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Description
It's too late guys. Warlord-of-Noodles No Evil has sucked me in for good. You should check it out, it's absolutely beautiful.

Awake

“Icky?”
The voice was tiny, almost nonexistant, barely shaking Ichabod from his heavy slumber. He looked up groggily, barely opening an eye to see the dark room around him. Mama’s webs hung loosely from the ceiling, obscuring the spirit’s vision even more than the dark, massive piles of Nagual beings scattered about the room did. Ichabod didn’t quite know what time it was, but he knew it had to be late if almost everyone was sleeping, and he wondered for a moment if the Black Tezcatlipoca had taken everyone.

No, He thought, you’re just being stupid. Everyone is fine.

He thought, deep within him, that, one day, his words would prove to have no more meaning, and everyone would be gone…

“I-Icky,”

Ichabod heard it again, and jerked his head up from where he had nearly dozed again. He looked around, but the only figure near him to use that name was Chalchiutlicue, and there was no way that she could be awake…

Murder was between them anyways. With her massive wings blocking his view and obscuring his hearing, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear his sister anyways.

But still, if there was a chance she could be awake…

Ichabod carefully stood and tiptoed around Murder. Really, she was a very calm and nice spirit, but she still spooked him -- even if he knew that it was irrational. He made it around her without trouble, and peered around her large mass of hair. There was Chalchiutlicue, exactly how Ichabod had left her. She was covered in his shirt, wrapped tightly and swaddled such as Quetzalcoatl might be, he long tail and webbed feet carefully left untouched. Ichabod laughed; if she had been awake, she would complain at being treated like a baby, though she was barely older than one herself. She looked almost peaceful now, however, with the blackness creeping its way slowly up her legs. If Ichabod hadn’t known better, he would have said that the girl had simply grown tired and fallen dead away to sleep after a long day of play.

But he did know better. And he knew that there would be no more play for Chalchiutlicue, not if the Black Tezcatlipoca had its way. Slowly, Ichabod resigned and turned away, about to go back to sleep and count this as a trick of the tired mind.

And then she stirred. Chalchiutlicue’s shaking body flipped itself clumsily, to where her tiny face was now facing her brother.

Murder had told him, rather forcefully, actually, that staying near his sister would only cause him pain; The older spirits would take care of her, and he did not have to worry. But he did worry, and had made a promise to himself that he would never leave Chalchiutlicue more than ten feet away from him until she awoke. Now, he was barely more than ten feet away; probably closer to twelve. And he felt terrible. He had missed the moment her eyes opened again -- possibly had missed an entire long moment before she went back to sleep. Had she been mewling for him for long? Was she hungry again, or thirsty, or was she in pain? Had the black ick possibly made her feel so ill that she couldn’t hold down the tiny bit of soup she had eaten earlier? Was she cold? Was she --

“Iccckkyyyy,” She whined, reaching a tiny hand towards her brother and grasping. He quickly quieted his mind and rushed towards her, taking to his knees and letting her webbed fingers close around a few of his feathers.

“I’m here, I’m here Chalchiutlicue, don’t worry,” He said softly, tears nearly coming to his eyes again as he saw her look around aimlessly with clouded eyes.

“You smell.”

Ichabod was taken aback, and a confused look came onto his worried face. He pulled back a little.

“Wh-what?”

“Take a shower, old man,” Chalchiutlicue coughed, sticking her tongue out slightly. She smiled a wavery smile, he lips and face alike quivering with effort, and Ichabod returned the smile, laughing slightly.

The small girl slowly let her face relax, then it screwed up in pain.

“Icky, I don’t feel good,”

“I know, I know,” The older spirit crooned, the tears coming just to his eyes this time but not overflowing. He reached out with a foot and pulled the jacket up closer around his sister’s face before brushing a talon lightly across it. “I know, sister.”

She closed her eyes tightly leaning into Ichabod’s warm touch. If she had been a mammal, she would be terribly feverish at this point, but without any sun around, her skin was frigid to the touch. Internally, Ichabod panicked briefly, not knowing if she would open her eyes again if she closed them. But she did, this time her pupils dilated with pain.

“Will I get better?” She mumbled, her eyes beginning to drift shut. Ichabod put a foot to her face, careful not to scratch it as he cuffed her cheek.

“I… I don’t know, dearest.” His voice was soft, and labored breath followed. He had to stay strong, however; He couldn’t let Chalchiutlicue know he was scared. Not when she was so sick.

“Icky, I…” Chalchiutlicue let a heavy labor out as her head drooped with exhaustion. “I love you,”

And that was it. Her eyes shut and her breathing became quiet and even. Ichabod could feel her muscles relax, and knew for a fact that she was gone again. This time, he allowed himself to cry, the night shielding him from the prying eyes of older spirits and dangers. And he cried; cried for the pain his sister was in, for their parents, for the ones lost to this plague -- he cried for himself, in pity for the possible loss of his family.

Slowly the sobs began to slow and it was just silent tears working their way through his feathers. He lay himself down carefully, his wings careful to avoid the Blackness on Chalchiutlicue’s lower half but not to avoid her completely. He enveloped her in the closest thing to a hug he could manage; partially for her, to keep her warm, and partially for him, to keep his mind calm in knowing that she was right there. Before he, too, drifted to sleep, he mumbled a few tiny words he knew his sister couldn’t hear, but he said them anyways.

“I love you, too.”

----

Now, I know -- this is probably TERRIBLY inaccurate, but hey. It was my first attempt at writing these guys. Enjoy!

Description
It's too late guys. Warlord-of-Noodles No Evil has sucked me in for good. You should check it out, it's absolutely beautiful.

Awake

“Icky?”
The voice was tiny, almost nonexistant, barely shaking Ichabod from his heavy slumber. He looked up groggily, barely opening an eye to see the dark room around him. Mama’s webs hung loosely from the ceiling, obscuring the spirit’s vision even more than the dark, massive piles of Nagual beings scattered about the room did. Ichabod didn’t quite know what time it was, but he knew it had to be late if almost everyone was sleeping, and he wondered for a moment if the Black Tezcatlipoca had taken everyone.

No, He thought, you’re just being stupid. Everyone is fine.

He thought, deep within him, that, one day, his words would prove to have no more meaning, and everyone would be gone…

“I-Icky,”

Ichabod heard it again, and jerked his head up from where he had nearly dozed again. He looked around, but the only figure near him to use that name was Chalchiutlicue, and there was no way that she could be awake…

Murder was between them anyways. With her massive wings blocking his view and obscuring his hearing, he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear his sister anyways.

But still, if there was a chance she could be awake…

Ichabod carefully stood and tiptoed around Murder. Really, she was a very calm and nice spirit, but she still spooked him -- even if he knew that it was irrational. He made it around her without trouble, and peered around her large mass of hair. There was Chalchiutlicue, exactly how Ichabod had left her. She was covered in his shirt, wrapped tightly and swaddled such as Quetzalcoatl might be, he long tail and webbed feet carefully left untouched. Ichabod laughed; if she had been awake, she would complain at being treated like a baby, though she was barely older than one herself. She looked almost peaceful now, however, with the blackness creeping its way slowly up her legs. If Ichabod hadn’t known better, he would have said that the girl had simply grown tired and fallen dead away to sleep after a long day of play.

But he did know better. And he knew that there would be no more play for Chalchiutlicue, not if the Black Tezcatlipoca had its way. Slowly, Ichabod resigned and turned away, about to go back to sleep and count this as a trick of the tired mind.

And then she stirred. Chalchiutlicue’s shaking body flipped itself clumsily, to where her tiny face was now facing her brother.

Murder had told him, rather forcefully, actually, that staying near his sister would only cause him pain; The older spirits would take care of her, and he did not have to worry. But he did worry, and had made a promise to himself that he would never leave Chalchiutlicue more than ten feet away from him until she awoke. Now, he was barely more than ten feet away; probably closer to twelve. And he felt terrible. He had missed the moment her eyes opened again -- possibly had missed an entire long moment before she went back to sleep. Had she been mewling for him for long? Was she hungry again, or thirsty, or was she in pain? Had the black ick possibly made her feel so ill that she couldn’t hold down the tiny bit of soup she had eaten earlier? Was she cold? Was she --

“Iccckkyyyy,” She whined, reaching a tiny hand towards her brother and grasping. He quickly quieted his mind and rushed towards her, taking to his knees and letting her webbed fingers close around a few of his feathers.

“I’m here, I’m here Chalchiutlicue, don’t worry,” He said softly, tears nearly coming to his eyes again as he saw her look around aimlessly with clouded eyes.

“You smell.”

Ichabod was taken aback, and a confused look came onto his worried face. He pulled back a little.

“Wh-what?”

“Take a shower, old man,” Chalchiutlicue coughed, sticking her tongue out slightly. She smiled a wavery smile, he lips and face alike quivering with effort, and Ichabod returned the smile, laughing slightly.

The small girl slowly let her face relax, then it screwed up in pain.

“Icky, I don’t feel good,”

“I know, I know,” The older spirit crooned, the tears coming just to his eyes this time but not overflowing. He reached out with a foot and pulled the jacket up closer around his sister’s face before brushing a talon lightly across it. “I know, sister.”

She closed her eyes tightly leaning into Ichabod’s warm touch. If she had been a mammal, she would be terribly feverish at this point, but without any sun around, her skin was frigid to the touch. Internally, Ichabod panicked briefly, not knowing if she would open her eyes again if she closed them. But she did, this time her pupils dilated with pain.

“Will I get better?” She mumbled, her eyes beginning to drift shut. Ichabod put a foot to her face, careful not to scratch it as he cuffed her cheek.

“I… I don’t know, dearest.” His voice was soft, and labored breath followed. He had to stay strong, however; He couldn’t let Chalchiutlicue know he was scared. Not when she was so sick.

“Icky, I…” Chalchiutlicue let a heavy labor out as her head drooped with exhaustion. “I love you,”

And that was it. Her eyes shut and her breathing became quiet and even. Ichabod could feel her muscles relax, and knew for a fact that she was gone again. This time, he allowed himself to cry, the night shielding him from the prying eyes of older spirits and dangers. And he cried; cried for the pain his sister was in, for their parents, for the ones lost to this plague -- he cried for himself, in pity for the possible loss of his family.

Slowly the sobs began to slow and it was just silent tears working their way through his feathers. He lay himself down carefully, his wings careful to avoid the Blackness on Chalchiutlicue’s lower half but not to avoid her completely. He enveloped her in the closest thing to a hug he could manage; partially for her, to keep her warm, and partially for him, to keep his mind calm in knowing that she was right there. Before he, too, drifted to sleep, he mumbled a few tiny words he knew his sister couldn’t hear, but he said them anyways.

“I love you, too.”

----

Now, I know -- this is probably TERRIBLY inaccurate, but hey. It was my first attempt at writing these guys. Enjoy!