The conch shells woke them both up, but even though Acatl knew it was dawn and they needed to make their devotions to the gods he couldn’t bring himself to reach for his knife. For one thing, he could barely see it; it had been raining when they’d fallen asleep and it hadn’t stopped yet. Sunlight seemed like more of a faint suggestion.
Teomitl had a little more energy, or at least a little more determination. Grumbling indistinctly, he rolled upright to grab paper and the ball of grass studded with maguey spines that had somehow migrated to Acatl’s sleeping chambers to join multiple spare embroidered loincloths and a very nice pair of gold-beaded sandals in the pile of things Acatl was sure hadn’t been property of any High Priest. “Grnk,” he said as he nicked his scabbed-over earlobes and mumbled his way through a prayer to the Sun.
Once Acatl might have chided him for sloppiness, but now he just accepted the papers Teomitl held out to him to catch his own blood as he muttered a prayer to Lord Death and to the Sun that was definitely, probably behind the clouds somewhere. He would burn them in the hearth when he was capable of getting up, which he didn’t think would be anytime soon. It was just so dark out. Every fiber of his being wanted to be asleep again.
Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl
The conch shells woke them both up, but even though Acatl knew it was dawn and they needed to make their devotions to the gods he couldn’t bring himself to reach for his knife. For one thing, he could barely see it; it had been raining when they’d fallen asleep and it hadn’t stopped yet. Sunlight seemed like more of a faint suggestion.
Teomitl had a little more energy, or at least a little more determination. Grumbling indistinctly, he rolled upright to grab paper and the ball of grass studded with maguey spines that had somehow migrated to Acatl’s sleeping chambers to join multiple spare embroidered loincloths and a very nice pair of gold-beaded sandals in the pile of things Acatl was sure hadn’t been property of any High Priest. “Grnk,” he said as he nicked his scabbed-over earlobes and mumbled his way through a prayer to the Sun.
Once Acatl might have chided him for sloppiness, but now he just accepted the papers Teomitl held out to him to catch his own blood as he muttered a prayer to Lord Death and to the Sun that was definitely, probably behind the clouds somewhere. He would burn them in the hearth when he was capable of getting up, which he didn’t think would be anytime soon. It was just so dark out. Every fiber of his being wanted to be asleep again.
“Should eat something,” Teomitl muttered. “Breakfast.”
He started to reply, but his own yawn cut the words off. In a moment, he wanted to say. Let me just rest my eyes first.
There was a soft huff of amusement. “I can make some atole for us.”
Reluctantly, he wedged one eye open. If Teomitl was going to cook, he wanted to make sure his lover didn’t burn the house down. “...Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Go back to sleep, love.”
Teomitl smiled at him, and the sun came out.