“You hear all the stories of my childhood, but I haven’t heard any of yours. What was it like?”
They’re lazing together in the shaded summer heat of their courtyard, using Teomitl’s cloak as a blanket underneath them, when it occurs to her to ask. Because thanks to her brothers, her husband knows nearly every moment of her childhood—but he’s frustratingly close-mouthed about his own.
Before he can answer, she remembers what she knows about his family and hastens to add, “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.” His commitment to honesty between them is admirable, but the last thing she wants is to bring up bad memories.
He blinks at her, clearly surprised, and then smiles. “Not like yours. It was...well, you can imagine.” She can. She wants to find whoever was responsible for Teomitl (or not responsible, as the case may be) and hunt them down like dogs. Now’s not the time, though, because Teomitl seems to have found a good memory. “But there was the time I escaped my nannies and fell into the ocelot enclosure at the House of Animals.”
Ocelots are not small animals. “How are you alive?!”
He flushes adorably. “I was five! I think the mother ocelot thought I was one of her cubs! I think she still thinks that, honestly, every time I go to visit she starts licking my arm. You climbed an actual cactus, why are you looking at me like that?!”
She shakes her head, fond and exasperated in equal measure. “At least the cactus couldn’t follow me and tear me limb from limb.” She pauses. “At least, not that type of cactus.”
Obsidian & Blood, Mihmatini & Teomitl
“You hear all the stories of my childhood, but I haven’t heard any of yours. What was it like?”
They’re lazing together in the shaded summer heat of their courtyard, using Teomitl’s cloak as a blanket underneath them, when it occurs to her to ask. Because thanks to her brothers, her husband knows nearly every moment of her childhood—but he’s frustratingly close-mouthed about his own.
Before he can answer, she remembers what she knows about his family and hastens to add, “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.” His commitment to honesty between them is admirable, but the last thing she wants is to bring up bad memories.
He blinks at her, clearly surprised, and then smiles. “Not like yours. It was...well, you can imagine.” She can. She wants to find whoever was responsible for Teomitl (or not responsible, as the case may be) and hunt them down like dogs. Now’s not the time, though, because Teomitl seems to have found a good memory. “But there was the time I escaped my nannies and fell into the ocelot enclosure at the House of Animals.”
Ocelots are not small animals. “How are you alive?!”
He flushes adorably. “I was five! I think the mother ocelot thought I was one of her cubs! I think she still thinks that, honestly, every time I go to visit she starts licking my arm. You climbed an actual cactus, why are you looking at me like that?!”
She shakes her head, fond and exasperated in equal measure. “At least the cactus couldn’t follow me and tear me limb from limb.” She pauses. “At least, not that type of cactus.”
“...I do not want to know.”