InsaneJournal

slip on down from the sun to climb
Who: Gabe [Xochipilli] & James [Sigyn].
What: A Norse goddess gets herself lost in a corn maze.
Where: Ancient Mexico.
When: Then, not now.

The gold, stalks heavy with corn, swayed gently in a breeze that played over them, a ripple that expanded exponentially for the birds that flew through a bright blue sky overhead. Dominating this otherwise agricultural landscape was a tall temple, a pyramid built by mortal hands to scrape the dome that encapsulated the world. An altar sat at nearly its top, just above the last step, stained with red that was fresh to anyone with the eyes and nose to tell; sometimes the breeze carried the scent of blood with it down into the corn, making it shiver with promise of a reaping that was soon to come. Sitting at the base of a pyramid was a man clad only in a loincloth; his body was covered with dirt, which played over and partially obscured brilliantly-colored tattoos of vines and flora that wound up both legs and arms. One foot was bent to set itself on top of the stone step (giving a flower-emblazoned elbow a resting place), while the other dangled toward the ground below; his torso and shoulders were bare, exposing sun-kissed skin to elements it was clearly not unfamiliar with. Only his head was capped with a crown made of woven teal and jade feathers that were likewise manipulated by the breeze the corn felt. He bit into a corn cob, chewing lazily, sending chewed and unchewed kernels alike flying in nearly every direction. Azure butterflies wafted around him, some planted on the pocked stone on which he sat, close but not close enough to be disturbed by the man's eating habits. As he chewed, he surveyed his surroundings, and did not find them displeasing. It was the butterflies she noticed first - besides the endless stretch of corn, that is, so much different than what she was used to. Sigyn knew the landscapes of Asgard - tall mountains and beautiful lakes, dark forests where the trees looked like black trunks against a sky of charcoal, and paths the deepest brown. Then, of course, the rainbow bridge - a myriad of colours and plaits of fire. She was in a new place now. In more ways than one. And here she stuck out, wearing a hooded cloak over the loose folds of her dress. Nothing ostentatious, nothing skin-baring. Large eyes framed by lashes that resembled a witch’s spindle - yet she was no witch, simply a woman. A patient woman. “They’re beautiful,” she spoke about the butterflies as she approached; this was the first person she’d seen in what felt like forever after curious wandering (and his attire, how interesting). Those butterfly companions were so blue, the colour was searing. They were a sight not usually observed in Asgard - goats, horses, bears, birds were prominent. Fish too. But not often butterflies. “Are they yours?” She wasn’t worried about getting lost in the maze, or wandering, never finding home. That would come eventually, as long as she was persistent (she embodied persistence). She was already so close. The man was in the midst of another bite as the woman appeared, the corn nearly parting before her to allow her passage—whether it was for her benefit or theirs was unknowable, but they moved all the same. Xochipilli did not swallow nor stop chewing as he replied. "Yes, and no," he said, the back of one hand holding the end of a corn cob wiping at his mouth. Finally, he swallowed, grinning at his guest. He made no move to rise. "I did not make them, if that's your question. But they do follow me, and I consider them my own, in that sense." He made a sweeping motion with one dirty, tattooed arm, indicating the corn. "All of this however," he continued, his eyes brightening at the sight of the maze. "This is certainly mine. But I'm always in a sharing mood, if that's your next question." He held the half-eaten corn cob out toward his guest. She blinked - her eyes were pale, very light, and she lowered the hood of her cloak to reveal the halo braid, an intricate design which golden hair had been weaved into. “It was not my next question, but I appreciate the hospitality,” Sigyn spoke, amused as she carefully took the corn cob riddled with obvious teeth marks - a prominent feature of the half-consumed vegetable. “I am meant to eat this?” Xochipilli shrugged, making some unintelligible gesture as his other leg descended to the ground below. Well, it must be good, since it was already a snack for someone else. The man before her was in need of a bath but she was not so garish as to bring that up. Especially since she was a guest. But she wondered what had gotten him so dirty - it was like he’d risen from the soil. “How long have you been here?” That was her next question, technically. She had many of them. Being in a new place ignited her curiosity. "Oh, a long time, a very long time," he answered, leaning back in his seat. Xochipilli wrapped his hands behind his head, his shoulders brushing the lip of the next step. "A long time and yet...somehow...not long enough? But time is not really my doing. I could very well ask the same of you, because I'd say I'd never seen your kind here before, but you do remind me of someone." “Nor mine,” Sigyn admitted - no, time was not her doing. Neither was foresight, seeing events before they occurred - it was a dangerous game to play. Some things were simply not meant to be known under such circumstances. And it hadn’t gone so well in her home. “Who do I remind you of?” She stepped closer, still holding the corn, and settled on the bottom stone step. It was nice out here - warm, in fact. The sky was so clear, and she didn’t care for the rain and the cold and storms that seemed to bring with them all sorts of mayhem. Well, why not. She took a bite of the corn, chewing politely. “I have not been here long. I’ve seen the end of all things and this is now...rebirth. Beginning anew.” The cycle of the world - creation, destruction, and everything in between. "It's the same for me," Xochipilli replied, inclining his head. He resituated himself, tattooed hands coming to rest on his legs. Eyes moved over her clothing with some curiosity, but only that. "And you remind me of a man I met. Freyr? There's just..." A hand rose, swirling in the air as though to summon forth the thought that refused to be born from Xochipilli's mind. "Something distant about the two of you. If I didn't know better, I would say you came from the same place." Sigyn perked up a little. The name was familiar, he was of her world - the fact that there was another of her own kind here (perhaps not here, as in, lost among the cornfields - but rather, also attempting to fit into a mortal world) was comforting. “He would appreciate this bountiful harvest,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, taking another look around. Xochipilli smiled, inclining his head in agreement. “We do hail from the same place.” They were very different, her and this man here - this god of the summer, and the heat, and the many pleasures in life. But she still felt a kinship regardless; the fact that they were able to meet in a world caught between wakefulness and sleep was telling. “He does not know who I am,” she added then, a lament, with a gentle sigh escaping her toward the tail end. “My mortal host, I mean. Does yours know you?” It was a little frustrating, to be caged in such a way. Yet she would have faith that things would work out, that she would not remain hidden for much longer. The same hand that had coaxed his thoughts out before wobbled a flat palm in the air. "He knows of me," Xochipilli said, hands coming to rest across his chest as his eyes moved back over the undulating fields of corn. "But beyond that?" He shrugged. "It's a difficult thing for mortals to wrap their minds around; though I will say it's quite a contrast, to go from being fed blood sacrifice on an hourly basis, to barely being believed in. My people are... Not what they once were." He glanced toward his guest, squinting a little; she did somehow seem unnaturally bright, but it was not offputting. "I am Xochipilli, of the Aztecs," he introduced himself, pressing a hand to his chest as if further indication of whom he was speaking was necessary. "Do you hail from Álfheimr, too?" “I understand,” she smiled kindly. Her own thoughts followed a similar train - this was difficult for mortals to wrap their minds around, though it was through no fault of their own. They simply were not built to be able to contain such...exuberance. Such light, either figurative or literal. Hearing that another deity struggled with the contrast was reassuring. Though it was also interesting to witness how life as they knew it had evolved. Being fed blood sacrifice, as he said, to fading away and becoming more of a concept, something to be believed in. It almost inspired some sort of internal crisis. She shook her head, hands resting in her lap, the ear of corn there safe as if it was some precious thing. “Álfheimr is one of the Nine Worlds, home of the Light Elves, but I hail from Ásgarðr. It is home to the Gods. Sigyn,” she introduced herself. “Of the Norse. It is lovely to meet you, Xochipilli.” "Likewise," Xochipilli beamed in return, smiling broadly. "The Gods, though? You speak as though you might count yourselves better than all the rest, even when our mere meeting implies that there are so many others." His words were teasing, the gleam in his eye hinting at his mischief. She chuckled in response, a light and airy sound. And she did not mind the teasing. It felt as pleasant as the gentle breeze to laugh, and for her it seemed like eons since she’d had an opportunity to laugh, anyway, after so much loss and devastation. Sigyn maintained a fondness for her home, she missed her sons, and all of this change was new and no doubt testing her limits. But she would endure, as she always did. “The Norse gods, I should say,” she amended. “Though if you happened to wander in, I would welcome you just as kindly as you did me.” She stood then, holding out the corn cob - to return it to its owner, unless he meant for her to keep it. “Find me again sometime soon? Or I’ll find you.” That could happen. You never knew. Xochipilli inclined his head, his feathered hat waving; a hand took the partially eaten corn back. No harm, no foul that she did not care for it. "Most certainly; we have many other foods you could try, many other sights. And I hope you find more of your own kind, in all of this. When I said many others, I wasn't invoking hyperbole." He grinned once more, rising from his seat to see his guest off. "Of course, if you wish to stay and lose yourself in my maze for a little longer, I certainly won't begrudge the company." “Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “Yes. I think I might like to wander in your maze a little longer. Thank you.” Sigyn might even develop a taste for corn by then, and eat a whole ear (one that didn’t have teeth marks already) - or, at least, James would wake up wondering why he suddenly craved elotes slathered in sour cream. Bless.