(no subject)

[gospel-of-mary.insanejournal.com]

WHO: Mary & Huitzilopotchli
WHEN: Wednesday night
WHERE: An unnamed street outside an unnamed bar
WHAT: Ex-lovers having their first run in.
WARNINGS: tba

Mary wasn't sure of how the term 'cold as hell' had become a thing. Even to those not involved in the Christian way of things knew the basic that Hell was pretty damn hot and fiery. Nevertheless, as Mary stood outside the bar in her barely there dress, smoking a pilfered cigarette, all that she kept thinking was, it's as fucking cold as hell right now.

She'd left her coat inside but didn't feel like facing the bar again just yet. It was just a room full of men she didn't want to deal with. It was a room full of men she knew she'd eventually pick someone from to fuck and make rent.

Sometimes Mary missed her job at the police station, but she'd been no good at that. She was too flighty, too insubstantial as a person to hold down anything for very long. Even in Judea she'd been famous for walking around the country following some guy. No wonder it was all she was good at now.

She let a tendril of smoke escape over her lip, spiraling up into the night sky where she knew stars existed but could never see them. Cities were depressing like that. She didn't know how anyone could believe in God while living in a maze of cement boxes and neon lights.

Comments

[gospel-of-mary.insanejournal.com]

It hurt Mary so much to hear that and she forced a smile, telling herself that if she dared to start crying right now she'd find some way to punish herself for it. (A hollow threat - when was Mary not punishing herself for something?) So she just nodded a little as her response, because she was worried her voice would betray her.

Mary looked to the bar and frowned, looking back at Huitzilopotchli with uncertainty. "Raincheck?" she offered. "I can't-" she shook her head a little and looked down at the ground, brow furrowed and hair falling across her face. "I just can't yet."

Xochipili. The one he'd left her for. Mary wanted to ask how it had happened, if he was hurting, if it had been long ago. But instead she just said, "I'm sorry." She didn't really mean it, but it felt like the thing to say.

[bluehummingbird.insanejournal.com]

"So am I." He'd given it a try at any rate. He kept giving his heart to people just not right enough for him. Maybe he'd find the Serpent and ask Quetzalcoatl how all this was supposed to go.

He stepped back and let out a long sigh. This was painful and awkward and he'd rather be somewhere else. "It was good seeing you. If you desire," he paused then, "aid or your things just follow the hummingbirds. They will lead you to me." He meant the painted ones, but didn't think to point that out.

He went to walk past her, unsure of everything and feeling that jab of pain again. He didn't much enjoy it.

[gospel-of-mary.insanejournal.com]

"Thanks," she whispered with a small nod, wrapping her arms around herself. She wanted to stop him, but what was the use? He'd already said he wouldn't go back, wouldn't touch her again.

And so she let him go, hating this discovering that she was still in love with him.