InsaneJournal

Xolotl was still too pale. His lips and fingertips were blue, and his skin was cold to the touch. Xolotl had passed through Mictlan hundreds of times back in the old days; it had been his job. But things were too different now. Quetzalcoatl had hoped that the effects would wear off. After all, he had been right there besides Xolotl the whole time, and was more or less fine. But Quetzalcoatl hadn't died.

He sighed and scooped the eggs he was cooking out of the frying pan and onto a plate. He had actually been fairly pleased to master the art of scrambled eggs, but culinary success wasn't really something to celebrate these days. A knock at the door startled him out of his musings, and he turned the stove off and headed for the door. The apartment was a little more organized lately, for Xol's benefit if nothing else. The stacks of books were lining the walls instead of scattered across the floor, and there was space to sit on most of the furniture.

Seeing Tezcatlipoca at the door was still something of a shock, after not seeing him for more than a century.

"Right on time."