Little Boy Belmont (Richter x Olrox)

Chapter Twenty-Four: God Of Darkness

Another odd dream. He's sitting on a throne carved from black rock and draped with jaguar furs. He looks down to see his right foot is missing.
Yep, definitely another vision of the past.

The air in the temple smells stale, musky. He looks up when the double doors swing open with a collective bang, wood scraping on stone.
Olrox/Quetzalcoatl storms in, looking agitated, the small red and purple feathers on his skin puffed up.

Richter/Tēzcatlipōca narrows his eyes, jaw clenched.
"We can't keep doing this, you know," his younger brother snaps, serpent fangs bared in anger.
The elder brother growls low in his throat.
"Can't keep doing what?" he demands.
Olrox/Quetzalcoatl throws his hands up in the air, the scales on his hands shining like emeralds in the sunlight coming in from the door.

"This! Constantly starting the sun cycles over and over. I can't keep watching the humans dying," he says, sadness laced in his tone.
"They wouldn't have kept dying if you hadn't knocked me out of the sky with that stone club," the elder brother bristles, claws scraping along the obsidian arm rests of his throne.

"I did so because you had grown too hungry for constant sacrifices in your name only. This is not what Ometeotl would want from us!" He hisses a little.
The Jaguar God huffs out smoke from his nose, leaning forward on the throne, gripping the arm rests so hard he almost cracks the obsidian with his bare hands.

Olrox/Quetzalcoatl definitely struck a nerve with that comment.
"Leave our Mother out of this," he warns, pale eyes glaring at his brother. "I did what they instructed me to do, what I was born to do! You had no say in what Ometeotl wants from me."
"Mother wants us to work together, all of us. If we hadn't worked together, neither of us alone could have defeated Cipactli," the Serpent God reminds him.

Richter/Tēzcatlipōca sighs, glancing down at his missing foot and leans back on his throne.
"I know," he rasps.
Worried, the younger brother walks the steps up the throne and gently touches his brother's shoulder.
"We created the first sun cycle together," Olrox/Quetzalcoatl reminds him gently, looking close to tears.
"I don't want us growing apart anymore. The humans we made are like our children, our babies. I can't keep watching them dying or turning into different animals. This is the last time, brother. I can't keep watching humanity suffer because of us."

"Fine," the elder brother agrees, grabbing his brother's scaled hand with his own. "This is the last cycle. Huitzilopochtli has already stepped up as the current sun. Our little brother has always been stronger than he looks."
Olrox/Quetzalcoatl nods and smiles a little.
"Come here," Richter/Tēzcatlipōca murmurs, showing his less seen softer side. He gently pulls his younger brother down to his level and hugs him.
The Serpent God hugs him back, sighing a little.

"I love you."
The Jaguar God blinks in surprise. The four brothers love one another despite the arguments, of course. Even now, Richter/Tēzcatlipōca isn't used to saying it out loud.
He feels a lump in his throat, like he's about to cry. His hand goes through his brother's long black hair, claws trying not to get tangled in the feathers and braids.
"I love you too," he admits in a choked voice.
****
Richter wakes up in his room, not remembering being carried here by Olrox. The Aztec must have found him on the grass if Belmont passed out from overexerting himself again. If he keeps getting tired like this, how is he going to stop Bàthory and Drolta?

He sighs softly, remembering the vision from the past. Even with Olrox looking like a feathered snake hybrid, he still looked beautiful. He sits up, hearing muffled voices of his family and friends talking, too faint for them to be in the main room. They must be outside, then.
He gets up from bed, seeing his familiar blue hunter clothing neatly folded on his bedside table.

He's surprised to see the other one he had bought in Romania, the long overcoat with the white shirt and boots, cleaned of blood and the rips sewn up. Richter didn't think Tera or Maria would have fixed it. He puts on his original outfit, but finds he can't wear the boots anymore.
The claws on his feet make that impossible now. Since his fingernails and toenails practically fell off when he transformed, the bones on his fingertips and toes had sharpened to a point. Permanent claws he can't file down. At least he can still put his fingerless gloves on.

Richter rubs his eyes, feeling more isolated than ever.
"Am I able to talk to you?" he whispers to the empty air of his room. He feels the air shift, seeing Tēzcatlipōca melting out of the darkest corner of the room like a ghost through the fog.
He's a little surprised he can see the God clearly now, without the aid of the mirror.

"Of course you can," he assures him in that same ancient, eerie voice.
The God must be more powerful now that he has a vessel, able to interact with the mortal world.
"Am I able to touch you?" Richter asks.
The eldest son of Ometeotl smiles a little, holding his hand out. Richter reaches over and grazes his claws against the God's own. Tēzcatlipōca's skin is warm. Without really thinking, he hugs the God.

His head only reaches to the God's chest, but the Aztec God of Darkness hugs him back all the same, purring softly. Tēzcatlipōca's heartbeat sounds strong, almost like a drum.
"We'll get through this," he assures Richter, kissing the top of his head.
"For now, go to your family."
"They're frightened of me," Richter sounds like a frightened child.
"They need you. They're scared due to things they don't understand. Olrox explained as much as he could while you were asleep," he explains, claws gently going through Richter's smokey hair.

He lets go of Richter and looks down at him.
"What if you come with me? Show them you're not a threat?" Belmont asks.
Tēzcatlipōca looks a little troubled, he isn't used to people seeing him, hasn't been for years now.
Before the God can answer, they hear more night creatures outside.
"Come on," Richter says, rushing out of his room.

The Aztec God follows. It's worse than Richter had imagined. There are ten night creatures, a few harpies, some beetle looking ones, twisted humanoid ones. His family and friends are all fighting back. Olrox is in his Quetzalcoatl form, fighting with the harpies in the air.
Richter forms his obsidian swords in hand, heart racing.

Before Richter can join the fight, Tēzcatlipōca holds him back by the shoulders.
"Stay low," he says with a grin.
"Wait, what, what are you—" Belmont stammers.
The God of Darkness smiles back at him.
"Let me show you how it's done," he says, cracking his neck.
He mutters something in Nahuatl, causing large obsidian spikes to stab out of the ground, impaling four of the night creatures.

The others look back, alarmed, thinking Richter did that.
Richter looks back at them and shrugs, flicking his eyes to the Aztec God of Darkness.
"You guys might want to step back a bit."
They rush over to him, except for Olrox, who is too distracted fighting in the air.

Tēzcatlipōca forms a large sword in his hand, making Richter's swords look like sticks in comparison. He slices through the night creatures like they're made of butter, leaving their blood and gore staining the grass.
"I'm guessing that's the Aztec God of Darkness?" Edouard asks.
"Yeah," Richter says simply, not knowing what else to say. "He's only able to do this because he has me as a vessel."

"And I thought the Vampire Messiah was terrifying," Mizrak murmurs, looking like he's seen death in the face. Once the night creatures in the ground have been killed, Tēzcatlipōca nonchalantly uproots a tree and throws it at the harpies. The harpies screech as they're slammed and fall out of the sky in crumpled heaps.
Quetzalcoatl looks down in surprise, green eyes wide.

Tēzcatlipōca grins up at him, arms crossed over his chest after stabbing his sword into the ground. He leans against the sword, venting out smoke.
"Miss me, little brother?"