oh, that which was once...was once up to me... Who: Gabe [Xochipilli] & Leira [Xochiquetzal]. What: Two Aztec gods chill, but get interrupted. By bugs. Where: Old Aztec times. When: Sometime.
The sky above was a bright blue, clear and unimpeded by the sight of clouds as Xochipilli swung in his makeshift vine hammock. A pipe hung between two fingers, the smoke rising from it a purple-green color that matched some of the flowers inked on his skin and the feathers in his crown. Gently, he blew more smoke upward, making rings; one foot draped from his hammock, the ball of it touching the ground to rock him slowly back and forth.
Trees overhead laced the blue with branches and brightly colored green leaves; their trunks twisted upward, an orange hue denoting fungus and molds clinging to their bark. A pathway nearby wound upward, almost cut from the ground itself in fits and starts as it did not lie smooth, requiring any following it to carefully watch their step; it landed, eventually, at a similarly carved temple, overgrown with more vines and flowers.
A hummingbird buzzed nearby, flying in jerky starts and stops around Xochipilli's pipe smoke. He smiled at the sight of it, raising a hand to extend a finger; the tiny bird perched on it for a moment, its tiny black eye blinking in his direction. Its tongue flicked out, viper-quick. Birdsong followed, but it plainly did not originate from the small creature resting on the god.
The song moved to the cacophonous rhythm of jangling bells. As they approached they grew at once more irregular and more cheerful: They suited quite well the figure that appeared in their wake. She smiled, and it shone like the sun. Her glory was reflected in the gold that adorned her, in the vibrant robes she wore.
Airy cloth rustled as she drew near to him, her arms spread wide in welcome. "My other half," she said. "How I've missed you."
Xochipilli sat up, his other leg going over the opposite side of his hammock; the quick, jerked movement made the smoke from his pipe zig-zag through the air, his feathered crown going askew. The hummingbird was already long gone. He smiled like a blossoming flower, the sides of his mouth unwinding into a wide, unchecked grin. He blinked, as though he were unsure she was actually standing before him.
"Xochitl," he murmured, stepping out of the hammock awkwardly to approach her. His arms went as wide as hers, catching her up in a strong embrace. "I feel whole. It is wonderful to see you." He stepped back, hands still on her upper arms as though he would stop her from escaping.
"It is you, yes?" One hand detached, rising to palm her cheek. She took his hand and held it to her skin, feeling his warmth join her own.
"And no other," she said. She leaned in to him and kissed him, tasting lingering smoke, floral notes, and something vaguely, indefinably him. Her arms wound around him once more, catching him up into a tight hug that he returned without hesitation. As she withdrew, she reached up again, straightening his headdress atop his dark head. He laughed, smiling eyes trying to follow her movements and failing. Her every motion was announced with a jingling of golden circlets.
"And did you save any hallucinogens for me?" she teased, peering into his wide-pupiled eyes.
Xochipilli cast an amused, admonishing look in her direction, one hand withdrawing to press to his chest as though she'd physically wounded him.
"You say that as if I'd ever run out," he chided, his smile unabating. She laughed aloud at that. A hand dipped in the air, and retrieved the wood-carved pipe from where it had disappeared to. "Here, this has been a fine friend for some time. Mushrooms... And I forget what else, in the moment, but I'm sure it's eager to introduce itself to you." He took a step back, offering her the pipe; smoke curled from it, aiming upward. The hummingbird returned, flitting around Xochipilli's head.
"Come, we should take rest in my temple; you must be tired from your long journey. For it has been a long time since I've seen you, and you must tell me where you've been."
"I will tell you everything," she said, gesticulating with the pipe in hand. Her eyes followed its motions, its long, languid coils, then darted back to her brother, her partner, her other half. She fell into step beside him, chiming like bells as they moved toward his sanctuary. She was silent for a moment, savoring those lungfuls of smoke. In that time she watched him, bright eyes sweeping over his figure as if committing every detail of him to memory. She smiled on her lengthy exhalation, smoke pouring like liquid from her grinning lips.
"This is delightful." She blinked, her pupils slowly dilating. She laughed, and took the steps up to his temple two at a time; she outpaced Xochipilli at one point, making him laugh and hurry to catch up. "Something about it reminds me of the incense I saw offered to the goddess Kali. You would like her, I think. You have similar tastes in many things. Blood, and dance, and good-tasting things…" She watched him closely, equal parts curious and tentatively jealous.
"Mm, she does sound intriguing," he replied, stumbling a little on one of the steps. His foot landed squarely on a bug, making him yelp in surprise; he loosed his grip on her hand, jumping back and catching himself on a nearby vine. Xochiquetzal stopped with him, moving quickly to his side.
"What was that," he muttered, more out of annoyance than true curiosity; it had been a long time since he'd accidentally stepped on something in his world. What was left behind was a splotch of pink-purple liquid, which steamed slightly in the air as it ate through the dirt and roots that made up the path. Xochipilli turned his foot up, and saw the substance doing the same thing to his foot. He grabbed a handful of leaves and started to wipe it off with frantic motions, pain starting to slowly bubble through his flesh.
What he didn't notice, though, was that there were more of the bugs—the size of a finger, with long, oval-shaped bodies, antennae scenting the air as they noticed the two gods nearby.
They went beneath Xochiquetzal's notice as well, distracted as she was by her brother's pain. The pipe fell to the ground, forgotten in favor of attending to his wounds. She drew the hem of her robes into her hands, brushing at his bare foot with fine, unsoiled cloth. But soon the liquid burned through that as well, disintegrating her robes by slow degrees. She cried out, dropping the cloth, her eyes still fixed on her fellow deity.
"Try earth," she said, reaching for a portion not already tainted by the bug's innards. She could not be sure it worked, as in an instant she felt the same liquid searing her own flesh. She shouted a curse, shaking her hand in an ill thought out attempt to free herself of that pain. A second bug landed on her, then a third, and then their small, sharp bites began.
Xochipilli's attention was immediately diverted by his sister's predicament—the leaves in his hands became fans, small weapons, brushing away the bugs that landed on her skin.
"Away! Away with you beasts," he muttered angrily, Nahuatl curses spilling freely from his lips. His foot began to feel numb, though edges of his earlier wound were still alight with pain. He hopped from one to the other, trying to tug Xochiquetzal along toward the temple—the one place he thought they might find shelter.
She followed him closely, blinking back tears as hot and stinging as the wounds on her hands. She felt herself trembling from the pain. Then the numbness came, and that was even more frightening than the pain had been. But there was no time to consider this; the bugs were pursuing them and rapidly gaining ground. The temple steps were many and steep. The god took them in stride, but still it felt like it would not be enough. Her fingers red and puckered and covered in spreading wounds, she took Xochipilli's hand all the same, and bounded up the last steps to the protective shade of the temple itself.
She risked one glance behind her, and gasped aloud as she saw still more insects descending upon them. When she turned back to the temple, she squeezed her eyes shut and leapt into the dark, still clutching her brother's hand.
He could hear the scurrying of hundreds of tiny feet on branches, leaves, the ground itself, but they were inside; he let go of his sister's hand only long enough to throw a stone door closed. What sounded like a wave breaking hit the barrier he had erected, and a chirruping whine erupted at the insect's failure. Still hopping from one foot to another, he turned back to Xochiquetzal.
"Are you—" He stopped himself mid-question, snapping a finger to light torches in the space. It was a roughly rectangular-shaped room, hewn from stone, a few pieces of furniture carved from the soft wood that grew around the temple. The sight of her pricked flesh made him suck in a breath.
"Sit," he said, moving forward to carefully press her into one of the chairs. He moved toward a wall, where a door appeared and disappeared for a moment, hobbled in his movements. He returned with a small jar, which he uncapped to reveal an off-white salve. Going to his knees in front of her, he started with her arms, rubbing copious amounts of the substance into her skin. "Have you seen those things before? They are not of this area, not that I've seen."
She shook her head. "They are nothing of mine," she said, "or my people's. And in all my travels…" She shuddered. It hurt to leave her hand outstretched, but it hurt to curl it closed as well. She stayed as still as she could. Her eyes fell nearly shut as the ointment began to work its magic, soothing her, easing that unfamiliar pain.
"I'm fine," she said, more to herself than to her brother. "But no… I've never seen their like. We need to find a way to be rid of those things, though. If they reach the city who knows what they might do to the humans there." She frowned. "They may think them a plague that we brought to them."
Xochipilli grunted, taking another large helping from the jar that never seemed to empty. His frown was writ large on his face.
"I have no idea how to go about that," he started, shaking his head. "Killing, taking life... it's not exactly my forte." He glanced up at her, his fingers still carefully massaging the salve into one palm. He smirked lightly. "I might think you'd have some suggestions, sister?"
She didn't, but that didn't stop her trying. She watched her injured hand in the firelight, fighting to start it flexing again. The ointment helped, but the worrisome numbness remained. So she turned her gaze elsewhere, searching the enclosed temple for anything that might be of use. The torches were one option, she thought; but then another came to her.
"Your smoke," she said. With her good hand she gestured down to his pipe. "I've seen it put stinging bees to sleep. It's worth trying on these things, I think."
The corners of Xochipilli's mouth turned down in consideration; he'd not heard of such a thing, but then again, spending most of his time with his head in the clouds did not serve the concrete knowledge side of things. But it was a better plan than his non-suggestion, and he quickly finished kneading the lotion into Xochiquetzal's other palm.
Then he rose, capping the jar. "Keep this with you, and re-apply it when it feels necessary. I have more," he said, still favoring his untreated foot. She frowned but obeyed, putting the little jar aside in the folds of her robes. "Mine will keep, and we can see to it once this is all over with. Now... as for smoke, I think I can do better than a pipe."
He slowly and carefully moved away from his sister, waving his hand toward what seemed like a darker corner of the room. Two large braziers sprang alight, warming and lighting the room.
"I keep my mushrooms and other paraphernalia in the other room, but do you think this might suffice?"
"Perhaps," she said. "I believe the smoke should be thick. So long as we can manage that, it might work."
She looked back toward the entrance, where she could still hear the scratching of thousands of small feet. Their presence made her anxious, now; she thought of her birds, their song still following her, though they yet remained outside. She did not trust those insects not to harm those dear to her, though she hoped they could tend to themselves.
"The birds will eat some of them," she said, watching her kin work. "Do you think it will make them ill?"
Xochipilli frowned again, but shrugged. "Just from our own reactions, my first answer would be yes. But I do not know how your birds are constructed, if they have natural defenses against such things.
"If we need, we can call healers. Otherwise, can you send them away? To be safe," he suggested, eyeing her as he began to drag one of the braziers toward the other, currently windowless wall.
Nodding, she turned her gaze back to the entryway's now enclosed wall. With a small motion she set her birds scattering; their song dissipated, and though she was sad to hear it go, she was far more comfortable knowing they were at a safe distance.
That done, she padded through the temple, back to Xochipilli's side. She took up a torch of her own, taking comfort in its warmth and light. "Is there a back way out?" she asked, hopeful.
"Yes..." he said, hefting the heavy brazier near the wall. "...and no. The temple responds to my wants, as it senses them. We are protected, for now." He gestured to the windowless, doorless walls that enclosed them, a brown-orange in color from the light that cascaded up and down their length.
"My thought is to light the braziers, add the substance we will burn, and then open the windows—but this will let them in at us. I am not sure we can escape in time." He reached to squeeze her hand. "Unless you have a thought?"
She chewed her lip; her nervous motions set her bracelets jingling. When she looked up to him her expression was drawn, but intense. Her mind was made up. "When you open them I will call back my birds," she said. "They will eat what insects they can and protect us from the others. The moment we have escaped I will send them away again." She squared her shoulders. "They may not all survive, and your healers may not be able to attend them all, but my birds will understand. We have always required sacrifice."
Xochiquetzal drew in a deep breath, exhaling when she moved closer to the wall her companion indicated. She stopped just before one unlit brazier, and nodded.
Xochipilli waved a hand, bringing a mushroom into existence. He met Xochiquetzal's eyes once more, and nodded; another wave lit the brazier, the room colored in orange and red in a flush of light. He paused for a moment, waiting for the flames to reach a certain height; both hands were extended, throwing his shadow in stark relief on the wall behind him. It towered over him, made the otherwise genial man seem something more as it flickered in time with the flames' rhythm.
Then, another wave; the reds and oranges were drowned out by pure white as windows cut themselves into the rock wall of the room, opening it all to the elements. Blindness washed through Xochipilli's vision, but he knew what was around him too well to be completely stunned. Turning the palm of his other hand, he dropped the mushrooms into the first brazier; amazingly, a huge cloud of smoke billowed up, filling the room, sucked out the windows through an unseen wind—just in time to meet the crashing sound of a thousand insects given free lease to get at their quarry.
Xochiquetzal, her eyes still squeezed shut against the blinding light, raised her arms and called to her birds. They descended on the swarm of insects, their song exchanged for hungry shrieking, their beaks wide and talons outstretched to catch their prey. Bodies crashed together; the bugs against the birds' feathers made a sound like heavy rain, like fat droplets splashing on stone-paved streets.
The birds cut a path through the cloud of insects, but they suffered for the ground they gained. Xochiquetzal squinted out toward them, refusing to let their many sacrifices be in vain. With her free hand she reached for her brother, grasping him tightly and guiding him out toward the light. More birds fell, weighed down by the bugs that now swarmed their bright wings. She tugged Xochipilli harder, urging him on. The birds descended again and again, taking more of the insects' number as they did. She tried to focus on that, rather than on those of her familiars that fell, their hollow bones snapping like twigs as they did.
Xochipilli concentrated solely on not stumbling, the ragged movement his sister drew him to a surprise in the wake of focusing on the attack. One hand rose to shade his eyes, the other grasping Xochiquetzal's tightly. The sounds of birds and insects behind them dropping to the ground drowned out their footsteps, those already softened by the dirt under their feet.
"We should warn the others, Xochitl, " he said, panting a little as the exertion took its toll. "The others here...and outside of ourselves."
She answered with a vigorous nod. She slowed her steps, feeling her own breaths grow more labored along with her partner's; they had expended far more energy than she had realized, and her body keenly felt its loss as the immediate danger passed. She pulled him closer to her, in need of his comfort.
"Do you think these could harm them?" she asked. "Our… our vessels? Surely they will be safe. We already did so much…"
But as she looked back to the swarm, though it had suffered, it was not entirely gone. Worry knit her brow.
Xochipilli shook his head, unwilling to look behind them. He kept them moving up the path, up the mountain, toward its peak, and, perhaps, their safety. "I don't know, Xochitl," he breathed, near panting. "But it is not something I would hide from others, if it threatens them, too. But for now—"
He came to a near stop, a cave opening up before them. Though it seemed it had appeared, in truth branches and vines had hidden it from distant view. He tugged his sister toward its opening.
"We can hide here, until they pass. Then we can decide what action to take next."
Nodding, she slipped into the welcoming dark of the cave. She did not risk a glance behind her, lest her birds' sacrifice be in vain. There, in the cool embrace of the stone, they sheltered together, and waited out the last of the insects.