Since they were both currently crammed in the same small cage in a cave north of Tlacopan, after a diplomatic endeavour that had turned into an investigation into an unorthodox cult and promptly gone very far south very quickly, Acatl couldn’t feel even a shred of Teomitl’s optimism. They’d only been able to hastily bandage their wounds, their weapons had been confiscated, and the cage wasn’t big enough for either of them to stand up straight, never mind fight. So he hunched further into the corner and asked incredulously, “How?!”
“...I’m not sure,” Teomitl muttered. “I don’t have your gift for pessimism. But I know it could.”
Grudgingly, he nodded. They could be dead or tortured or sacrificed to fuel a spell. So far, none of that had happened.
Obsidian & Blood, Acatl & Teomitl
“Well,” Teomitl said, “it could—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—be worse—sorry. But it could.”
Since they were both currently crammed in the same small cage in a cave north of Tlacopan, after a diplomatic endeavour that had turned into an investigation into an unorthodox cult and promptly gone very far south very quickly, Acatl couldn’t feel even a shred of Teomitl’s optimism. They’d only been able to hastily bandage their wounds, their weapons had been confiscated, and the cage wasn’t big enough for either of them to stand up straight, never mind fight. So he hunched further into the corner and asked incredulously, “How?!”
“...I’m not sure,” Teomitl muttered. “I don’t have your gift for pessimism. But I know it could.”
Grudgingly, he nodded. They could be dead or tortured or sacrificed to fuel a spell. So far, none of that had happened.
Yet.