrior, no fit Emperor, no fit conduit of Huitzilopochtli's power in the Fifth World, but to slay him and take the crown by force of arms would be treason, would no doubt sever the ties between Teomitl and the people who, somehow, love him.
But if he doesn't, Tizoc will twist and twist until he tears the Empire apart, and Teomitl's loved ones will not be alive to hate him...so he meets his sister's eyes, and nods his assent.
-
3 (acatl – awkward formal dinners)
There are many reasons for Acatl, High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli, to hate formal banquets—the heavy formal regalia, the noblemen not-so-subtly sneering at the jumped-up peasant in their midst, the certain knowledge that there is political scheming going on somewhere and it's sure to bite him in the ass just when he least expects it—but top of the list has to be the seating arrangements, because he is sharing a mat with the high priests of Huitzilopochtli and Tlaloc and he hates both of them to a depth unplumbed by any line.
When Quenami smiles his oily smile and asks how he's been lately, as though Acatl's forgiven him for the time he almost had him executed for treason, Acatl has to resist the urge to drown him in his own soup bowl. No matter how satisfying it would be, it won't help for long.
Acamapichtli sighs heavily as he meets his eye—Quenami is still talking, Southern Hummingbird blind him—and for a split second there is understanding between them. Though I loathe you and everything you stand for, that look says, I’ll at least credit you with not being Quenami.
4 (teomitl & acatl – well seasoned)
It's simple food—tamales stuffed with duck and chilies—but Acatl made it, so when he offers some to Teomitl...well, of course he'll eat it and be happy even if it turns out to be terrible, because he knows for a fact that it's been made with love instead of poison which therefore puts it miles ahead of anything the palace kitchen gives him.
"This is delici—"
And that's how he finds out that Acatl, unlike everyone else in Tenochtitlan and probably the world, has absolutely no upper limit on how hot he likes his chili peppers.
-
5 (acatl – relaxing)
His nieces and nephews are splashing in the pool, water spraying the air, as Teomitl and Mihmatini chase after them; Acatl doesn't worry, because he knows they'll be safe with those two looking after them. He knows the world will be safe, too; for the moment, he has nothing to do but relax and occasionally nibble a piece of fruit from the tray by his knee. It’s almost a foreign sensation, but not an unwelcome one.
Feeling warm in every limb—feeling, for once, content—Acatl closes his eyes and tilts his face to the sun.
-
6 (teomitl & acatl – if I didn’t have you)
Sometimes, Teomitl thinks about the man he might have become if he'd never met Acatl—proud to the point of arrogance, bravery turned to recklessness, no fit inheritor to even be considered for the throne—and he has to shudder in horror. One look at Tizoc (at his brother, gods, the thought sickens him now that they came from the same parents), at his excesses and paranoia, reminds him how close he could have come to falling. (It would have been easy. It terrifies him to think how easy it would have been.)
"You were the greatest teacher I could have ever had," he tells Acatl, and means it with all his heart.
-
7 (mihmatini & acatl – saying I love you without words)
"I ate," her older brother tells her, and Mihmatini sighs and rolls her eyes. She knows Acatl too well by now not to also know that his last meal was probably a full day ago, half stale, and not nearly filling enough for a man whose day job involves running across half of Tenochtitlan slaying monsters and dealing with the magical strain of keeping the world in one piece.
She sets a hand on his shoulder, keeping him firmly in place, and fills his bowl with a serving of the spicy grilled newts she knows he likes. "Eat something anyway."
-
8 (quenami – is that the hill you’re going to die on?)
The really funny thing, Quenami reflects idly, isn't that Acatl is still protesting his innocence—he's always been stubborn to a fault, and far too principled for his own good.
No, the funny thing is that Acatl, for some reason (probably because he, as a principled man, thinks others can be swayed by things like reason and logic) thinks they actually care, as though the results of the upcoming trial will be anything other than a foregone conclusion. Of course he'll die claiming his unwavering loyalty to the Empire, but it doesn't matter—he'll be dead anyway, and Quenami will never have to deal with him again.
The trial is in the morning. He can barely wait.
-
9 (teomitl – shadow of the crown)
He turns the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown over and over in his hands, tracing the intricate mosaic of blue stones with remarkably steady fingers. He thinks, distantly, that there should be blood on it—that his brother's passing should have stained it irreparably, even though Teomitl had, in the end, nothing at all to do with his demise. (He’s not sure who did. It might have been the She-Snake. It might have been any one of Tizoc’s enemies. It might even be Acatl, for all he knows—not that he’d mind if it was.)
The sun gleams on the metal, but when he finally sets it on his head he still feels cold.
-
10 (acatl – too tired to sleep)
He was tired down to his bones—no, past his bones, tired all the way down to every part of his soul—but sleep stubbornly refused to come. No matter how much he tossed and turned on his mat, no matter how much he desperately wished for unconsciousness, the room was too warm or his neck hurt or, for all he knew, the stars weren't in position for him to succumb.
Fighting the urge to beat his head against the ground—it wouldn't help, and would just make him sore in addition to his rising ill-temper—he rolled over again and buried his head in the crook of his arm until sunrise.
-
11 (teomitl & mihmatini – almost beyond repair)
He's standing in front of his wife, sword in the dirt between them, and he knows this can't ever be fixed—that he was too greedy, reached too far, foolishly thought it would all come together when the people he loved knew, knew, that it was falling apart.
Mihmatini meets his eyes, her own gaze absolutely furious, and asks, "Why? Why did—what in the gods' names possessed you to think this was all a good idea? Tizoc-tzin is unfit to be Emperor, that's true, we all know it—but for you to think to kill him—"
"He was going to kill Acatl." It comes out in a rush, without any prior planning or thought on his part, but it's the truth. Tizoc might be his Emperor, his brother, but he tried to execute Acatl for treason and that's not something Teomitl will ever forgive.
And Mihmatini, who loves her older brother as much as Teomitl does, stares at him for a long, long moment...and then she nods. "Understandable."
Maybe, Teomitl thinks, this can be salvaged after all.
-
12 (acatl – a moment’s peace)
The funeral was officially over, but the pyre still burned hot; it would keep burning until Coyolli of the Atempan calpulli was reduced to ashes, and then he and his fellow priests would see her remains interred. Acatl sat by the pyre, upwind from the smoke, and finally took a long, deep breath.
His work was not done, but the drums had stopped and the wailing of the dead woman's relatives no longer rang in his ears, and so—for the moment—he could rest.
“Acatl-tzin?”
Ah. One of his priests with a question. He closed his eyes, permitted himself a small sigh, and got to his feet again.
-
13 (teomitl & acatl – doing math in your head)
"Hmmm...let me see...our suspect was born on the third day of Izcalli in the year Five Rabbit, which makes him an…"
"Eight Monkey."
Teomitl lifted his head from the sheet of bark paper on which he was carefully and laboriously calculating the interactions between the civil and liturgical calendars, staring incredulously at his teacher—his teacher who, quite plainly, had just done some very complicated math in his head. "Acatl-tzin. How in the fuck."
"Language," he said, but he was smiling. "And practice. I can teach you that as well, if you'd like."
"Most people can't do math in their heads!"
-
14 (teomitl – unexpected forgiveness)
The cup of chocolate is bitter and spicy in his hands, and Teomitl doesn't drink. He can't—they're not safe, not really, not with Tizoc undying on his throne and him awaiting his chance to topple him. Even if it risks breaking their Empire, it will save them in the long run, he knows this...but he promised Acatl, he promised to give Tizoc time for his reign to stabilize, and he won't go back on his word. (He won't disappoint him, not again; he never, ever wants to see that look of heartbroken fury in Acatl's eyes.)
But when he smiles at Acatl...oh, Acatl smiles back, even now, even after he's fucked up so comprehensively that he's amazed the man has forgiven him, and suddenly the world seems just that little bit brighter.
-
15 (tizoc – from the pov of the villain)
He is the Revered Speaker of Tenochtitlan, like his brother and grandfather were before him—cities as far away as the Maya lands pay him tribute, and at his command armies rise and kingdoms fall. All should fall before him, for is he not Tizoc-tzin? Is he not the man who channels Huitzilopochtli's power in the Fifth World? The sun rises at the edge of his blade!
But he lifts the sacrificial knife and there is barely even a glimmer, while his brother—reckless, foolhardy Teomitl, who's too soft, who's gone and married that peasant's daughter and raised her brother above his rightful place as the lowest of the three High Priests—shines like Tonatiuh Himself by his side.
-
16 (acatl – good night, midnight)
The conch shells blare once at the turn of the night, the hour that separates one day from the next, and Acatl rises from his mat alone and in silence.
Alone and in silence he eats a meal of thin flatbread and (cold) roasted peppers, savoring the bite and the burn of them as they fill his belly. Alone and in silence, he bathes himself in cold water (cold as the peppers had been) and forces a comb through the tangles in his long, wet hair.
He doesn't let himself remember hot meals with his family, doesn't let himself imagine gentle hands rubbing his shoulders or tilting his head back to comb his hair for him. He is High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli, and here under the shroud of midnight that is all he'll ever be.
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