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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 19

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-18 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: psychological whump, emotional whump, memory whump, angst... like so much, Lyrem centric chapter

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CHAPTER NINETEEN: A BLAST FROM THE PAST

Daffodils and tiger lilies.

Lyrem had to admit that they went well together. The sunshine colours would brighten the deathly cold winter’s day in an instant, and he desperately needed some warmth right now. The frigid January day was threatening to bring him under the tide of darkness. He had been away for a while. A job that was supposed to take a week turned into a month of running around and making deals with all sorts to please a certain U.S. senator. A republican, no less. He was dying to have Maria back in his arms again. It had been too long.

The radio lit up on its own.

“-great start to 1991 from Janet Jackson, folks! Next up we have Madonna with ‘Justify My Love’”-

“Scared?”

Paimon appeared in the passenger seat. Lyrem looked past him to glance at the bright yellow door at the end of the walkway. The snow had been cleared already, and the lights in the house were all out save for the porch.

“Why would I be scared?” he asked.

“You missed Christmas. Women love Christmas. They build up so much hope and sing Baby Please Come Home!” Paimon chuckled. “And you know, if you’re not coming, then she might be singing it to someone else- in more ways than one, if you know what I mean.”

Lyrem scowled at him and opened his truck door. It closed with a loud creaking at the hinges and being stupid in the moment, re-opened the door to retrieve the lovely blooms that he had picked out.

“She’s my true love,” he stated, peering in to Paimon. “Isn’t that what you promised me? She’d never hurt me like that. She’d never betray me.”

“She’s not a robot, Lyrem, she’s a human being with control over her own choices. Even true love can’t compete with free will.” Paimon shrugged and forced a small smile. “But, you know, perhaps she’s one of those really special ones. You best take care of her.”

Lyrem grew disgusted at the insinuation and slammed the door. Paimon had already vanished into thin air.

Before he realized it, he was facing the yellow door, and holding the flowers close to shield them from the cold. The door was unlocked, and he stepped through. It was just after dinner-time. Something about the house felt wrong. There was too much energy. Lyrem wasn’t much of a psychic, but he could feel the heat in the air- oppressive and… suffocating. The words that Paimon had spoken lingered in the back of his mind- or maybe it was the front of his mind disguised as the back of his mind…

Get rid of the thoughts Lyrem. They are not yours-

He turned, kicking off his shoes and flicked on the light.

“SURPRISE!”-

He ditched the flowers, and pressed his back against the door. Lyrem prepared to defend himself with a knife that would have been on his person if it weren’t for security confiscating it as he tried to take it as carry-on. The rest of the lights in the house lit themselves with the help of some extra hands from recognizable faces- but Lyrem was on high-alert. They may as well have been strangers. In reality, they were friends.

Well, Maria’s friends. Lyrem didn’t have any friends- not human friends.

There was a bright flash of light, that caught his scowling glare and froze it in time. The grinning face of a dark-haired man looked back at him over the camera as it spit out a polaroid.

Slowly, Lyrem caught himself up. There were streamers of bright colours draped along the ceiling and a shining banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY hung across the entranceway to the living room. Realizing that his reaction to the event was less than ideal, he smiled. Maria popped in front of him, escaping her hiding spot from behind the couch.

“What… what is all this?” Lyrem started. He knew what it was. It was his 42nd Birthday, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled.

“It’s your birthday, you goose!” Maria wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him quickly on the lips.

“Right.” He picked up the flowers off the floor, and handed them to her, in a less ceremonial fashion than he was hoping.

“Awe, aren’t you sweet.” She accepted them and played with the petals idly. “You forgot last year’s too, but this time, when I heard you’d be coming home, I knew you couldn’t miss out on Christmas and a birthday party! Just wouldn’t be right.” She ran off into the kitchen, abandoning him.

The rest of the guests, couples mostly milled about and filtered into the hall. Lyrem nodded and smiled to them kindly.

“Good trip?”

He nodded, taking the questions like a politician surrounded by nosey reporters.

“Where did you have to go this time?” Kelly, a blonde lady with thick lenses in her bright pink bifocals inquired of him. Her husband wrapped an arm around her waist. Lyrem always forgot his name but it was something very basic. He was the one with the camera.

Valhalla. “Norway,” he replied.

“Remind me, what is it that you do again, Lyrem?” the husband asked.

“I’m… a liaison. A third-party negotiator of sales. Very boring work, I assure you.”

“Oh? What kind of sales?”

“Depends on the client,” he answered shortly. “I’m a freelancer.”

“Happy Birthday, to you… Happy Birthday, to you…

Happy Birthday, dear Lyremmm, Happy Birthday too you!”

The chorus of voices broke out amongst the chit-chat as Maria carried the cake all the way into the hall. It was lit up and lighting up her face. Kelly’s husband lifted the camera, and snapped a quick photo.

“What are you all still doing in the hallway?” She snapped playfully. “Get in the dining room already so we can eat cake and play Pictionary.”

They all filtered off to the dining room to the side of the Georgian style house. Kelly ran off to bring in the wine that had been left chilling in the fridge. Her husband handed off the pictures to Lyrem.

“This one of you didn’t turn out, I don’t know what happened. Your face went all black and fuzzy- but this one of Maria’s looking pretty cute, eh?”

Lyrem took the photos graciously and clicked his tongue.

“Philly, could you open this one for me?” Kelly ushered her husband away to help with the wine bottles. She giggled out loud and sneered. “I have the worst grip.”

“Lyrem!” Maria scolded. “You need to blow out your candles! Make a wish!”

He sighed. He wished that the party would be over. He wished that these people would go home. He wished he could get a night alone with his fiancée. He wished that he could find something… anything that would bring him comfort. Then, he wished he wasn’t constantly wondering if he was a bad man.

And that was all he wished even before he reached the end of the table.

By the time he leaned over the cake he was completely out of wishes, but blew out the candles anyway. Maria smiled. He loved it when she did that.

The room went dark, delving into the shadows and engulfed by the confusion, Lyrem blinked, and realized suddenly that he wasn’t back in the old Georgian house, with Maria and surrounded by friends and… Phillip.

. . . . . . . .

“No, go back!” A light voice said through the dark.

“Persephone, it is unkind to spy on the lives of others, even if they are guests in our realm”-

“Pfft,” the higher voice brushed off the scolding lower one. “This isn’t our realm and you know it.”

“Nevertheless, he is our guest. We ought to treat him with respect.”

“But I want to see them kiss again”-

“Persephone, stop”-

. . . . . . .

Lyrem almost woke, but was jolted back to a time… different than his birthday and he lost control over his own mind once again.

They were awake and lying in their bed, bodies bare and snuggling beneath the quilts as the powdery snow fell, piling against the bedroom window and onto the boughs of the trembling aspen outside. It was a bit less than a year later. They were married now. The little gold ring was on his finger and hers matched just as simply. Carolers were outside, they were a week too early, but then, he didn’t mind the soft sounds that seemed to leak their way in through the window on the second floor.

He wasn’t looking out the window, entertained by counting the snowflakes like she was. He was enjoying her, watching her. Kissing her olive skin and wrapping himself in closer to her back as one hand played with her soft hair and the other stroked her waist. He felt like himself. He felt warm, and safe, and loved.

“I have to tell you something.”

He stopped kissing. Maria rolled over to face him and stared into his eyes. Suspiciously, he leaned his head away from hers and she pursed her lips nervously.

“What do you need to tell me?” he prompted.

Maria took a long breath, putting Lyrem on edge.

“You were gone a long time for this last client, you know? I didn’t have a lot to do, and I tried to start my own travel company after Jet Rover let me go. I tried to stay busy… you know?”

Lyrem nodded and swallowed. The travel agency went bankrupt soon after. Maria had been left by the wayside to pick up her life and start something new just before Lyrem needed to travel out to Belize for work. He came back with one hell of a tan. The tone of her voice grew shakier. The anxiety was growing stronger for both of them.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He said gently. He was gone too often. For too long. Dammit all. He should have told Paimon to shove it instead of going along with his ridiculous schemes. Huitzilopochtli, an Aztec God of War, never did end up striking a deal with them to give the Pentagon a little morale boost after all. Lyrem ended up losing money in that charade too. Not the wisest bet he had ever made. He wouldn’t blame her for leaving him- for sleeping with another man. These winters were hell on earth, after all-

“I bought a place,” she said.

Lyrem twisted his face-

“You bought a place?” he repeated, confused. They had a place. It was a beautiful place. He wasn’t always in it either. She didn’t need her own place.

“On seventeenth. I thought to myself, you know, there is no point in me wandering around and trying to make a living for myself in travel if you’ll be off travelling for work too. And I can’t just eat, cook, and clean for myself all the time- I’d lose my mind so... I’m starting a business!”

“Oh,” Lyrem’s eyes grew wide, and then interested. “What kind of business?”

“I… I don’t know yet”- Maria grinned excitedly, glad that his interest was showing. “I just bought the space on a whim. I don’t even really know why. I just needed to do something.”

“Well… That certainly is something.”

“You don’t like the idea?” She asked. Puzzled by his sudden change in demeanour, taking it as a briefly condescending tone.

“No, no. It’s not that. I just…” he was lost in thought as the air grew chilled. He watched the skin on her shoulder pebble up as she sighed.

“You thought I was about to tell you I was pregnant,” she surmised.

“Mm.” he nodded, even if it wasn’t true.

The thought of having children had crossed his mind. She wasn’t as old as he was. It wouldn’t be so risky to bring kids into this world except-

“Not really on my mind, you know that,” she commented in a rush.

He nodded again.

“I know… But what if we did try?” the words fell out of his mouth suddenly and without much thought. Entertaining the idea of being a father was something that he often did before Maria had announced her opposition to the idea. Perhaps something had changed in her since she was let go from Jet Rover Travel Inc.

She turned away from him, focusing on the snow as it fell from one white blanket to another.

“I just... I don’t want to be a mother,” she said quietly.

He didn’t remember how painful this moment was. Though quiet in her refusal, his heart was still brutally torn open by her words. That was her choice, and he would respect it. That didn’t make the reality any less painful to accept. True love didn’t include a perfect family. There wasn’t a written agreement for something like this, but if he wanted Maria to be happy, he would have to learn to live with her decision. He rolled off his side of the bed.

“It’s fucking freezing in here, isn’t it?” he commented, rubbing one eye. “I’m going to turn up the heat.”

. . . . .

“Are you happy, now?” the voice from the darkness asked.

“No, I thought there was more love here than that”- the light voice said annoyed. “Ugh! Did I skip over something?”

“Look at what you put him through, the man is crying.”

Lyrem searched the darkness as it quickly enveloped him once again. He remembered his place, a dead man reliving his time with Maria and how it had been squandered and painted with resentment.

He always imagined it happier than this.

“The poor thing was enraptured by her- there’s just something so bittersweet about that.”

“Hey!” Lyrem shouted into the air angrily. “I can hear you, you know!”

There was a low grunt from somewhere in the darkness. “We cannot waste our time. We need to find the right moment. The one with his call, or else we will never be able to find him again.”

Lyrem spun around. There was nothing. Nothing up, nothing down, nothing anywhere. The voices, however, emerged from every direction.

“Find who?!” Lyrem called out, brimming with frustration and an added vulnerability to the idea that these intruders could see whatever they wanted.

“Fine,” Persephone settled reluctantly. Slowly, her voice faded away. “But I get to watch their wedding after! I want to see a happy ending after all this sadness…”

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notapaladin · 3 years

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it’s love and it’s decisive pain

I wanted to write a) pining, b) acatl having a fun night with his family and c) acatl making the full and conscious choice that Yes This Is A Relationship He Wants with teomitl. (yes, also I wanted to use “sunlight” by hozier as a fic title bc it is the MOST teocatl song) 5k words later, this fell out.

Can also be read on AO3!

Family game night had been Mihmatini’s idea.

Or...well, originally, in much better times, it had been Neutemoc’s idea, but the reinstitution of the event had been all Mihmatini’s. “It’s been nearly three years,” she’d said. “Shouldn’t we try to get together as a family again?”

And Neutemoc had agreed.

Acatl was officially invited on a night when, for once, he had something resembling free time. He’d combed his hair and set out earlier than necessary, hoping to catch Teomitl and Mihmatini on their way. Acatl had thought he should probably warn the man—they could be both boisterous and vicious when all of them played patolli together, and he was sure Teomitl was accustomed to a good deal less graphic language and a great many more serious threats over the game board—but when he actually met him alone on the street near Neutemoc’s house, he found he had bigger problems.

Teomitl had dressed up. This is fine, Acatl told his heart sternly. You are not to escape my ribcage because Teomitl is a handsome young man. It had never worked. It certainly wasn’t working now. They were on a dark, quiet street where the neighbors kept themselves to themselves, and Acatl couldn’t stop staring at his brother-in-law.

There was gold at his wrists and on his fingers—he’d kept himself to a bracelet on each wrist and a minimum of rings, but they still gleamed in the sunlight. His cloak was the red afforded to him as the Master of the House of Darts, but the design had been woven in smaller seashells and arrow symbols instead of the huge ones that proclaimed his station to every passerby. He wore earflares Acatl hadn’t seen on him before, too, and from the way the light shimmered on them he was sure there was magical protection involved.

His sister was nowhere in sight. Before the silence could get too awkward—he was aware he’d been staring, aware he couldn’t stop himself—he asked, “Where’s Mihmatini?” Please be nearby. Surely I’d embarrass myself less with an audience. Unlikelier things had happened.

Teomitl glanced down the street, which didn’t help because even the curve of his neck was a distraction. “She ran on ahead; she said she had to help set up.” Judging by the expression on his face, this was a matter of some mild trepidation.

He couldn’t blame him. “Did she tell you what to expect?”

“...The phrase ‘pack of screaming howler monkeys’ was used.”

He winced, but he couldn’t honestly say it was incorrect. “...Rude, but essentially accurate. At least you’ll only have to deal with three of us; it is much more...vibrant when the rest of the family gathers.” There were four sisters between himself and Mihmatini, and though he rarely spent any time with them—they were all married with their own families and very little time for the older brother who’d so disappointed their parents by joining the priesthood—when they were all together they tended to feed off each other’s shared enthusiasm for patolli, and the end result usually included someone laughing until they cried.

Teomitl actually smiled a little at that. “Which is why I’m wearing things I don’t mind losing.”

His gaze fell to all that finery again. Teomitl’s lip plug was gold as well, a rounded disc with an eagle’s head carved on it. He tried not to focus on the shape of his mouth above it. “We...we play for tokens,” he began. “So you don’t have to worry.” It didn’t stop the sudden mental image of Teomitl throwing his gold and jewels atop his shed cloak, skin gleaming in torchlight. No. Enough of that. He swallowed. “Are those earflares new?”

Oh, no. Teomitl was still smiling, and now the curve of his lips was teasing. “Mm-hmm. Do you like them?”

And he drew closer and tilted his head, the better to show them off. They were also decorated with eagles, but with the whole body of the bird picked out in turquoise chips. Acatl exhaled at the sight. He’d been right about the magic; if he let his eyes drift out of focus, he could just about see the shape of Huitzilopochtli’s flames shimmering over the gold. The earflares’ rims were quite thick, the better to fit even more glyphs on them.

I want to see what they say, came his first conscious thought. He was far too aware of how close they were—too close—but he couldn’t make himself step back. Couldn’t make himself do anything, in fact, except reach up and slowly trace the rims with his thumb, turning them up for a better view. They’d been skillfully done, and he had to lean in close enough that a stray strand of Teomitl’s hair tickled his face. Whatever Teomitl used to keep it clean made him want to nuzzle it.

“Oh,” he breathed, “the carvings are…”

“Protective charms.” There was a faint tremor in Teomitl’s voice, which he might never have picked up normally—but their heads were nearly touching, and the only sounds on the street were their own. Everything was heightened, right down to the feeling of the warm metal against his skin.

It was dark where they stood, the walls of nearby buildings casting them both in shadow. He leaned in, heard Teomitl’s breath hitch, and stopped. We should go. My family is waiting. That would be the good decision, the logical decision.

Instead, his thumb slipped from its slow circling of Teomitl’s earrings to caress his earlobe instead, and it was his turn to feel his own breath catch in his throat. Soft—the skin was astonishingly soft here, marred only by the thin scab of that morning’s bloodletting. It was healing well, but when he drew his thumb over it Teomitl gasped. It didn’t sound pained.

His gaze dropped to his face anyway. Teomitl was staring at him wide-eyed, breathless, and gods, but he wanted to see that face again. So he repeated the motion, a little harder this time, and saw the man draw in a long, deep breath. Oh, you’re sensitive. The knowledge intoxicated him further. He curled his fingers, tracing the shell of Teomitl’s ear as lightly as he dared, and heard Teomitl make a soft noise. A wanting noise.

He could barely think past the pounding of his own blood in his veins. All considerations—they were on a public street, his family was waiting, this was his brother-in-law, the man who he’d told people was like a son to him—felt as far away and inconsequential as the rustling of ants through grass. His fingers trailed achingly slowly down the side of Teomitl’s neck, following the line of his jugular and feeling his pulse thump steadily against his fingertips. His thumb came to rest on the other side, such that he held Teomitl’s throat in the loosest of loose grips.

“Mmhm…” The sound that escaped Teomitl’s lips was barely even audible. He wasn’t pulling away. In fact, he was leaning into it, and Acatl felt himself caught as surely as a jaguar would take a deer.

He felt frozen. If he leaned in, spoke, lifted his other hand, the spell between them would be broken and whatever they were doing would end. Whatever they were—he didn’t think about that. He didn’t think about anything except the soft skin under his fingers, how they were so close that he could feel the warmth rolling off him, how much he wanted to be closer still.

He wasn’t looking at the earflares anymore. He didn’t even remember what they looked like. Teomitl’s eyes were dark and hazy, his lips slightly parted, and all he could think was Yes. Yes, please.

He wanted to taste those lips. It would be easy. It would be so easy.

A pink tongue darted out, and he made a noise of his own. “Gnh.”

“...Acatl.” His name on Teomitl’s tongue, said like that, sent a shiver through him. “...I…”

Approaching footsteps broke through the haze. Someone was coming.

Acatl jerked backwards, heart hammering so frantically in his chest that he wondered for a moment if he might faint. He felt the loss of Teomitl’s skin under his hand as keenly as he might feel the loss of the hand in question, but there was no time for that now. Nothing happened. Nothing happened. It’s fine, we’re fine, nothing happened. He closed his eyes; it was easier to regain his equilibrium if he couldn’t see whatever look of dismayed horror was surely on Teomitl’s face right now.

And of course it was Mihmatini doubling back to pick them up. Of course. Because his life was already going so well. Worse, she sounded so cheerful there was absolutely no way she even suspected what he’d been about to do. (With her husband. That fact bore repeating.) “There you are, Acatl! Come on, the first course will get cold.”

He made himself smile at her. “We’re coming.”

It was a short walk to Neutemoc’s house. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Teomitl until they arrived. No—it was more accurate to say that he didn’t look at him. Looking at him would have been easy; the man drew his eye like a single shaft of sunlight piercing the darkness, all easy, radiant warmth, and if he let himself he could stare for hours. So he very deliberately did not. He couldn’t help being attracted to him, but he could damn well help how he reacted to it.

Aside from that shameful display. He huffed out a breath as he walked, keeping his eyes on the canal flowing beside the street. He’d made his decision long ago, when he’d first realized that familial was absolutely not an appropriate way to describe his feelings towards Teomitl—the man had his own life, and Acatl had his, and he wouldn’t ruin either of them by forcing an unwanted connection. There were simply too many ways it could go wrong, too many reasons why it was a terrible idea. The risks far outweighed any brief benefits.

And then the lights of Neutemoc’s house spilled out into the street, and he had no more time for self-recrimination. Family dinner and game night had begun.

Dinner was, of course, delicious. A trifle awkward at first—it always was, because he could never really be sure of Neutemoc’s welcome truly extending to him as well—but then his brother clapped him on the shoulder and bade them all sit, and the awkwardness passed in time for him to enjoy the food. While Neutemoc still hadn’t remarried, his kitchen slaves were more than capable of putting out an excellent spread of fish, frogs, tamales, peppers, and all the tasty things that made life worth living.

It was not a silent affair; while he’d never been one for much conversation over a meal (he only had one mouth and he was busy putting food in it, thank you) his family had no such concerns. Particularly not the children; Necalli and Mazatl attached themselves to either side of Teomitl as soon as he sat down, ready to bombard him with questions. It was a wonder he even had time to eat, but eat he did—in between happily telling Necalli the less gory details of his last campaign and assuring Mazatl that yes, it was true that his sisters had different sets of jewelry for every day of the week, but she didn’t want to grow up to be like them because they were all very, very mean.

Acatl looked up from his plate at that to meet Mihmatini’s eyes, and they shuddered in unison. Chalchiuhnenetl.

It wasn’t a cloud that lingered for long; Neutemoc asked how things were going at their respective temples, and so of course they had to answer. There wasn’t much to tell; things had been blissfully boring lately, and Acatl would have been more than pleased by that if it hadn’t also left him with far too much free time to think. He’d not wanted to spend much time in his own head since…

His gaze drifted to where Teomitl sat. Well. Since I realized that.

He was suddenly very, very glad that Teomitl sat on the other side of the table between two small children. The man was chuckling fondly at whatever Necalli had just said, and the sight was so endearing it made his heart clench painfully in his chest. Damn you, he thought bitterly, unsure whether he meant the organ in his chest or the man that had caused it to beat so hard. I did not ask for this.

Then Mihmatini asked him how he’d met her predecessor, and he was sufficiently distracted not to think about Teomitl again until the meal was over and they hit a snag in their preparations for the night’s patolli games. Namely, bundling the children off to sleep.

Necalli went easily enough, but Neutemoc had to pause, sigh, and gesture for his daughter to follow when he realized she’d been left behind. “Off to bed with you, Mazatl.”

“I’m not tired,” she whined, and flopped bonelessly against Teomitl’s side.

Teomitl chuckled, patting her head. “Of course you aren’t. But it’s going to get very loud in here in a bit, and you don’t like loud noises, do you?”

She shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”

“Then go to your room.”

She heaved a sigh that came from the depths of her soul (and had definitely been inherited from her father), but obligingly sat up and let Neutemoc carry her to her mat. When they were gone, Teomitl was still looking after them a little wistfully. Finally, he announced, “She’s adorable. I want a dozen children just like her.”

Mihmatini looked up from her cup of maguey sap. “Find more wives to give them to you, then.”

Acatl had never actually seen someone choke on his own spit before. It was not an attractive look, and he wished heartily that it didn’t make him feel so terribly soft. Finally Teomitl spluttered, “Mihmatini!” and she only fixed him with a long and steady look that was slightly ruined by her repressed smile.

“You forget, I’ve spent a lot of time looking after my nieces and nephews. I think two or three little Mazatls are enough from me.”

Teomitl was blushing as he muttered, “Well. That’s...alright. I guess.”

Acatl had to look away, guilt twisting his stomach into a knot. Right. They are married. They love each other still, no matter how rocky things were for a while there. They’ll have a home and children together, a life together. When Teomitl is Revered Speaker, he’ll take even more wives and have the dozens of children he wants from them. That’s how it should be. He’d never look twice at another man, even if...even if back there, I thought…

“I found the board and the pieces. Shall we?”

He’d never been so glad to see Neutemoc, and all but shot to his feet. “Yes, of course.”

They had to play patolli in the receiving room; there simply wasn’t enough floor space in the dining room, and the beans had a tendency to bounce under tables or rugs and be lost for weeks. One time one of them had actually sprouted. But this time the board was set up properly, and everyone had their own painted pieces, and the first throws of the beans to begin the game set the starting rounds firmly in Neutemoc’s favor.

Until, that was, Acatl’s luck turned. Neutemoc was getting cocky, always a mistake in games of chance, and so he didn’t notice when one of his pieces was removed from play until he looked down at the board again. Immediately his brother’s head snapped up, fixing him with a savage glare. “You.”

He felt a broad and—alright—mildly evil grin split his face. It had been far, far too long since he’d indulged in the no-holds-barred ruthlessness of games with family he was on good terms with. “Should have paid more attention to all your pieces.”

It was Mihmatini’s turn, but since she wasn’t in position to take their pieces yet Neutemoc snarled, “You’re a bastard.”

He huffed, “Are you insulting our parents?!”

“I’m not so sure you weren’t left on our doorstep!”

“Aunt Miyahuatl attended my birth!”

“Hmph—oh, look.” Neutemoc’s turn had come around again, and he turned a mirror of Acatl’s own grin back at him as the piece he’d just set down was plucked from the board.

Acatl blinked down at it. “How the hell—“

“You were distracted.” Neutemoc’s grin only widened, and he had to fight the desire to pick up the nearest cushion and beat him around the head with it. They’d done that plenty of times as children, but then it hadn’t been cushions. There’d been no chance of affording those.

“What’s it feel like to play?” Teomitl muttered. He’d gotten a few of his own pieces onto the mat earlier, but they hadn’t stayed there for long. While Acatl thought his siblings probably weren’t ganging up against him on purpose, the effect was the same. His luck had not improved at all since then.

Mihmatini nudged him. “Throw the beans again, maybe you’ll find out.”

He threw. He threw again. And then he was back in the game and he was laughing, and Acatl felt his heart skip several beats in a row. Gods, how he shone in the torchlight. How easy it would be to reach out, take his hand, pull him close—

No. He wrenched his gaze and his focus back to the mat. Not here. And besides...besides, I made my choice. I refuse to be selfish in this.

There was patolli to play.

In the end, each of them won a single game. This naturally necessitated a tiebreaker round, which was tense and hard-fought until Mihmatini, looking immensely pleased with herself, swept the board of all her opposition and sat back to gloat until Teomitl, highly disgruntled, threw a cushion at her. While he’d initially been surprised and more than a bit taken aback at how quickly the three of them degenerated into barely-serious insults and threats of murder, by the time the night wound down he was laughing with the rest of them even if he clearly didn’t dare join in. It warmed Acatl’s heart and fully made up for all the tokens he’d given away on his bets each time Teomitl’s face had lit up like that.

Since it was far, far too late for them to make their way home to the Sacred Precinct, Neutemoc insisted on them staying the night. Acatl turned down the offer of a room and bedded down in the courtyard instead; the air was warm, he was warmer, and he wanted the breeze. (Well, he wanted an ice bath. But he would settle for a breeze.)

He sprawled out on his back under one of the trees, staring at the stars through the thin canopy of leaves. Usually, counting them helped him sleep when he really couldn’t; this time, sleep wouldn’t come.

He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier. Not the flashes of emotion that had struck him during dinner, but what had happened before they arrived. What could have kept on happening, if Mihmatini hadn’t shown up.

I didn’t do anything wrong, Acatl told himself. He hadn’t. Teomitl had new earflares. Acatl had admired the earflares. He hadn’t broken his vows, hadn’t done anything that would cast shame upon Teomitl’s marriage. They’d only touched. That was all.

But the skin under his fingers had been so soft, and Teomitl had been melting into his touch and looking at him like...like…

Like he wanted me to kiss him. The thought felt like lightning striking the core of him, and he squeezed his eyes shut with an involuntary gasp. He’d seen a cunning version of that look before on women who were clearly hoping he’d make a move on them, priest or no; he’d never in his life seen it like that. Flushed and soft and spellbound, as though the only thing Teomitl had been dreaming of was the moment where their mouths would meet.

And he wanted it. Even now, in his brother’s courtyard, with Teomitl and Mihmatini no doubt wrapped in each other’s arms a few rooms away, he wanted it. He rolled over onto his side and dug his nails into his palms, hoping the pain would center him. It didn’t. The thoughts kept on coming, each one like a hammer blow, and all he could do was reel as they hit home.

I desire him.

I love him.

I can’t tell him.

Because that was the cold, hard truth of it all. He loved Teomitl, and letting him know that would destroy too much he held dear. The peace in his life he’d just started to find would vanish. Happy evenings with his family would turn cold and awkward. Mihmatini—gods, his sister would never forgive him. No, having him in his life like this would have to be enough. They’d meet for dinner, they’d be friends, but Teomitl would build his life as Master of the House of Darts—as Revered Speaker—with Mihmatini by his side, and Acatl would go to his mat alone and it would be fine. It had to be fine. Safety. Security. This is the choice I’m making.

Distant voices intruded, and he shuddered all over again as he heard Mihmatini’s wry, teasing comment of, “I love you, but you do snore.”

“I know.” That was Teomitl, sounding terribly fond. “I’ll go sleep in the courtyard with Acatl.”

“Please.” She said something else, then, but it was too soft for Acatl to catch. Whatever it was, it made Teomitl cough, and she giggled sweetly.

He barely dared to breathe. Even facing away from them, he was far too aware of Teomitl’s footsteps; the man was trying to be stealthy, but he’d always been terrible at that. He felt it, too, when those footsteps stopped near him and—quietly—rolled out a mat. Reeds crunched softly as Teomitl sat down—no, laid down, there was the rustle of cloth as his cloak spread out. They were so close that once again Acatl thought he could feel the warmth of his body.

Silence. Soft breathing. Another, extended rustle as Teomitl rolled over.

And then, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it, “...Tonight was wonderful. I loved it. I love you.”

Adrenaline flooded his veins. He’d never been more awake in his life; it was only sheer force of will that kept his eyes from shooting open. His heart and his breath both caught, and for a long and irrational moment he wasn’t sure either of them was functioning. No—there was his heartbeat roaring back to life, pounding so fast and hard that his throat squeezed with the effort of it. His lungs were next, a hitched pause that felt so much more momentous than it sounded.

I love you.

He’d made his choice, but now he faced a new one. He could keep his eyes shut, force himself to relax, pretend he’d never heard that confession. In the morning, nothing would happen. Their lives would continue on as before. That would be the safe option.

Or he could turn over, look Teomitl in the eyes, and speak to him as one man to another.

Love meant pain. Loving a man like Teomitl...well. It probably meant even more pain. Teomitl wasn’t an easy man to love. He was stubborn, abrasive, proud, and tended not to listen to the people around him when he thought he knew best. But then, wasn’t Acatl the same? Less proud, he thought, but Acamapichtli called me self-righteous and gods, how I wish he’d been entirely wrong. Teomitl didn’t seem to mind, and he couldn’t possibly be unaware of Acatl’s flaws. No, he saw them. And he loved Acatl anyway. He loved him, flaws and all, risks and all. How could Acatl not do the same?

For once in his life—no. Even to think that would imply he saw an end to it, and Acatl would not back down from this. He would do this, and he would keep doing this, because the risks did not outweigh the benefits.

He took a long, slow breath, stretched out his limbs, and turned over to meet Teomitl’s gaze. For a moment Teomitl just looked stunned, but then the horror asserted itself—Acatl could see every shift of his expression as he registered that yes, he’d said that out loud and yes, Acatl had heard it.

Before he could run away, Acatl grabbed his hand hard enough to hurt.

Teomitl’s eyes went wide. “Acatl,” he began, “I…”

“I wanted to kiss you in the street today,” he blurted out, which was absolutely not what he’d planned to say. (Not that he’d had a plan at all, but I love you too seemed like a decent starting point.) “Tonight was—I lost so much on the games because I couldn’t stop staring at you, every time you laughed, you’re like sunlight—“

“Acatl.” Teomitl’s voice held more than a tinge of desperation. “Shut up.”

He shut up.

Teomitl’s gaze bored into his; as he leaned in, they drew so close that he could feel warm breath wafting across his own lips. His voice was low and serious as the grave. “If you keep talking, I am going to kiss you. Right here in the middle of your brother’s courtyard.”

It was dark. They were under a tree. They were perfectly capable of being quiet. He sucked in a hard breath, feeling his heart hammer frantically in his chest, and breathed, “What are you waiting for?”

Teomitl didn’t make him wait any longer. Their mouths finally met, and it was sweet and hot and something Acatl felt in his spine. Perfect, he thought, and then he wasn’t thinking anything, because he had a hand on Teomitl’s bare back and Teomitl had one buried in his hair and it didn’t matter that he’d never kissed anyone before, because Teomitl was more than skilled enough to make up for any deficiencies in his own technique. That pretty golden lip plug didn’t get in the way at all. More. I want more of this.

The position was awkward, both of them lying on their sides, but then he rolled away to free his trapped arm and Teomitl followed and oh, that was much better, with Teomitl half on top of him and the red of his cloak blending into the night. When they pulled away to breathe, he panted, “We should—“ Get inside, he meant to say. Find somewhere secluded. But it was difficult to get any of that out when Teomitl was kissing him midsentence, nipping at his bottom lip and sighing in pleasure when he slid his hands down his back. The skin was deliciously soft here too, and unscarred.

Teomitl’s fingers slid down his side to the curve of his hip, and even if he hadn’t been able to feel the evidence of his arousal he could pick it up just fine from the roughness in his voice. “Gods, I want you so much.”

“Not here,” he gasped. Even the thought sent a cold spike of fear through his chest. No—not entirely fear. Some part of him, even though he knew better, wanted to see how quiet they could really be.

Someone cleared their throat across the courtyard. They both froze.

It was Mihmatini, talking to a slave in a voice that carried. “No, the room’s wonderful. I’m just a bit warm, so I’m going to sleep in the courtyard. But you know I snore, so I can’t blame the men if they want to take my room instead.”

Teomitl slumped, his head tucking into the crook of Acatl’s neck as though it belonged there permanently. “She doesn’t snore,” he whispered.

He felt an absurd urge to laugh. “I know.”

“She talks in her sleep, which is worse.”

“I know.” But she was also heading their way, so he nudged Teomitl off him and rolled over so by the time she got there, it would look like they were simply dozing. I have the best sister in the world.

“I heard that.”

The best sister in the world was currently giving her husband a very unimpressed look. He was pushing himself upright, flushed with embarrassment—but not, Acatl realized, guilt. Nor the shifty eyes of one who was trying to keep a secret. “It is worse. You’ve said so yourself.”

“About you,” she said dryly. “Acatl, if you can put up with that without strangling him, I’d be very appreciative.”

Teomitl huffed, climbing to his feet and gathering his mat. “Lies and slander.”

And then she grinned at him, and winked. He felt his face go hot. It was one thing to know that she knew, and to have it be something they never spoke about. It was entirely different to do such things with her blessing. To kiss Teomitl, to hold him in his arms, and know that he wouldn’t break his sister’s heart in doing so—that he could have Teomitl, and his family, and not have to give up happiness with either.

Teomitl paused a few feet away, turning to look back over his shoulder. It was impossible to miss the hope in his voice. “Coming, Acatl?”

Another decision. Another chance to say no, he wouldn’t do this, there were lines he wouldn’t cross. He’d taken vows, hadn’t he? Vows of chastity, of celibacy. His virginity was something he’d managed to hold onto all his life, and if he and Teomitl had the privacy of a room with walls and a closed entrance-curtain, he’d fling it away in a heartbeat. There’d be no going back from that.

He rose, pulling a hand through his hair, and followed Teomitl inside.

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #mihmatini #neutemoc #paladin writes stuff

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norbah · 4 years

Text

Huitzilopochtli

-Saber (5*)

The proud Aztec god of war and the sun, Huitzilopochtli was born armed and ready for battle. The serpent of flame, Xiuhcoatl, was his weapon. His first action was the wholesale slaughter of his 400 brothers and dismemberment of his sister Coyolxauhqui in defense of his mother. Although he is technically a Pseudoservant, his face is not a familiar one, as he inhabits the body of a particularly worthy Mexica warrior. He does not tolerate weaklings as his Master, and one would be well advised to pull their weight and prove their worth as a warrior early on, lest the violent deity withdraw his favor and support.

Huitzilopochtli is particularly difficult to get along with at first. Mages remind him uncomfortably of Tezcatlipoca, the Aztec god of night, and thus his relationship with his Master will be automatically on the wrong foot from the start. He respects strength and valor, and rankles at cowards and cheats. He revels in violence and has little patience for activities unrelated to combat, meaning training is one of the few ways to bond with him.

Huitzilopochtli is brimming with raw power, and believes in honorable combat, although he finds the idea of giving his opponent a choice in the matter laughable. If Huitzilopochtli wishes to fight you, there’s not much you can do to avoid it. He is vulnerable to ambushes and assassinations, and it is no exaggeration to say his weakest point is his Master. The low respect he has for mages as a whole means he is unlikely to protect them at first. Indeed, if he finds them to be cowardly or spineless, he is perfectly willing to stand back and watch them be killed, as defeat is preferable to cowardice. Unlike his brother Quetzalcoatl, Huitzilopochtli loves only the strong among humanity, and will expect his Master to personally take the life of at least one other Master during the Grail War.

However, he is no mindless Berserker, and relishes the use of strategy against his enemies. If one can prove to him that their mind is sharp and well-versed in the art of tactics, he will quickly grow to respect his partner, and may even waive his demands for actual combat from them. It would be a good idea to avoid suggesting an assassination or underhanded tactics to him, however. The memories of what the deceitful Spaniards did to his people still make him bristle with blazing rage.

He burns through mana at an alarming rate, and unless one has enough in reserve, he is likely to go find a worthy sacrifice, or worse still, demand that his Master provide one for him. He will not select civilians, not out of concern for justice or discretion, or even mercy, but because he wishes only for warriors as sacrifices to himself. Anything less is unworthy.

In the context of the Grand Order, the chief god of Mesoamerica is easier to handle. Being surrounded with mighty warriors from across all ages and nations, he is quite enamored with the concept of testing himself against them. To his delight, there are many capable of holding their own against him, even if for a short while. He also has a secret soft spot for mothers, and will go out of his way to assist them if he can.

Inevitably, he will come to respect the last Master of Chaldea, as their struggles against insurmountable odds speak of true valor and strength of spirit. Indeed, he will go as far as to refer to them affectionately as “Tlatoani” after a while.

All in all, Huitzilopochtli is proud, stubborn, violent, and difficult. But should you earn his trust, there is no ally more steadfast and fierce you could find than the Fifth Sun.

ACTIVE SKILLS

Charisma B+

Although Huitzilopochtli and his people were the dominant culture of Mesoamerica, they did not reach this summit through diplomacy, but rather coercion and fear. Other tribes obeyed them only until somebody crueler than the Aztecs came along and offered to depose them.

----Increases all allies’ Atk.

Lake Texcoco

Huitzilopochtli could be an unreasonable deity, but he could also be a guiding hand. Through the augury of an eagle devouring a snake atop a prickly pear, he led his people from the mythical Aztlan to what would one day be Tenochtitlan: an island in a lake, infested with venomous snakes. The surrounding tribes gifted the island to the Mexica people, expecting them to die. But the Mexica ate the snakes, and claimed the island for their own.

----Increases allies’ Atk and Def. (3 turns)

----All allies gain Debuff Resist (3 times)

Blue Hummingbird EX

This skill is an embodiment of his nature as the bloodthirsty chief of the gods. As the sun, he gave life to all beings on earth. He demands blood in return, that he may be strong enough to hold back the eternal night. As his allies are spirits much like himself, he does not take their hearts as tribute, but rather drinks from them without taking their lives.

----An ally of your choosing loses 50% of their remaining health

----Increases own Buster strength depending on how much health was taken from ally (3 turns)

----Extra effect if NP is used (1 turn)

NOBLE PHANTASM

Name: Tonatiuh

Rank: A+

Class: Buster

Type: Anti-Army

“I am Light. I am War. I am he who holds the Moon and Stars at bay. Gaze now upon me as I am reborn from the Southeast. I am the Fifth Sun—- TONATIUH!”

As the dual deity of war and the sun, Huitzilopochtli displays unbridled power that few can rival. In Aztec myth, he is our current sun, and his power is what keeps the moon and stars from descending upon the Earth and devouring all living on it. This power grows as he is fed the blood and hearts of captured warriors, or even allies deemed worthy of this honor. This Noble Phantasm manifests this legend by transforming into the Solar Disc, Tonatiuh, and unleashing his might towards the surrounding area. Those blessed by him will feel the warmth of the sun on their skin and the strength of their allies at their side, giving them the spirit to fight more fiercely, while those who stand against him will feel the devastating power of the Sun in its most bloodthirsty and violent form.

----Deals significant damage to all enemies

----Increase Atk for all allies. (3 turns)

----Stuns Self for 3 turns (Demerit)

----If under the effect of Blue Hummingbird EX, Huitzilopochtli is not stunned. Instead, increase Atk by fraction of HP taken as tribute. (Effect increases with Overcharge. 100% is an increase by 50% of the tribute. 200% is an increase by 75%. So on.)

Additional quotes for other Servants: -Quetzalcoatl: “Quetzalcoatl, my brother! It has been too long! ... You... seem different than I remember you. ... Did you do something with your hair? And do you know what happened to my Piedra del Sol?” He still holds Quetzalcoatl in high regard, as one of the few siblings who aided him in defending their mother, Coatlicue against Coyolxauhqui. As such, Quetz is one of the very few people you will catch Huitz being affectionate with... and is, in fact, the only Servant capable of calling him Huitz without starting a fight. -Jaguar Man: “I see you in there, Tepeyollotl. You think you can hide behind this woman, but I know you’re in there. ... Eh? You evicted him? You evicted the Heart of the Mountain? ... I would not have liked to be in his place. You have my respect.” Huitzilopochtli respects but mistrusts Tezcatlipoca and all his avatars. To find that this woman was willful enough to turn the tables on the Smoking Mirror is a very welcome surprise, but he will keep an eye on her nonetheless. -Karna: “You there, spearman. Stop for a moment. Something links us. I can feel it. ... Ah. I understand now. ... You are a capable warrior, I see. Would you join me in the sparring ring? I would like to know you better. We are practically family, after all.” He sees Karna as a nephew of sorts, being the son and incarnation of another sun god, albeit a much less violent one. Challenging Karna to brutal fights is his equivalent of playing catch with the demigod. -Leonidas: “You are not Mexica, are you? No. Your weaponry and armor, it is too different. But I see it in your eyes; that same sliver of the sun that burned in my warriors. Please, grant me the honor of joining me in a spar.” He simply recognizes a man who may have been an Eagle Knight or even a Tlatoani, had he been born in a different time and place. He goes all out against Leonidas as a sign of respect, and is delighted to discover just how strong and durable the Spartan is. -Tiamom: “I... Mother? Mother, is that you? ... No. No, not quite. You feel like her, and I hear her in your voice, but you’re much gentler. Yet... somehow, it feels like you’re... I’m so confused.” This is where Huitz is the most vulnerable. He is dearly fond of his mother, and sees much of her in the Foreigner Tiamat. Both are mother goddesses, greatly associated with the earth and with serpents, and both were turned on by their own children. Huitz can't help but feel protective of Tiamat, and subtly tries to make her proud of him. It is a good thing she can look after herself. If his new surrogate mother were threatened, there's no telling how much carnage Huitz would cause in his desire to protect her. -Artemis: “A moon goddess? Pah. More trouble than they’re worth, the lot of them. Watch your back, Master, lest you find a dagger in it.” Self explanatory. Huitzilopochtli feels great distaste for moon goddesses, and would see no problem in getting rid of all of them to avoid a potential Coyolxauqui 2.0.

#fgo #fanservant #huitzilopochtli #dammit all i caved and made one of these #actually kinda happy with him but i'm worried his NP might be a bit overpowered #oc

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