Chapter Text
“What’s this supposed to be?” Childe asks, sparing an inquisitive glance in Anacaona’s direction as he scrutinizes what remains of the wooden beams that must have belonged to some structure.
“It used to be a shelter for climbers back in the day, apparently. Well, at least until some fierce winds ripped it from its foundation and threw it down the mountain,” Anacaona answers, an overly casual lilt to her voice that makes the content of her words that much more off-putting.
Childe blinks in disbelief. Meanwhile, Beidou barks out a shocked laugh.
“Here’s to hoping those winds don’t toss us off then,” she jokes. “Would be a real shame after all the climbing we’ve done.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Itzpapalotl hisses, their face having gone pale. “After all the weird stuff we’ve gone through to get here, that could end up becoming true for all we know.”
It is then that Childe looks towards the path ahead of them.
Itzpapalotl’s words have him realizing that the stuff he’s learned in recent memory would be useful, if only he actually handed it over to the rest of the group.
A part of him feels guilty for all of the information he’s been withholding, of course.
But it’s not like there’s a guide out there on how to explain to others that you have a goddess haunting in your dreams because she’s decided that you’re the only one fit to be her champion.
Is that what’s even happening here? Childe has no idea anymore at this point.
The only thing he can really do is keep on trekking onwards, really.
There is a strip of land on the path from the ridgeline of the mountain to its summit that is engulfed by the thick clouds rolling in.
But once their group breaks through the fog, clothes now slightly damp, it becomes readily evident that the summit is only a distance away.
The air is painfully stagnant. Dry, leaving him swallowing around the words that he’s left unsaid.
It is not that it is evening that it feels like that shades have been pulled over his vision, darkening it at the edges.
It is because of something wholly other.
The night personified, perhaps? As trite as a phrase like that feels in the confines of his mind.
It feels too soon. It feels too soon, and yet, at the same time, not soon enough.
He’s been waiting for this moment since he first learned about Tezcatlipoca.
(Has he? Or is that another lie he tells himself, another lie he can add to the growing pile of lies stitching his life together?)
He wants to understand. He wants to understand so badly, and it’s odd that he’s only realizing now the sheer weight there is to his desire, his need to understand.
For someone tainted just like me, you are awfully sure about that.
This voice whispering into his ears is smooth like the surface of obsidian. Sharp like a blade as it sinks into flesh. Ragged like a mirror fracturing into too many pieces.
The smell of smoke wafts into his nose, and he is reminded of that time in his life when it was all that he could smell.
Tezcatlipoca does not step out of the shadows that have settled over the land. Rather, the shadows shift around him, welcoming their lord.
A jaguar, sleek in its form, follows only a few steps after Tezcatlipoca.
It is not the jaguar that adoringly licked his face yesterday. It cannot be, when its eyes are cold as it assesses the motley crew of individuals that stands before it.
Its neck is not adorned with a chain of bells, and yet Childe hears the signature jangle of bells with every motion it makes nevertheless.
“Bells were meant to be heard before a battle,” Tezcatlipoca informs, an indulgent look passing over his face as he scratches the jaguar’s nape. “But I thought it would be rather gaudy and uncomfortable to weigh its neck with bells just to satisfy some preexisting image of myself.”
The jaguar purrs as it leans into Tezcatlipoca’s hand, and the image is so…so odd, so utterly absurd that Childe feels even more on guard than he was before.
“Who the fuck are you?” Anacaona blurts out, already raring for a fight.
“I second her question,” Beidou chimes in. “Tell us who the fuck you are before things get nasty.”
Tezcatlipoca hums contemplatively. “Ah, your friend over here hasn’t told you about me yet? How unfortunate.”
Itzpapalotl glances in Childe’s direction. “This is why you told us to be on our guard here, huh.”
Childe stiffens at their words. Not because it is an accusation, but because the way they said it makes it clear that for them, it is simply a statement of fact.
No room for him to deny it, then.
“You’re taking your sweet time,” Childe says to Tezcatlipoca, avoiding having to meet Itzpapalotl’s knowing gaze.
Tezcatlipoca lets out an amused huff. “Well, there’s no need for me to kill you, is there? It’s not as though Xochiquetzal has truly offered you much value in the scheme of things. I’m sure that once you hear my side of things, you’ll—”
It feels as though something wraps around his vocal chords at that very moment and wrenches words that are not his own out of him.
“Your side of things?” he feels the being breathe out incredulously. “You desecrated my body, you vile stain upon this earth.”
Tezcatlipoca tilts his head in thought. “You know, I was hoping you’d forget about that unfortunate period in our lives.”
Childe feels the rage of this being that has taken hold of him well up within his chest. The being’s rage is made unstoppable now, a torrent transforming itself into a ferocious geyser.
She - Xochiquetzal, for there is no one else it could possibly be - slips out of his throat, a fluid thing that leaves him choking on his spit.
And so, Xochiquetzal finally manifests into the mortal plane, casting away a mirage he hadn’t even realized was there.
All Childe can think about, though, is why it is that he always has to suffer the consequences when it comes to the grudges of divine beings.
He is exhausted. He is so fucking exhausted.
But then—
“You think that chump would last if he kicked him in that fancy foot of his?” Anacaona declares to the group, not even bothering to whisper. “It’s looking awfully fragile, what with it being made of obsidian and all that.”
Beidou snorts. “I think we’re going to have to worry more about how fast this stare down is going to go to shit.”
“Best prepare yourselves then,” Itzpapalotl deadpans. “The lady over there just summoned a weapon out of nowhere.”
Childe begins to laugh hysterically.
They still know nothing about this situation - all because he held all the cards so close to the chest - and yet they’re still here, somehow rolling with the punches.
“You guys are unreal,” he manages to gasp out in between laughs.
Beidou only rolls her eyes, slinging her arm around his shoulders. “And you needed it, clearly.”
He did. By the Archons, he really did.