Chapter Text
Weaving.
The simple, sweet, calming practice of taking the weft, passing it through the shed, and battening it.
You loved it.
While it was easy enough to get into a rhythm and make something pretty, you found that your tapestries would turn out much better if you weren’t surrounded by the dark suffocating space that was your home. It’s not like it was a bad place! Small, yes, but it’s not as if you needed so much space anyway.
It always seemed to be dark in your home, it was lit only by the fire that burned eternally at the hearth. Unfortunately, windows seemed to be an afterthought in your home’s design. The windows that were there were too high up to be of any real use. Perhaps that was the reason you preferred to weave elsewhere. Though, to your understanding, most homes didn’t have any windows at all. So, maybe you were just dramatic.
Regardless, any tapestry you created was nice, that was a fact. But, the ones you created outside your home, surrounded by nature, seemed to glimmer, the colors of your thread brightened as if blessed by your goddess Xochiquetzal, herself. They were stunning. They’d fetch a much higher price at market, too. Then again, maybe you were just fooling yourself.
No matter, you still enjoyed being out, away from your home and away from others.
You breathed out, then in, delighting in the chilly air filling your lungs. The grass and dirt beneath your knees, surely dirtying your white huipil-shirt and orange pants, the sound of running water nearby, the insects and birds harmonizing together, this is what you loved.
You battened the thread, the image you were creating becoming more and more clear as you continued to weave.
You wove the conch shell in the middle now. Once you finished with that, you’d continue to work on the spiraling gradient you were forming, adding small stars in it as you worked. You’d already finished the fern right under the conch shell, you wouldn’t have to weave the one above it for a small while. It looked pretty so far. The colors of the gradient were of night, the conch shell in the middle was bone colored. You hoped to create a glowing effect from the shell and in parts of the gradient. You mixed your threads together to create the effect. Of course, you were too close to the loom to see if it was really working.
You didn’t really have a message or idea to communicate with this one. You drew the idea, along with some others, on amatl and thought this one looked pretty enough to turn into a tapestry.
As you passed the weft through the shed and battened it, your eyes drifted up to the sky. The sky was colored in shades of gorgeous oranges, purples and reds as the sun was beginning to set. Weaving always did make you lose track of time. It was one of those things that couldn’t be helped. Unless there was something you knew had to be done keeping you from getting lost in the thread, you’d let yourself spend hours upon hours doing nothing but weaving.
Your hands keep working on the tapestry even as you rest your eyes for a moment. You’ve been doing this since you were small, your hands know exactly what to feel for and how to move.
In this moment, all worries leave you. No thoughts about what you were going to eat tonight or what you needed from the market entered your mind. This was nice.
Your eyes fluttered open to meet the tapestry. You could stop for today, gather your things and go back to your home.
But.. this was such a nice moment. What if you go home and regret not staying longer? What if there’s a storm tomorrow and you aren’t able to come back here? What if you get sick? Moments like this are fleeting. You look back at the sky, still the same colors as before.
Staying just a moment longer couldn’t hurt.
You were confident in your ability to navigate this part of the forest, even in the dark of night. Besides, it wouldn’t get too dark that fast. You could enjoy this.
You deserved this.
Then suddenly, you felt yourself missing the hearth’s fire.
You hadn’t even noticed the darkness until the usual noises of the forest suddenly ceased. That’s what got you to look up from your loom. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked around. Maybe your eyes had yet to adjust, too focused on the loom, but it seemed much darker than it should be. You stay seated on the grass. You waited for the usual sounds of the forest to resume. One second, then two, then three. Then, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.
Your family had always warned you about what it means for the forest to go silent. Something was going to happen and you most definitely did not want to be here for it.
The silence seemed to scream at you. You needed to leave.
You finally slipped the belt of the loom off and stood up, eyes darting to look around you as you hurriedly moved to untie the string of your loom from the tree branch it hung from.
You used your nails to try and undo the knot. Damn you for tying it so tightly today. Your heart began to beat faster in your chest. You knew panicking was a bad thing to do in a situation like this, if there was a predator around you’d be clocked as prey. But calming down was easier said than done. Anxiety rushed through your body. You quickly turned around, grabbing your bag and grabbing the flint knife you had tucked away, using the blade to free the loom. The blade slipped once, but you managed to cut the string free.
As you turn to grab the end of the loom’s belt, you trip on it.
You’re being too loud.
You stuffed the loom into your bag. Your head whips around as you try to remember where you came from. There! That bird’s nest! You remember seeing it when you found this spot. If you just keep going that way, you’ll get back home.
Running is a bad idea. Slow, calm steps will get you home safe.
You manage only a few steps forward when a bright light draws your eyes up to the sky. Two shooting stars, side by side, seem to grow bigger and bigger before a flash of white light explodes a few yards in front of you.
Your first instinct is to cover your eyes to protect them.
Your second is to hide behind a thick tree.
There’s a large bush next to you. You crouch down to hide in it.
The branches of the bush poke your sides uncomfortably and you’re certain your head must be littered in leaves. You don’t want to peek out of the bush, you don't even fully understand what just took place. Then, you hear voices.
“Earth! How sweet to be back here, don’t you think?” A cheery voice speaks.
“Not really. But, we have a job to do.” This voice sounds much more monotone, but gravelly. The forest is still painfully quiet.
Should you look?
Your heart beats faster. If you didn’t know better, you’d fear it would burst out of your chest. What do you do? Your head spins with prayers to both the gods and your ancestors.
“What I wish is that she didn’t just drop us off in the middle of nowhere. Where are we meant to go from here?” The gravelly voice speaks. What are they talking about?
“I’ll check!” The cheery one chirps out before you hear some shuffling. Something made of glass clinks together. Marbles, maybe?
“Uh… It’s pretty far from here..” You hear a groan. “But, we can make it within a few days!”
“Days! Oh, of course. Coyolxauhqui will be furious.”
“Well, she should’ve dropped us closer.”
“I know, I said that!”
The moon goddess? These two knew the moon goddess? Who were they? Why were they here? What was that thing with the stars? You feel your brows furrow. You move your hand to cover your mouth and nose, wanting to be as silent as possible as you continue to listen.
“You really don’t need to be so angry, you know. You should look at this as an opportunity!” The cheery voice exclaims, you hear movement and the jingling of ayoyotes, like they spun around happily.
“This is a chore. Coyolxauhqui sent us because we happened to be there.” The grumpy one responds, speaking loudly like that would help get their point across.
“Maybe so. But, it’s still an opportunity! If we gain her favor, she will surely reward us.” Ayoyotes jingle again. You want to get a closer look.
“I sincerely doubt it.” They say with a grumble.
Just one peek. You want to see what is going on.
They could be harmless, maybe you’re overreacting.
The two are still going back and forth about something. Something about an ichmecatl. What about a rope was so important, you didn’t pick up. You remove your hand from your mouth, placing it on the soft grass. As slowly and quietly as possible, you crawl toward the edge of the bush. You still can’t see from here.
You raise one of your hands, moving a branch out of the way, providing yourself a window.
You try to locate where the two are. You only see the clearing. Where did they go?
A scream leaves you as a claw grips your wrist and drags you up, out from the false safety of the bush. You nearly scream again as you make eye contact with your captor.
“Look, a human!” The one holding you speaks. The cheery voice belonged to him. He is tall, much more than you. His skin is plumed, bright yellow feathers covering most of him, his forearms and knees fading into an orange color. He wears the clothing of a performer, ayoyotes on his wrists and ankles that clinked together with each movement. Jagged orange rays protrude from his head, as if he were the sun. Some colorful feathers peeked out from behind the rays. He looked like a star from an abstract tapestry you might’ve passed by.
“Let go of me!” You shout, your free arm moving to try and release your hand. It smiles at you for a moment before releasing his hold on you. His teeth are sharp. He doesn’t speak after, but his eyes study you intensely, you feel small under his gaze. You take a step back.
You should run. You need to run. But you can’t. You're frozen.
“Did they always look like that?” The more serious voice speaks now, your head turns in its direction to see another one of the same height a few feet away from you.
This one was different, his skin looked rocky, a dark blue faded into a bright cyan color. He wore the same garb as the other one, except the colors were more suited to his palette. This one had no rays, instead, a thick appendage stemmed from its head. It reminded you of a tlalpiloni. His head was tilted, eyes narrowed as they inspected you.
“Hm…” The cheery one hums loudly as he leans in way too close to inspect your face. You lean back to put some distance between you two but he only leans closer. “I think so! but It’s been a while. Who knows.” He shrugs.
You were at a loss. What was any sane person meant to do in this situation? Would a question anger them? They’re staring at you. What do you do? Your breath quickens. You’re frozen in fear. You feel like a frightened rabbit.
“What are you?” The question leaves your lips before you’re able to stop it. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth in shock once you realize what you’ve said. However, neither of them seem to react negatively. In fact, the feathered one’s smile only grows.
“We’re stars.” He says.
“Of the Centzonhuitznahua.” The other one adds.
Ah.
That explains a lot.
The Centzonhuitznahua, the 400 brothers. The army of Coyolxauhqui, their sister. Attempted murders of the goddess Coatlicue and her son Huitzilopochtli. The ones who want to devour the Earth.
Your shock and fear must be evident because the yellow one begins to laugh. You flinch as his hand reaches up to tap your nose softly.
“You’re cute!” He coos before turning to the other one.
“Aren’t humans cute, Moon?” He asks enthusiastically, turning to face his brother.
You aren’t sure if you should be offended or flattered, but it felt demeaning.
The other one, Moon, shrugs. “Kill it and let’s go already.” He sighs in a bored manner. “We’ve wasted enough time here.”
Your heart drops and you inhale sharply, unable to move in fear. You finally regain some sense of composure, turning to run back to your home, before you’re grabbed by your wrist yet again and pushed into something soft and feathery. A clawed hand grabs your face and tilts it up while another sits on the top of your head, keeping it in place.
“But look how cute it is!” The cheery one whines as he pushes your face to the one called Moon. You make eye contact with him for a moment before realizing your position and struggling to get out. His arms move from your head to hold you in a hug instead.
“Leave me alone!” You grunt as you try to pry his arms off you, but his hold only tightens.
“Oh hush, I won’t let him hurt you.” He says softly. You almost believe it.
You need to warn someone about this. Why would two Centzonhuitznahua be on Earth? You need to tell a priest about this. What if Earth is in danger? You need to travel to Tenochtitlan. Unless, of course, you’re going insane. Are you going Insane?
“Sun. The more time we waste here, the more furious Coyoxauhqui will be. I really don’t care what you do with the human, as long as we get moving.” Moon yells through gritted teeth.
“Let her be furious! She’s the one who dropped us so far. Unforeseen events are bound to take place.” He huffs, still holding onto you as a child might force their dog to cuddle with them.
“You’re a fool, Sun.” Moon scoffs.
“Moon, Moon, haven’t you realized how lucky this is for us? Think, Monkey, Think!” The other one looks exceptionally offended at that. “The artifact is surrounded by godless stone, and since we forgot the rope, we can’t get it. But, y’know who can? Humans! We’ve got our ichmecatl right here!” Moon’s eyes widen a bit as he processes, his expression turning into one of surprise.
Seeing his brother's opinion start to be swayed, he continues.
“And that's not all! Our poking about is bound to be noticed, right? We know that already. Buuuut, the artifact is useless in a human’s hands! So…” Sun gestures for Moon to finish his train of thought.
“So, no one will notice a human getting it.” He mutters, his hand coming up to his mouth as he thinks.
“Exactly!” Sun exclaims.
Moon looks down at you. His eyes are a bright blue. “Would you help us?” He asked. You hadn’t expected him to ask.
“...Will you kill me if I refuse?” You question, holding eye contact with him still.
“No.” He answers.
He could be lying. If he is, and they retrieve this ‘artifact’, the entire Earth could be in danger. You wouldn’t have any chance to warn anyone. What punishment would await you in Mictlan?
His eyes seem genuine, but you do not know him. And you have always been too trusting for your own good.
Perhaps you could run, find someone to take you to Tenochtitlan where you can warn a priest. They’ll consult with the gods, and everything will be okay.
But, should you take that chance?
If you agree, the gods would surely punish you. But, maybe you could convince these two not to go through with their plans. To warn Huitzilopochtli and win his favor. To spare your home and your people.
But would that really work?
“We can guarantee your safety if you come with us.” He speaks again.
You look at the ground for a moment. Both of your options are a gamble.
As a child, you would’ve jumped at this opportunity. The adventure of it might as well have been a plate of delicious honey coated coconut to you then. But you weren’t a child anymore. You understood the dangers of this world. Clearly not as well as you thought, though, considering you were in this situation.
Back then, you knew you’d always get home safe, back into the loving arms of your parents. You didn’t have that guarantee anymore.
Regardless, you were an adult, one who had finally accepted their duties to their nation. You had no need for adventure. Not anymore.
If you ran, what then? You’d get home and pack for a long journey. You’d walk to the city. There, you could get someone to escort you to Tenochtitlan. You’d inform a priest of what you’ve seen, and then you’d go home. But that would only work if you trusted he wasn’t lying.
Not to mention, if running didn’t work earlier, why would it now?
You couldn’t begin to imagine how furious the gods would be if you tried to run, died, and ended up being the reason the Earth was devoured. Or rather, your cowardice being the reason.
If you went with them.. You weren’t completely sure. But, you would have the opportunity to change their minds about this. You could teach them about Earth. You could convince them that Earth, and its inhabitants, are worth saving. But that would only work if you could actually persuade them.
These things weren’t human, there wasn't the slightest guarantee that they could even change their minds. It seemed like they had human feelings, from the little that you’ve observed. However, they could be eternally loyal to Coyoxauhqui. Perhaps they didn’t even possess the ability to change their minds.
Plus, you were sure the gods would be just as furious with you if you failed to change their minds, and ended up actively working against Huitzilopochtli.
But perhaps they would understand that you were trying to do the opposite.
Of course, you had no idea what truly waited for you if you chose either plan.
Neither option was perfect. Both were far from it.
You look back up into his eyes. They seemed to glow a bit. You hadn’t seen eyes like that in anything before. You probably weren’t meant to.
“I will go with you.” You spoke. Your voice was soft, mostly because you couldn’t believe what you were saying.
And because you were scared someone else would hear.
Moon nods in response. There’s a small change in his expression. His features soften, likely surprised by the fact you agreed.
Meanwhile, the one holding onto you tightens his grip, leaning into you a bit.
“Yay! Less work for us!” He squeals cheerfully, right above your ear.
In that moment, you prayed. You prayed to any god that might like to hear.
You prayed for their understanding.
And their forgiveness.