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bitterness will only poison you, not them.”
She was bone-tired and Mother was constantly serving her a meal of platitudes instead of any significant answers or action.
Sometimes you just want to rant and be agreed with that things are unfar
However, she amended her thought when she recalled that she was in the presence of a god who had spoken about yet another god, which would imply that the priest had been wrong about the Almighty One in heaven.
“I am Hun-Kamé, Lord of Shadows and rightful ruler of Xibalba,” he told her. “I thank you for liberating me and for the gift of your blood. Serve me well, maiden, and I shall see fit to reward you.”
and the nagging voice in the back of her head that whispered “adventure.”
I always follow the "adventure" voice
“Do not sell him your soul and you’ll be fine,”
“Neither locks, nor wards, can keep a Lord of Xibalba out. Death enters all dwellings.”
“Power, embedded in the peninsula, radiating from it. There is much magic here. In other parts of the world the ancient gods have gone to sleep, for although gods do not die, they must slumber when their devoted cease in their prayers and offerings.
Dreamers and romantics like her father did not fare well,
Xibalba can be a frightful place, with its House of Knives and its House of Bats and many strange sights, but the court of the Lords of Death also possessed the allure of shadows and the glimmer of obsidian, for there is as much beauty as there is terror in the night.
Since all gods are born from the kernel of mortal hearts, it is no wonder Xibalba reflected this duality.
I love that base for the 'hell' mythos
Fate is a force more powerful than gods, a fact they resent, since mortals are often given more leeway and may be able to navigate its current.
That's such an interesting concept
“Chu’lel,” he said. “It is the sacred life force that resides around you. In the streams, in the resins of trees, in the stones. It births gods and those gods are shaped by the thoughts of men. Gods belong to the place where the chu’lel emanated and birthed them; they may not travel too far.
Like a furnace? she wondered. Did mortals sculpt the forms of gods? And if so, did those forms change? Or were gods inviolable, their visage, once imagined, forever remaining in its original shape?
“As if I would be going around kissing men at the drop of a hat. You kiss him.”
Lol
And if a god feared Death, should she not fear him too, rather than share oranges and conversation with him?
Nah girl, you do you
“Now that I have my ear back I can listen to the voices of the psychopomp and the dead. Let us find a proper crossroad.”
“In Baja California, by the sea, find Tierra Blanca. Find your destiny, Lord of Xibalba, but find your doom, for your brother is more cunning and more powerful than you ever imagined,”
I wasn't anticipating the use of such in-your-face dramatic irony
transmogrified,
Great word
But rest assured that in the underground kingdom of Xibalba, another lord had heard Hun-Kamé’s laughter and could discern its meaning.
Oooooo what does that mean…?
It is not as if the gods do not express anger, envy, and desire. But these are like compartments that may be opened and closed with iron keys, and often the gods exist in a state of placid indifference.
phantasmagoric
Another great word
But then, one must not expect tenderness of death.
“We could try to do this another way, which would involve having to get a shovel and see if we can find a suitable corpse at the cemetery, but when it comes to necromancy, I am guessing you prefer to keep it simple, especially since time is ticking.”
He is unintentionally so funny and is totally calling her bluff
“Dreams are for mortals.” “Why?” “Because they must die.”
It was a new concoction, of the kind that abound in a Mexico happy to invent traditions for mass consumption, eager to forge an identity after the fires of the revolution—but
It all started with Eve and ended with Casiopea, according to him. Serpent, damn viper, that’s what she was.
there is none more fearful of thieves than the one who has stolen something,
“But I suspect trickery awaits us in Baja California. I am not stupid. He has seeded the road and wants us to find him, and therefore I suspect his dream may not be forgotten.”
It's that note of fate that the gods cannot escape
He was always changing, a thousand tiny ripples, tiny tessellations and dark reflections.
“I dreamed you walked the Black Road of Xibalba,” he said. “I did not like this. It is a dangerous path. And I was glad when you woke me. It is not that I think you a coward, Lady Tun, it is that I wish you no harm.”
Here is my guess: she will become a goddess and rule by his side or something similar
he looked at her as if he’d not truly seen her before. And maybe, he had not.
Ahhhh he like, likes her
“I have not lied to you. Why should I deceive you now?”
“Gods move pieces across boards, young man. That is what you are now. Your grandfather was one piece, one move, in a series of moves. It’s your turn now, and it is an honor.” “It sounds like bullshit to me,”
“Words are seeds, Casiopea. With words you embroider narratives, and the narratives breed myths, and there’s power in the myth. Yes, the things you name have power,”
The things you name do grow in power, but others that are not ever whispered claw at one’s heart anyway, rip it to shreds even if a syllable does not escape the lips.
But what mattered was not the veracity of the story, but its power. The symbol. The hidden meaning. A woman and rebirth and the restoration of something lost. A vessel, a conduit through which everything is made anew.
“Blood is the oldest coin. Blood remains.”
“I pledge myself to the Supreme Lord of Xibalba, the Lord Hun-Kamé,” she said, this time with aplomb. Casiopea slid the knife against her throat.
Holy shit
Hun-Kamé looked at Vucub-Kamé with a hard face, the face of the blade against the jugular, but when he leaned down it was to clasp his brother’s shoulder.
Growth can happen, even to gods
The nature of hate is mysterious. It can gnaw at the heart for an eon, then depart when one expected it to remain as immobile as a mountain. But even mountains erode.
He’d fallen in love slowly and quietly, and it was a quiet sort of love, full of phrases left unsaid, laced with dreams.
