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A dry tongue ran across dry, cracked lips thoughtfully as the bills slid from one set of tanned fingers to the next. Rafael counted up his daily profit silently in his head, filling up the shared space with thoughts of the cost of living. He may not have been able to read or write very well, but he didn't lack where math was concerned. There was no way he was going to be able to eat like he usually did and still be able to save for a place a little better than whatever seemingly safe overhang he happened to find.

The Game wasn't on his mind. It wasn't the last in line of thought- it simply was not there. He had the ceremonial stick crudely strapped to his back like a staff and he found a use for it every now and then, but hadn't attempted to fight with it yet. And then there was the voice.

Tlaloc didn't like to speak a whole lot, though he was certainly capable of it. He hated to repeat himself. It was expected to have himself be heard and obeyed the first time he said it but this boy... this boy was taking more work than he had originally planned to do. It was outrageous. He was a god, and a damn important one even in this new age- he should be heeded, worshipped. But that just wasn't about to happen right away, and Rafael had no idea exactly whom he was dealing with. Tlaloc had suspicions that the stubborn mite would try not to care even so. He was almost to the point of threatening the boy.

He was reluctant to mention the problem to his wife, but she was bound to find out soon enough. Little did Rafael know, he was wondering right into the path of someone very familiar. Tlaloc wasn't about to do him any favors.

Rafael had begun to pocket the money when a voice arose from behind him. It was the spanish that caught his ear first, more prone to listening to the language than the usual buzz of english. His head turned slightly just in time to see a stack of books maneuvering around him. Zyanya.

The tipping startled him a little, but the result was his quickly moving closer with his arms flung in front of him. As the weight of the books fell onto his biceps, the boy gave a soft grunt and curled them to his chest. He was pretty grounded to begin with, so he was alright, attempting to arrange them into a stack while supported by his abdomen. In the meantime, he got a good look at the other, his suspicions confirmed with a slight scowl.

"Ay, Zyanya, such filth out of your mouth. You kiss your mother with that?" He asked her, forcing his lips to curl into a patronizing smirk.

He did look at the books. Just a glance, however, pondering over just why Zyanya was stocked up with so many. It was like she was preparing for some sort of long winter. He sure as hell couldn't and want to read all these books.

"Because she does not agree with you?" Rafael clucked his tongue lightly and shook his head. A steady stare and a slight upward tilt of his head was his acknowledgment to her thanks. He had to agree with her, though, it was both of their parents who had a hand in putting them in this situation. "I will carry these for you. At least until we get close to your home. I don't need your mother trying to capture me." Generous of him. Maybe it was the thanks. Maybe something else.

Does she? And how did she come across such a valuable tidbit? I am to take it, then, that she is just as clever as you professed.

"Well, they can't marry anyone if the groom is missing," He would retort hotly, setting his jaw firmly even as she thanked him again. The books curled a little closer to his chest, though, and he began to walk alongside her because the way was known to him, one subtle step ahead.

Most excellent, namictli- you have waited long for her to be ready. It is only fitting. And I don't plan to tell him a damn thing. When did telpochtli stop caring about war and power?

The words about his mother tugged Rafael's lips into a thin line, but he would attempt to hide as much by opening his mouth. "Good. Maybe she is learning her lesson. And my father? Our feilds? My siblings? Do you know of them?" All of the worries that the boy had harbored over the past few days came spilling out in a valiant attempt at casualty. Rafael wanted to return- that was the truth of the whole matter. Perhaps life there was far too simple, but that was his family, and if his family needed him... The fact simply was that the twelve-year-old was having trouble coping with the sudden separation even though he was far too stubborn to return at the moment.

Almost more than he is worth, I'm beginning to think. Well, of course she was amused. Hers seemed to be coming along nicely enough, so she could afford to laugh at him. Tlaloc was definitely a bit sour, and he watched her carefully now for her criticisms. He is not as selfish as I could have hoped. His thoughts are always on this little family of his. I'll have to do something about that before he will do anything for me.

"I have to stay away, Zy. One of us does. You want it to be you?" He questioned her, his eyes harsh and expectant. In the next moment, though, he turned them away. It was hard not to blame this all on her, but not even Rafael was going to be so blind. They were children tied to old traditions that were in their blood. They could not escape them but oh, he wanted to. Why did Zyanya have to be the one planned for him? They would have been just fine as friends but a wife? Zyanya was not wife material. If only his and her parents could understand. "Is that all that has happened since I left?"

The compassion that this warrior harbors makes him lack focus. Countered the god, You may be able to afford to keep your prophet full of it, but mine must be able to fight, and win. If he were more selfish his mind would be on the fight. Compassion and feelings were more Chal's thing, not his. He wasn't totally discrediting what she said, but he was waiting to see if she could come up with something better than questioning his memory.

The boy snorted at that disbelievingly. She stopped, however, and so he had to as well. He judged whether or not he would comply with her. Obviously she had something to say to him that required sitting, but he was not so sure he wanted to hear it. Eventually he would though, for whatever reason he had decided he should. He watched her expectantly though, waiting for her to get on with saying something worthwhile. He was so guarded there might as well been two-inch plates of armor on him.

Tlaloc growled to himself at that, gnashing his fangs irritably. Things weren't going the way he wanted them to, and there was only so much the old god could take of that. But Chal was right, at least somewhat. He must mind his temper this time, or risk destroying the boy. There isn't much time to work with, not as we are used to. I cannot wait long for an act of fate that may never come. Your girl is certainly not helping at the moment. He's very worried.

Indeed, the more Zyanya spoke, the closer Rafael's brows knit themselves. Yes, his father would be having his hands full with the added work and the crop. Hopefully that was coming in right. And his mother would be very busy with the children, since he hadn't seen her at the market the times he checked in secret.

His eyes snapped over to focus on Zyanya as she made the suggestion. They were very, very blue. For a moment, he regarded her, sweeping over her clothes and her books. You wouldn't really call her innocent, but she certainly was not learned, couldn't know the weight of what she had just offered him. He would have nothing to lose from accepting it.

Tlaloc chuckled knowingly, perhaps a little spiteful about his prophet's predictability.

"No." He told her gruffly, tearing his gaze away to look at the rest of the world. Anything but her. "If my father is so helpless, he will put the twins to the field, perhaps Elia too. I began my work when I was eight. I know Mama wants them to be more educated, but if things are so bad, the sacrifice will be made. Your mother would never forgive me if I allowed you to go." He turned back to look at her, something sly in his look now. "Besides, I will give you no excuse to abandon your responsibility. You still have things you need to be taught as a woman, hm? No. I am doing fine."

And to prove it, he removed his pay from his overall pocket, showing her the decent stack. He had gained absolutely no income from the work he did for his home, but was provided with whatever sensible need he issued. Still, the novelty of money did not completely escape him. "See? You keep to your books, Zy, and keep an eye on my family for me. What is this you are reading, anyway?"

He turned one of them over in his hand to the spine where he tried not to make a show of squinting. He began to sound out the words under his breath. Zyanya knew this wasn't his strong suit, so he didn't really give a damn if she saw. There were plenty of other things he could do and she couldn't, he was sure.

Personal word count: 1702

He let it be there, perhaps comforted by the way his lids lowered. Amusement was allowed to flash as she made such an exclamation. What do you have to fear from a player that belongs to me? Some day, ultimately, will they not be working together? I say they have their feelings so long as there is no consequence. If nothing else, it may serve as another form of entertainment. Oh yes, he went there. He hadn't toyed with mortals in so long. He wouldn't put it past Chal to be a little sweet on hers, but even she could not resist some of the fascination these sadistic suggestions could produce sometimes.

She snapped at him and his smirk only got a little wider. He definitely wasn't afraid of her frustration, what she may try if it broke her. He let the book go, but it did definitely make him a bit more curious. "Because I am right." It was such an honest answer, so very automatic. She'd know what he meant- he was the man, therefor what he said was correct. Why shouldn't he be stubborn?

"Zyanya," He said, his expression fading to a more serious one. "Our tradition is what sets us apart from these halfblooded mongrels running the streets. To be without a culture, well, they might as well be without a soul. These traditions were made for a reason, and you forget that, I think because you don't know. There is nothing out here for you to run to, nothing better or missing. I... I don't understand how you can try and stand there and say you are better than your mother. She follows tradition." He had become heated as well, but he shook his head because he knew her ways. She was just as stubborn as he was. "You will never find a good man to love you if you refuse to be a good woman."