Copper and bronze were useful in their own ways, but they required regular sharpening and maintenance. Not so obsidian, which stayed as sharp as the day it had been flaked off from its core. Underworld obsidian, green-tinged and rippling with magical power, was even sharper.
All this was to say that when Teomitl idly rolled over and picked up one of Acatl’s knives, turning it this way and that, he was acutely aware of how his lover stiffened. He couldn’t blame him, really; wounds made by these blades festered instead of healing, and even a scratch could mean a slow death. Still... “I just wanted a closer look.”
“You’ve seen them before,” Acatl pointed out. There was a rustling that suggested he was propping himself up on one elbow to keep an eye on him.
Worrywart, Teomitl thought with no small amount of affection. “Usually when you’re using them.” The knife he was holding was excellently made, handed down from one High Priest to the next; the edges gleamed like mirrors, and the hilt had been wrapped in white leather cord. The same sort of white leather cord, in fact, that held Acatl’s hair off his face. The overall effect was of something clean and elegant in its simplicity, with nothing ostentatious to distract from its purpose.
“And?” Acatl’s warm breath wafted over his shoulder. “What do you think?”
Obsidian & Blood, Acatl/Teomitl
Copper and bronze were useful in their own ways, but they required regular sharpening and maintenance. Not so obsidian, which stayed as sharp as the day it had been flaked off from its core. Underworld obsidian, green-tinged and rippling with magical power, was even sharper.
All this was to say that when Teomitl idly rolled over and picked up one of Acatl’s knives, turning it this way and that, he was acutely aware of how his lover stiffened. He couldn’t blame him, really; wounds made by these blades festered instead of healing, and even a scratch could mean a slow death. Still... “I just wanted a closer look.”
“You’ve seen them before,” Acatl pointed out. There was a rustling that suggested he was propping himself up on one elbow to keep an eye on him.
Worrywart, Teomitl thought with no small amount of affection. “Usually when you’re using them.” The knife he was holding was excellently made, handed down from one High Priest to the next; the edges gleamed like mirrors, and the hilt had been wrapped in white leather cord. The same sort of white leather cord, in fact, that held Acatl’s hair off his face. The overall effect was of something clean and elegant in its simplicity, with nothing ostentatious to distract from its purpose.
“And?” Acatl’s warm breath wafted over his shoulder. “What do you think?”
“They remind me of you.”