#their business marketing is based on rumors for gods sake

[saelterlude]

latest manhua chapter perfectly explains why i get mildly annoyed when someone refers to cheng xiaoshi and lu guang (as individuals) as time agents.

i know its bcs of translation, but time agents sounds so official and like, no? these 2 dudes arent agents. agents are cool black suits or combat gear with big agencies behind them. MIB type of stuff.

these 2 dudes are fresh graduates running a side hustle for some extra money. they aint agents. theyre the furthest thing from agents. get it straight.

[notapaladin]

a little mystery to figure out

The rumors reaching Nezahual’s ears can’t be true. They suggest that Tenochtitlan’s Master of the House of Darts and the High Priest for the Dead are...together, and Nezahual’s met Acatl. No, Teomitl is clearly going to be pining forever.

He decides to visit his sister city, and learns much more than he really wanted to.

Also on AO3!

-

Not for the first time, Nezahual reflected that his life couldn’t get any better than this. He was a healthy young ruler with slaves to serve his every whim and his pick of lovely, inventive concubines to share his mat; he had only to wave a hand, and a dozen servants would rush to attend him. The mat spread out in his palace gardens boasted two thick cloaks and a deer pelt to cushion his reclining form, and above him a pair of noisy motmots fluttered like living jewels.

By his side, his current favorite concubine—Miyahuaxochitl—picked up a delicately carved rosette of fruit, studying it for a moment before popping it into her mouth. “Hm.”

He put an arm around her, pulling her a little closer. “Is it not to your taste?”

She thought for a moment and shook her head. “No, my lord, it is. Forgive me, I was only...thinking.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t an accusatory question—of course she was entitled to the contents of her own head, though he’d never been especially impressed by her sagacity—but she flinched anyway. He registered, belatedly, that he’d been using what his childhood playmates had called the “creepy snake face,” the one that supposedly made him look like a rattlesnake eyeing a bird’s nest. It wasn’t like he could help being curious, but when you were an agent of Quetzalcoatl, that apparently came with side effects. Oops.

At least she got over her unease quickly. “About the tales you told of your last visit to Tenochtitlan. Working with Teomitl-tzin and Acatl-tzin.”

“...Thinking about other men?” He smiled.

“Not like that.” As he hope she would, she shoved him lightly and pretended to take offense. “I was wondering how Teomitl-tzin’s marriage is going. I don’t like to think of anyone being unhappy in love.”

“His wife is the Guardian of the Duality in Tenochtitlan.” And absolutely the most terrifying woman I’ve ever met. Too bad Teomitl snatched her up first. We might have killed each other, but gods, I’d die happy. He twined a lock of Miyahuaxochitl’s hair around his fingers. “I’m sure it’s going fine.”

She didn’t seem soothed. Her gaze drifted over the sparkling water of the nearest fountain as she replied, “...Well...yes, my lord, but…”

“But?”

For a long moment, she silently traced meaningless patterns over his bare chest. It tickled, but not enough for him to be distracted from her words when she finally spoke. “It’s only that...you mentioned he seemed awfully close with her brother.”

“Acatl is his teacher.” But even as he spoke, his mind whirled. The pup is often angry—I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s his base emotional state—but when Acatl was accused of treason...gods, he was frantic, and not on his own behalf. And there’s the way he looks at him when Acatl can’t see him... Nobody looks at another person like that if they aren’t at least a bit infatuated.

Miyahuaxochitl had clearly reached the same conclusion far ahead of him. He mentally revised his opinion of her brainpower. “Mm. That’s...not the kind of closeness I mean…”

Anyone who could do the things she could with her tongue had no business blushing like that at a mere insinuation. And she hasn’t even seen them together. I swear the only time Teomitl wasn’t glaring at something was when he was looking at Acatl. “You really think so?”

She nodded. “I listen when the slaves talk amongst themselves. They all say that when those two were guests at your summer palace, they seemed...very close. And some of the merchants, too—rumor has it that Acatl-tzin never used to even step foot in the palace until he met Teomitl-tzin, and now he’s there all the time.”

He found himself remembering the last time he’d been in their combined presence. The bloodstained courtyard. The ghosts. The ahuizotls, all teeth and claws. And the way Teomitl had looked at Acatl, even with his sword drawn and visions of the Turquoise-and-Gold crown filling his head. Well. That would certainly explain a lot. I wonder if...no. If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I’d question whether Acatl even had blood in his veins. The poor pup is doomed.

The thought made him grin. There was, after all, a way for his life to improve—watching Teomitl splutter in impotent rage. “I think it’s time I spend a week in Tenochtitlan again.”

&

Pomp and circumstance were, of course, the prerogative of a Revered Speaker traveling to an allied city. But for once, Nezahual found himself curious as to what would happen if he took the subtle approach. Accordingly, his boat docked in the Atempan calpulli—if the memories of his spies served, Acatl had been from there—and he prepared himself for a nice, long walk on a sunny day. He’d even taken the steps of leaving his guards with the boat and most of his jewelry; they would follow an hour or so behind, to be ready in case he needed them. Meanwhile, in his least elaborate cloak, he could pass for a nobleman’s child instead of an Emperor for a day.

Ah, the sacrifices he made for the sake of information.

For being the domain of peasants, the calpulli really wasn’t as shabby as he’d imagined it would be. Children ran underfoot just as they did in the outskirts of his own city, and women called to each other as they spun thread and ground corn. He’d been walking for perhaps half an hour, heading deeper into the city, when he heard a name that gave him pause.

A group of women had gathered in an open courtyard to spin maguey fibers; one, middle-aged, sat down on the outside of their little circle and commented, “Saw our Acatl the other day.”

Acatl was a common name, but the degree of pride in her voice suggested he was more than just a fellow peasant. If he squinted, he thought he could make out a certain family resemblance—that girl shared his nose, and that woman had a precise copy of his jaw. Cousins, then. He made a production of stretching and leaning against the wall of the opposite house, for all the world as though he was fascinated by the birds in the tree branches above, and watched as a woman with red ribbons twined through her marriage braids perked up noticeably at her words. “Oh? How’s he doing?”

Their arbiter of knowledge grinned as she set her spindle whirling. “Seemed to be doin’ quite well for himself; had a nice new pair of silver earrings and all.”

Now that was interesting; Acatl was entitled to a degree of splendor as a High Priest, but her tone suggested he’d only recently begun to take advantage of it. Red Ribbons nudged the woman next to her. “Remember when he went off to calmecac and announced he’d stay on as a priest? His parents were furious!”

General sighs around the circle. Nezahual privately marked down Acatl’s parents as idiots.

A buxom woman in a flower-embroidered blouse muttered, “What a waste.”

Though this mildly blasphemous statement seemed to meet with some approval, the older woman let out a defensive huff. “Hey—he’s an excellent priest! Our Acatl, a High Priest!”

Flower Blouse sighed wistfully, a motion which did interesting things to her chest. “I know, Auntie. I’m sure you’re proud. But...he’s so handsome.”

There were collective nods. One girl clasped a hand to her chest and gazed wistfully up at the heavens, as though the mere thought of Acatl was enough to send her into rapture. Nezahual raised an eyebrow. While that is certainly an apt enough descriptor if you’re into older men, his personality...then again, I do seem to have a knack for running into him in stressful times. Stressful times he’d occasionally caused, but that was besides the point.

Red Ribbons looked thoughtful. “No wonder all the girls were so upset. Remember Huchimitl?”

A slender woman with her hair in a maiden’s plait smirked at her. “Just the girls? Because I remember your husband, when he was young—”

“Her husband, then? My brother, now! You should have heard him when he was at the boy’s calmecac, it was all Acatl-tzin this and Acatl-tzin that—“

“Girls!” Their auntie aimed a scorching glare around the circle, and all five of them suddenly found their spindles utterly fascinating. “You should be ashamed, gossiping like that about our High Priest for the Dead!”

The maiden was either brave or suicidal. “Auntie, you started it…”

“I was merely telling you what I saw!” She sniffed. “Ridiculous girl, it’s hardly my fault if our Acatl wants to finally take advantage of his place in the world—the Duality knows it took him long enough. Why, I remember when you all were young...”

Judging by the assembled eye-rolls and badly stifled groans, it seemed she was about to break into one of the dreaded When I Was Your Age speeches bemoaned by younger generations everywhere. Nezahual had heard his fair share as a child, and had no intention of staying and listening to this one.

Accordingly, he pushed off from the wall and continued on his way with a thoughtful hum. Clearly, Teomitl would have significant competition in the—vanishingly unlikely, he’d seen the way Acatl reacted to the suggestion of sexual intercourse—event of Acatl ever breaking his vows of chastity. Still, he mused. New earrings, for a man who never wears any. The pup must be trying very hard.

Hm. His last meal had been just after dawn, and he was getting hungry. The market should be packed at this time of day, and he had an excellent memory of a certain old grandmother’s tamales. He steered himself towards it.

&

Tenochtitlan’s main market was, indeed, packed. He felt the cacao beans and gold-filled quills wrapped in his cloak, gaze drifting over stalls selling jewelry and knives and caged animals. A woman on a spread-out blanket was haggling intently over the price of a caged parrot; her neighbor was trying desperately to interest a sacred courtesan in a length of orange cotton. At another time he might have bought both—he could always use a sacrifice to Xochiquetzal, just to be polite—but the smell of roasted meat was distracting.

He wound up buying two tamales, leaning against a tree to eat them just in time to avoid bumping into a porter with a load of bulky, fragile feather fans. Quetzal feathers predominated, a blazing iridescent green, but he spied bright blue cotinga and the delicate reddish-pink of spoonbill feathers as well. They were fit for a nobleman, if not the imperial court itself, and he wondered which featherworker’s shop had turned them out.

They were apparently quite impressive to the merchant manning a blanket full of wicker baskets, who remarked, “...Big order.”

The porter shrugged, adjusting his hold as the topmost fan made a bid for freedom from its carrying strap. “Oh, these? Straight to the Temple of Mictlantecuhtli.”

“Again?!”

“Yep.”

The merchant blinked slowly. “...Tlaloc’s green dick, who died?”

Another shrug. The errant fan hit the ground, and he swore as he knelt to pick it up. “Nobody important, so far as I know. At least, not recently.”

Given the way the merchant leaned forward, eyes gleaming as he lowered his voice, he’d come to the same conclusion Nezahual was rapidly arriving at himself. Such expensive feathers were either payments for services rendered, or...well. Payments for services you hoped would be rendered. Nezahual stopped chewing momentarily, the better to eavesdrop on the man’s murmur of “Must be a personal gift.”

That got a snort and a badly hidden grin. “Dunno why they bother. Acatl-tzin’s just gonna sell ‘em and give the proceeds to the poor anyway.”

“Pft, you have no romance in your soul—oh, I’ll let you go.” He’d spotted a potential customer, and beamed encouragingly at the woman who’d made the mistake of getting too close with intent to buy.

As the porter trudged off, Nezahual returned his focus to his lunch. They were really excellent tamales, spiced meat punctuated by the sharp bite of roasted chilies. He wondered if the woman who sold them would be interested in moving to Texcoco. It’s generally frowned upon to kidnap your allies’ citizens, but I might just risk it for more of these. It wasn’t like Tizoc would care, after all. Acatl might—the man was irritatingly principled—but a man who would sell that many expensive gifts to feed the poor probably wouldn’t complain too strenuously if one old woman got a new job in Nezahual’s palace kitchens.

He shook his head, biting back the smirk that wanted to escape. Poor, stupid Teomitl. That’s not a man that can be bribed onto your mat.

A pair of market girls passed by arm in arm, snapping their gum. He was about to tune them out, but their chatter snuck into his ears anyway.

The one in the pink blouse had a particularly chirpy voice; it would be just the thing to cheer him up after a tedious day, as long as she never brought up her current conversational topic again. “Did you really see the Master of the House of Darts down by the knife-seller the other day?”

Her companion—pale blue skirt, yellow makeup—nodded cheerfully. “Mm-hmm!”

A long, wistful sigh. “Mihmatini-tzin is so lucky.”

Blue Skirt puffed her cheeks out thoughtfully. “I wonder when he’ll take a concubine or two…”

That earned her a cheerful, laughing shove. “What, you think you’ll stand a chance?”

She was promptly shoved back, nearly colliding with a young man carrying a load of blankets as she cackled. “I just might!”

The joy in both girls’ faces was infectious, and Nezahual found himself with a genuine grin. Pink Blouse was smirking widely at her friend, showing off teeth that had been dyed a brilliant red. “You’ve got some competition, don’t you?”

“...Hm. I guess so. But...Teomitl-tzin’s really handsome.”

While Nezahual found himself regretting his decision to go incognito—neither girl had noticed him, and he was sure they’d revise their opinion of Teomitl’s supposed good looks if a better option presented himself—Pink Blouse let out a crack of laughter. “Hah!” Gum snapped cheerfully between her teeth as she added, “You’re not the only one who thinks so, I’ll tell you!”

He wondered who those people were—besides Mihmatini, who was proof positive that love made you blind and stupid. Nobody who looked that much like Tizoc could be that handsome, surely. Maybe on a foggy night. At a good distance. But before they could elaborate, he lost them in the crowd.

Both tamales were becoming distant memories, and he closed his eyes against the glare of the day to ponder his next move. Atempan and the markets had been enlightening, but they wouldn’t give him the answers he sought. He knew the palace would be his best bet, but there would be questions and politics and Tizoc there, none of which he especially felt like dealing with. At least not yet.

The Sacred Precinct was on his way, so he’d walk slowly. And if he engaged in the time-honored pastime of flirting with the next pretty girl he saw, that was absolutely besides the point.

&

It was mid-afternoon by the time he crossed over the canals to the Precinct walls, but the open plaza was as crowded as the markets had been. He kept his ears open and his mouth shut anyway. You could learn a lot from gossip if you were quiet. You could learn even more if you were Quetzalcoatl’s agent in the Fifth World, but he decided not to press his luck yet. His attendants were still keeping a significant distance behind him, and calling on the Feathered Serpent was something he preferred not to do in public. People always made such a fuss when your eyes rolled back in your head and spectral scales shimmered along your arms.

Ahead of him, one priest of Huitzilopochtli was huddling with another. He slowed his pace and pretended to be very interested in the sight of two sacred courtesans bickering.

The younger of the two priests was looking around warily, but his gaze slid right past Nezahual without seeing him. He clearly had different, worse problems. “...Quenami-tzin still seething?”

“Mmyep.”

“...I think I’ll take the long way back to the temple.” Nezahual couldn’t judge the priest for his wince; being under Quenami’s power had been bad enough for him, and he had been an Emperor since boyhood.

It didn’t take a genius to imagine why he was in a bad mood now. He remembered that load of feathers for the temple of Mictlantecuhtli, and smirked to himself. I can only imagine what he thinks of a peasant’s son accruing so many riches—and then to give them away! All because Teomitl thinks Acatl is one to be courted like a maiden.

The older and wiser priest nodded, but he was already distracted. The two bickering courtesans had descended to a screaming match, with vocabulary even Nezahual hadn’t heard employed in quite that way. It was fascinatingly undignified. “Good idea.”

“I mean, can you blame him?”

“It’s not Acatl-tzin’s fault that he—“

But Nezahual’s pace had slowed too much, and whatever wasn’t Acatl-tzin’s fault was lost when he nearly collided with a priestess carrying an armload of bloodstained grass balls. Since they had a regrettable tendency to roll all over the place when dropped, and since he had been raised with manners, he had to stop and help her pick them up. By the time they were finished, the priests had moved off.

He sighed. There was nothing for it; he’d have to enter the palace.

&

As he’d predicted, it was a unique form of torture. He’d met up with his attendants, so at least he was properly dressed for the obligatory good-to-see-you-glad-you’re-not-dead-yet audience with Tizoc-tzin, but having to listen to the man’s voice sucked all the pleasure out of what should have been a soothingly rote speech. It would take time for a proper banquet to be arranged, leaving him with several hours of free time he seriously debated spending in the women’s quarters. It would probably be worth it if he got caught. Tizoc was almost definitely not up to the task of entertaining a lady, and the women were sure to be bored.

He’d made up his mind to try it when he ran into Teomitl. Almost literally ran into, in fact; the man was striding through the palace corridors at his usual brisk pace, only to stop dead when he saw him. He was wearing the red cloak of an off-duty Master of the House of Darts and a frown.

After a pause just long enough to be insulting, he addressed him. Aww, he was learning politics. “Nezahual-tzin.” A stiff, perfunctory bow. “What brings you here?”

“Would you believe a diplomatic visit?” He tried for his most winning smile.

It didn’t work. Teomitl’s eyes narrowed, and when he drew himself up Nezahual realized that the man was still taller than him. Every line of his body screamed irritation. “...No.”

He paused for an instant, considering, and then let his smile widen. It had always been fun to needle Teomitl, even when they were children—the man was always so serious, so dignified. Of course there was a place for such things, but if the man was in love...it would be terribly amusing to watch that dignity crack. “It is! I heard some very...interesting things about your lovely city on my way here, you know.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Apparently Acatl-tzin’s very well-liked.”

Teomitl’s fists clenched briefly, then relaxed. Oh, he was touchy. “As he should be.”

And quick to jump to Acatl’s defense, as well—there’d been no hesitation in his words. Nezahual remembered the day they’d rescued Acatl from a traitor’s death; it had been the only time he’d ever seen Teomitl so frantic. Acatl had been oblivious then, and he was oblivious now. “A shame he hasn’t noticed. I’ve heard he’s gotten some expensive gifts recently.”

“Mm.” His jaw was tight, and he was resolutely not meeting Nezahual’s gaze. There was a faint tinge of red in his dark face.

Nezahual fought an urge to snicker. Allied ruler or no, they were presently alone in the courtyard and he didn’t particularly care for being punched in the face. The jade rod piercing his septum as a symbol of his rule was just as breakable as his nose was, after all. “Is he the sort of person who enjoys a bit of luxury? Do you suppose he’s the sort of person who’d then think kindly of the sender? You know him so well, after all.”

Teomitl sucked in a breath. “I suppose it’s none of your business, Nezahual-tzin. Good day.”

Then he stormed off, and Nezahual didn’t stop him. Baiting Teomitl was highly entertaining, but he’d had his try at that for the moment. Until the banquet, he’d enjoy himself in more leisurely pursuits.

The banquet, when it came, was fascinating to watch.

Mihmatini and Teomitl sat together, and he found himself studying them. She was radiant in feathers and jewels, but were her eyes tight around the edges? Did she suspect that her husband was besotted with someone else? It had been blindingly obvious to him even when he’d attended their wedding; he’d made it through the ceremony and half the feast before he’d had to sneak off to laugh himself sick. Mihmatini was an intelligent woman, but...well, love did make you blind.

Or maybe she’s just trying not to see it. Of course, all men took their pleasure where they pleased, but he imagined it had to be much different—much worse for the wife—when the one your husband had designs on was your own elder brother. But they weren’t acting as though anything was amiss; as the evening wore on, she leaned against her husband’s shoulder, and Nezahual strongly suspected she was holding his hand where he couldn’t see. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think Teomitl had never gone behind her back to overthrow his brother.

...Speaking of brothers…

He turned his gaze to Tizoc’s gilded screen. Tizoc had always hated priests in general and Acatl in particular; his attempt to get the man killed proved that. The part of Nezahual’s mind that was always turning over schemes and inspecting them from new angles wondered idly how he’d react if he knew his younger brother was interested in his greatest foe, if that was something he could use...but no, he wouldn’t sink that low. Teomitl was not an enemy he wanted to have when the man became Revered Speaker in his turn. And an enemy I’d have in truth, if I did something to jeopardize the life of his favorite priest.

Who, to Nezahual’s surprise, was in attendance. Apparently his unannounced visit was judged a significantly important occasion to merit the presence of all three High Priests. Acatl was seated between his fellows, wearing full regalia and an expression which suggested that if either man tried to speak to him, he’d drown them in their soup bowls. Next to him, Quenami was grinding his teeth; it appeared his foul mood had persisted all day, and Nezahual would bet quite a lot that it had something to do with the silver earrings in Acatl’s ears. They weren’t large or ornate, but they glittered where they caught the torchlight.

As he watched, Acatl turned his head in Teomitl’s direction, and their eyes met. Teomitl, caught in the middle of raising a soup bowl to his lips, flushed and set it down.

Nezahual tried very hard not to start cackling into his grilled turkey.

&

In the end, the confirmation of all those rumors was an accident. He really didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But he’d been about to turn in for his own mat when the idea struck him, and so before he could think better of it he was on his way to Teomitl’s chambers. Maybe the man would spill something interesting if he prodded him hard enough.

Teomitl’s chambers turned out to be occupied.

Very occupied.

To give them credit, they were trying to be quiet; if he hadn’t been actually in the courtyard and aiming for silence himself, he might not have heard them. But there was a very familiar rustle of cloth, and the distinct crackle of a thin reed mat, and then—

He knew that voice. He knew it very well, even though he’d never heard it like that.

“Ah, hah, Acatl…”

Impossible.

He sat down hard in the packed dirt, feeling his world rearrange itself to make room for the noises he was hearing. That was Teomitl, half-breathless with pleasure, and that was Acatl’s answering indistinct murmur, and that was the faint slap of flesh against flesh, and that was the steady rustling of reed mats under a man’s weight. He’d thought Teomitl pining, trying desperately to catch his dignified tutor’s attention. The idea that he’d succeeded...

He realized he faced a crossroads. He could slink away while they were busy with each other—undoubtedly the honorable choice. He could interrupt them—crude, dishonorable, and likely to result in severe physical pain if not immediate death.

Or he could sit down in Teomitl’s courtyard to wait.

He found himself waiting for a long time—enough to pick out the constellations above his head and develop a certain respect for Acatl’s stamina, but not long enough for him to fully pin down what he was going to say. It seemed he might owe Teomitl some sort of apology, which was a distasteful thought. He could bear it, though. Apologies, advice, perhaps some gentle mockery—yes, that was how he’d deal with this.

Eventually the sounds from within faded to a quiet conversation, and then to the faint rustle of someone getting to their feet. He glanced idly at the entrance curtain as its bells jingled, taking in the sight of a formerly-chaste High Priest making his escape from a lover’s embrace. The key word there being formerly; Acatl may have once sworn a vow of chastity and celibacy, but he’d clearly not so much broken it as shattered it to pieces and performed a merry dance on the shards. There were the faint marks of teeth in his collarbone and bruises at his hip, and his previously neat hair was in disorder.

Oh, and he was staring at Nezahual in open horror, such that Teomitl scrambled up off the mat and all but knocked him aside in order to take up a protective stance in the doorway. Any moment now, the open horror would transmute itself to outrage.

Absolutely nothing could have stopped his tongue. “You two seem to have had a very pleasant evening.”

Teomitl had clearly gotten as good as he gave; there were the beginnings of some fantastic marks on his throat. Much more important, however, was that his eyes had gone solid jade, and the air was starting to fill with the scent of the lake. “You.”

“Teomitl!” Acatl seemed to have shaken off his horror; now he laid a hand on his lover’s arm as though that alone would stop him from doing violence. Then again, he’d seen the man accomplish the same with words before.

“Acatl…” It came out in a snarl. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off Nezahual, who was beginning to feel some mild concern.

“Look, if you kill him, it’s a diplomatic incident and it’ll start a war with Texcoco!”

“...And?”

“And I think Tizoc-tzin will probably want to know why!”

Nezahual decided he could probably risk interjecting. Acatl was being reassuringly sensible about the whole thing, and Teomitl’s eyes were returning to their normal dark brown. “I heard some very interesting rumors in Texcoco. You’re lucky that Tizoc-tzin never thinks beyond threats to his person.”

He watched as Acatl and Teomitl exchanged uneasy looks. It was Acatl who spoke, with his gaze fixed on Nezahual; the air around him grew measurably colder, though it didn’t seem to affect Teomitl at all. “...Rumors?”

He’d had a lot of time to stitch together the day’s overheard conversations into a cohesive whole, and he discovered he was amused by the tapestry it presented. “You two, together, seem to be rather a...popular notion among the people of Tenochtitlan. Aside from Huitzilopochtli’s clergy, of course.”

Both men recoiled for a moment, their faces red, and then they spoke at once. “I—“

“—That is—“

He held up a hand. “I won’t breathe a word.”

Teomitl’s eyes narrowed, cold as the bottom of the lake. He saw jade reflections dance in their depths. “You wouldn’t be so accommodating unless you want something from us.”

He’d also had a lot of time to determine what that something would be. It seemed a simple favor, and one unlikely to cause offense. Not with what he’d seen. “...Should Tizoc-tzin’s death come with a reasonable amount of warning…”

He paused, watching the way both men stiffened. Acatl’s fingers twitched as though to take Teomitl’s hand before he visibly pulled himself back; Nezahual couldn’t help but smile. As though we don’t all know the useless craven isn’t long for this world.

“You let me tell him on his deathbed.”

Teomitl was still suspicious, but he seemed inclined to listen. “...Why?”

“Star-demons,” he said promptly. He’d seen them only at a distance, but the carnage—the bodies in pieces, such as he’d never even seen on the worst battlefields—had stuck stubbornly in his mind. And to know it was Tizoc’s fault...yes, he’d be very much pleased with the chance to make the man’s last moments that little bit worse.

“...I’ll give you that,” Teomitl muttered.

“Excellent!” He affixed a charming grin to his face. “So we have an accord. I must confess, I really hadn’t expected Acatl-tzin to be swayed by pretty silver earrings. I would have held out for solid gold—“

Through gritted teeth, Acatl snapped, “I think you should leave.”

Since he didn’t want to be an ahuitzotl’s dinner—an annoyingly likely scenario, given the way Teomitl was vibrating with rage—he left. Quickly.

EXTRA: Some Weeks Earlier

Teomitl’s life changed irrevocably over lunch, of all things.

He’d started showing up at Acatl’s house with tamales after a long, frustrating argument with the rest of the war council regarding preparations for the next campaign, when he’d only wanted to comfort himself with the thought that at least he could do one useful thing by making sure the man he loved remembered to eat that day. It had quickly become a routine. Hearing Acatl’s voice, seeing him smile...it was good. It was all he would ever get, but it was good. He’d become an expert at ruthlessly beating back the corner of his heart that still stupidly yearned for more. He knew he wasn’t going to get it.

Even if Acatl kept looking at him. And smiling. And laughing, sometimes, a half-disbelieving chuckle that made his heart do unpleasant things in his chest.

Acatl wasn’t laughing now. He’d seemed preoccupied all day, and barely picked at his food. Teomitl’s chest hurt, and he told it sternly to cease. If you keep doing this to me, he told his heart, I will have you removed. Today’s meal had been worryingly quiet.

Acatl broke the silence without looking up from his half-eaten tamale. “...I heard some...interesting rumors from my cousins yesterday.”

Teomitl swallowed. Acatl had a lot of cousins. Not as many as he did—he could still count them all and didn’t need a chart to figure out how they were related—but a lot. It was probably nothing. “Oh?”

“They seem to think your feelings for me are…” He trailed off, and Teomitl had the pleasure of seeing him blush. It almost distracted him from the heartstopping terror coursing through his veins. “...Not quite platonic.”

“Ngyrk,” he said intelligently.

Acatl dropped his gaze to the floor. “...I try not to give credence to gossip.” He swallowed visibly. “But.”

“But,” he echoed. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, the earth he sat on would sink into the lake. Or one of the gods—at this point he wasn’t picky—would strike him down.

Acatl drew a slow, hesitant breath. He still wasn’t looking at him, and Teomitl realized his hands were starting to shake. His own were only spared that indignity by balling themselves up into fists so tight that his nails cut into his palms. “...If...they were accurate…”

He managed to force the words out somehow. I am no coward. If he’s going to throw my heart back in my face, I can damn well meet it head-on. “If they were? What would you do, Acatl-tzin?”

“...I’d say we should be more discreet, for starters.”

We. His heart leapt, and this time he didn’t tell it to stop. He could barely breathe; the dread had faded, and pure joy was fizzling up to replace it. “Does that mean you—“

Acatl pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help him up as well. “It means, I think we should continue this discussion inside.”

They didn’t wind up doing much talking.

[virtual-lara]

AVault - Philip Campbell Interview - Tomb Raider 1: Unfinished Business

Interview appeared on AVault website, dated sometime 1998. Article was written by David Laprad.

On Friday, March 20, Eidos Interactive gave legions of Lara Croft fans a very nice thank you in the form of four free add-on levels for the original game. Called Tomb Raider Gold, these never-before-seen levels were designed by Phil Campbell, producer and designer for a number of Eidos titles. The new levels are split into two sections: Unfinished Business and The Shadow of the Cat. Unfinished Business consists of two expert levels chronicling Lara's dramatic return to Atlantis, where she must destroy a hidden alien hatchery. The Shadow of the Cat levels take players back to the City of Khamoon to embark on an all-new adventure. The Adrenaline Vault was able to catch up with a busy Campbell and get his insight into the Tomb Raider Gold design process and all things Lara Croft.

AVault:

Thank you for taking time to speak with us. How long have you been involved with the world of Tomb Raider?

Philip Campbell:

I have been doing Tomb Raider-related work since March of last year. I was not involved with the original game at all. When Jeremy and Adrian Smith saw my work on another Eidos project, they asked me if I would like to design some expert levels. I worked at Core in England for a couple months creating concepts for a number of possible levels. Subsequently, I designed and built the two Unfinished Business levels. Later, I designed the Shadow of the Cat levels with the help of Rebecca Shearin, a senior artist here at Eidos.

AVault:

What other game development experience do you have?

Philip Campbell:

I started work at Domark in San Mateo a few years ago. Before that, I had been an architect for 15 years. Initially, I was art director on a couple of projects, and now I am handling producer and designer roles on a number of projects. Currently, I am working on Vermin with Kronos Digital and Omikron with Quantic Dream. I guess I am the office handyman! I try to get involved in all design related projects, ranging from external development to Tomb Raider publications, comics, and merchandising.

AVault:

Where does your work take you?

Philip Campbell:

Technically, I am a senior producer and designer working for Eidos USA and based in San Francisco. However, my current schedule has me spending six weeks in Paris working on Omikron and two weeks in Los Angeles working on Vermin. In Paris, I just completed the recording and motion capture sessions, and am currently concentrating on level designs. Although I work for the publisher, I supplement the Omikron design team. On Vermin, Tom Marx and I form a production team, helping the external developers with design issues. We have been very involved with this project from the beginning and are trying to break down the traditional concept of publisher and developer relationships by working closely with the team on all aspects of the game. Back in the U.S., I am currently designing a marketing, packaging, and website campaign for Omikron with the marketing department, and working on another Tomb Raider product.

AVault:

Working on another Tomb Raider product? Do tell!

Philip Campbell:

[to the sounds of his hands being tied by public relations] Soon! Very soon!

AVault:

Why is Eidos publishing Tomb Raider again, this time with extra levels?

Philip Campbell:

Tomb Raider Gold is an added value product. The four new levels, extra goodies, and the low price make it a great deal. There are probably a lot of new converts to Tomb Raider following Tomb Raider 2, and we wanted to make it easy for them to pick up the rest of the story.

AVault:

It is rumored the Unfinished Business levels are for expert players only. What special challenges confront players in these levels?

Philip Campbell:

The two levels that detail Lara's return to Atlantis are meant to follow directly from the end of the original game; therefore, we had to make sure the difficulty was as high, or higher, than the preceding levels. I do not think they are that difficult, but the player who really wants a test should play them before the Shadow of the Cat levels to limit the number of pickups and weapons.

AVault:

You do realize cruelty in game design is a punishable crime.

Philip Campbell:

I do not think we are being cruel! Devious, yes. Even sneaky. Hard, but fair. I think the levels reward careful play. No enemies materialize from thin air, nor are there random deaths, except for that one situation....

AVault:

Do the new levels concentrate on adventure-style puzzles, similar to the King Midas brain-buster from the original, or are they more focused on action, like the sequel?

Philip Campbell:

Both, although there may be a slight emphasis on action. The nature of the Atlantean foes makes them very tough enemies. On the other hand, the first Unfinished Business level is like a puzzle box. You must have an understanding of where rooms are in relation to one another. The Shadow of the Cat levels are more focused on mystery and mysterious puzzles. The player can get cat visions, and some objects transform. I loosely based a series of room puzzles on the Nine Lives of the Cat, an Egyptian hierarchy of gods. For instance, there is the Sun God room, where everything looks like it has been bleached out by the intense rays.

AVault:

Describe the conceptual development of these levels. Did you do any special research, and run into any unique design problems? I imagine you drew upon your experience as an architect.

Philip Campbell:

The Unfinished Business levels are based around a tight architectural construct. There are a lot of transparencies highlighting the connections between the various spaces. I imagined a giant underground hatchery, built out of the synthesis of a crumbling ancient architecture and a horrific kind of gunk. This is why you will find some very organic areas growing out of some fairly formal sets of rooms. Of course, everything is built upon the fiery red lava, and I wanted the lava to be constantly bubbling and popping throughout the levels. I worked around a lot of concepts I felt constituted good level design, such as foreshadowing events, allowing the player overall tactical views before a confrontation, building up the intensity as the action progresses, all the time considering dramatic camera angles and dramatically designed spaces. I did the Shadow of the Cat levels because I loved the Egyptian look in the original game, and wanted to add to the mythology of Khamoon. I did do a bit of research into Egyptian lore and culture, but mostly I imagined huge outside spaces, vast expanses of desert, and gigantic pyramids.

AVault:

Describe the actual dynamics of constructing the levels.

Philip Campbell:

The editor was a joy to work with. Rather than feeling like I was building models, plane by plane, vector by vector, I felt as though I was sculpting space, taking a solid block of matter and carving out an environment. Designing Tomb Raider levels involves a lot of late nights, on-the-spot testing, and subsequent tweaking and rebuilding. One of the great advantages of the editor is you can test as you go along.

AVault:

How easy was it to pick up the editing tools?

Philip Campbell:

The tools are geared to results, and I think part of the success of the original game is due to the quality of the level editor. It is very simple to build, test, and revise. The original did have some limitations, but these tended to focus the design rather than hinder it. Of course, my challenge was to build levels with the same high quality as the original, and I hope players find the maps challenging, compelling, and enjoyable.

AVault:

Do you think the editing tools could be mastered by the Internet community? What are the chances of them being freely released?

Philip Campbell:

Anyone with a creative eye could build playable levels, and I hope you will soon have a chance to do just that.

AVault:

You mentioned working with Rebecca Shearin on the Shadow of the Cat levels. Is there new art in Tomb Raider Gold?

Philip Campbell:

Rebecca and I came up with some concept designs the Shadow of the Cat levels, and she made some great new textures, many of which have a feline flavor. We had to stick very closely with the original textures for the Atlantean levels for continuity's sake, but I had a free hand as far as structures and constructs were concerned. For the Egyptian areas, I started out with pretty much the same texture set as the original, then gradually introduced new material as the mystery progressed. We were also aiming for more dramatic outside spaces than the original, so the levels ended up being pretty huge.

AVault:

What is your take on the Lara Croft phenomenon? Do you feel there have been any missteps along the way?

Philip Campbell:

Of course not! The whole Lara Croft and Tomb Raider franchise is the current preoccupation of many talented people at Eidos and Core. Everything is carefully geared to respond to our audience's wishes, and each step is meticulously planned. With a movie deal now in the works, it is critical for us to generate a quality script. Eidos makes sure experts are employed to deal with every conceivable expansion area for the franchise.

AVault:

Where do you see the franchise going?

Philip Campbell:

Tomb Raider is both a series and a franchise, and has potential to develop in many directions. The movie is an exciting opportunity, and as long as people want Lara Croft games, we will continue making them.

AVault:

Describe Vermin and Omikron, as you are able.

Philip Campbell:

Briefly, Vermin is an exciting 3D arcade action game, and Omikron is a real-time action and adventure title. Both look to be potentially great games, and we will be releasing more details as they develop. Certainly, they will both be featured at the Electronic Entertainment Expo this year, alongside our many other titles.

All rights belong to AVault and/or their affiliated companies. I only intend to introduce people to old articles and preserve them before they are lost.

[sarahdrewthat]

Sweet Vintage

Summary: Telenova is here hehe

Rating: T

Word Count: GOODBYE

A/N- @illneverrecover @omgawkward @windy-scribbles Dinner with Jumin Han, mmm

~~~~~~

Dinner soon passed and you were in awe at what kinds of steak this man ate and still seemed to fit perfectly into his dry-cleaned suit. The same waiter that attended you that night whisked away your plates, leaving you both with only glasses of champagne. Thank God the wine was quickly rid of during the course of the meal. A wine that strong needed to be swallowed down with some meat.

Lifting his cloth napkin to the corner of his lips, Jumin patted down any remaining stains from the meal before. You smiled as you raised your sparkling champagne to your lips, examining his actions. For some strange reason, you found his hands to be absolutely captivating.

HIs fingers were manly in a very slim form that created swift, almost flowing, motions when he used his hands to talk. The alcohol had done you some, you think to yourself. Why were you suddenly thinking about his fingers of all things? You usually concentrated on other parts of the body language if the person so happened to interest you.

Jumin set his napkin down neatly. “I thank you, MC, for agreeing to attend dinner with me before settling to business matters straightaway.”

Your eyes watched carefully as his fingers disappeared under the table to touch his belt. After a few swift motions and a click, Jumin carefully loosened his belt to allow his slightly bloated stomach to breathe. Your gaze grew soft as his abdomen leaned to the side, resting his elbow on the armrest and those lovely fingers of his held up his chin.

That chin...how solid.

“...it was nothing,” you hesitated before drawing the rim of the cordial glass back to your lips to hide your heavy breath. “Jumin.”

Jumin blinked a smile at the mention of his moniker being tried on your tongue. Through your eyes, he saw you were tired and possibly intoxicated, but they held an emotion he never thought he would see in a woman like you: absolute ardor.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. Jumin would have to pay his respects to the wine later on, should anything exciting enough happen. He was a virgin, no doubt, but losing it to you--

Oh, what was he thinking?

Fantasizing? When you were right here? Had he gone mad? Too much wine perhaps, but Jumin wasn’t complaining.

You held each other’s gaze for a moment before placing your glass down. “Right. As pleasant as this dinner was, I was not sent for fancy meat tasting.”

Jumin chuckled. No matter how polite you were, you somehow managed to sneak in a truthful fact that would have injured his ego had he been soft. Luckily, he was not. That was Yoosung’s job.

“Of course.”

With this small permission, you turned to your satchel you had abandoned to the side earlier. Pushing a few clicks on the belt of the flap, your delicate fingers raised the mouth of the bad open to reach in for an inky folder. Jumin’s charcoal eyes followed carefully as you gently slid aside the cordial glass along with its near-empty bottle to make space for your folder.

This folder, too, had a small belt and with a flip of a nail, the folder sprung open and allowed you to catch it before the files inside flew everywhere. After scrolling through seemingly endless papers, your face lit up at finding your prized file and pulled it out swiftly before closing the folder.

A deep breath as you examined the words. “I suppose you are familiar with the stock drop recently?”

“Yes.” Jumin’s baritone voice rang out suddenly. You had missed its warm comforting tone. “ Over a thousand businesses have lost their workers and revenue dropped at an alarming rate.”

You looked up. “You speak of small businesses. Rallies and protests have been sound over the past week. Streets were blocked, windows smashed,” you took another sigh as if reading off of your mind. “And many were arrested.”

“This is not my problem.”

You narrowed your eyes. The Jumin you met at the beginning of the dinner had evolved into another man. Perhaps the wine spoke for him.

“I am not stating that this is yours to control, Mr. Han. However, you do realize the huge corporations affect the market and whether you see it or not, your business will not escape the evident crash the economy will experience.”

Jumin smiled and leaned back into his plush leather seat. You were feisty, a trait he did not seem to see over food and wine. You were another person over monetary matters. Interesting…

“I help the economy with my businesses.” He stated, cockiness resonating with his words.

You raised an eyebrow. “By initiating cat businesses and propositions for feline comfort?”

Closing his eyes, Jumin’s smile disappeared slowly as he smoothed out his collar. “What I bring into my corporation is not based on whims. It’s discovering ways to give people new jobs and exciting experiences to a work environment.”

“I am not sure why my boss allowed himself to agree to collaborate with C&R in the first place.” You proceeded to shuffle through the pages to hand the businessman for himself to see. “Our compromise to work with your corporation will possibly lead us to an even greater downfall than before.”

You slipped a few pages of numbers and marks of your business corporation from the past four years across the table. Jumin brought the papers closer to him with two slim fingers, to which you allowed your gaze to lift for only this sight.

Jumin hummed when he saw the marks, flipping through the pages as his eyes scanned each one meticulously. “Do you think perhaps he sent you was because you knew how to get your way around people?”

You shot your head up to stare at him. He did not meet your gaze, but after a few moments of feeling a pair of eyes on him, Jumin glanced up with a small playing on his lips. Your heartbeat increased at the was his head was positioned to look at you; his eyes shadowed by ebony locks, eyebrows showing no emotion, his lips twitching playfully.

“What makes you assume that?” you cursed internally when you heard your voie cracked at the end of your question. Jumin lowered his eyes to the paper once more.

“I’m a people person.” He said softly. “I know how to read emotions, motives, and desires of every partner I meet. It’s simply the way I was raised to observe others.”

“Rumor has it you have a sole companion at home, this being a cat.”

He chuckled. “This is true. For courtesy's sake, I will not ask you where you received that information.”

You smiled a little, gently tugging at your bottom lip in thought, not caring if the lipstick stained your teeth. “I have associates here and there. Don’t you worry, Mr. Han, I have my secrets as well.”

His eyes met your own in a simultaneous stare. “I have no secrets to keep.”

You raised an eyebrow, putting on a saucy expression. With one hand leaving the clutch of papers in your left hand, you reached for the cordial glass filled with the expensive white wine you ordered at the brink of the flight. “Oho? An unusual answer for an enigmatic man such as yourself.”

A tug at the corner of his lips. “You think me enigmatic?”

“Who wouldn’t?” You raised the rim to your lips, ignoring the stinging that enveloped your taste buds. You probably shouldn’t drink more alcohol than necessary, but you needed an escape. This man was making you jittery than you normally were. No man has ever had this effect on you before.

A small laugh escaped his throat, startling your brain. His laugh was as rich, if not richer, than his monetary value itself. Deep, pausing, and genuine. He must have found you humourous.

Shaking his head as his laughter died down, Jumin sighed and turned back to the paper in his hand. “Well, I have a few friends--or maybe I should say a certain acquaintance of mine-- who may think otherwise.”

You placed your glass down. “Would this acquaintance happen to be the popular actor Hyun Ryu?”

He visibly froze. Here come the questions, you sighed internally. Jumin’s silver irises pierced into your own as he stared at you with a slightly shocked expression. You carefully set your papers down and rubbed your knuckles, preparing for the bombardment of questions.

“How did you know?”

You lowered your gaze to watch your own, uninteresting fingers rub your knuckles for comfort and warmth. “I think you mean to ask who told me rather than how I know.”

“Both will suffice.” His cold tone scared you, but you were glad your bangs hid your knitting brows.

You dimpled slightly. Such an ignorant man. “Had you simply read what lay before you, Mr. Han, you would have received the answer to your questions.”

Jumin glared at you slightly, or at least you thought his strong gaze was an angry one. Too much wine, you chanted. Too much wine. Cautiously, Jumin turned back to his papers, but not before giving you a suspicious look. You watched as his eyes scanned the page quickly as if looking for a remedy. Nearly two minutes later, his eyes widened and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

He found it.

Kyssena’s has been in collaboration with several companies and has even gone so far as to meeting with grass-root organizations and fundraisers, such as MADD, KID, APA, ASAP, FML, and….

RFA.

Rika’s

Fundraising

Association.