[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/EYPi4Me.png[/img][/center][indent][sub][COLOR=gray][b]𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚈[/b][/COLOR][/sub][/indent][indent][sup][right][COLOR=gray][b]𝙰 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙰𝙱 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚆𝙴𝙴𝙽 [@Mao Mao] 𝙰𝙽𝙳 [@beetlemoth][/b][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr]
[indent][indent]Hephaestus was dead... The news certainly caught his attention for sure. For the first time in recorded history, a deity was permanently dead. Did that mean that all deities aren't invincible? Unlike the others, Xōchipilli wasn't afraid that death was possible. Instead, he had embraced it years ago when one of his moral workers died in a terrible accident. And maybe it was the cost of gods acting like morals. He had wondered how his siblings were reacting to the news. However, his attention was on Hera's outburst. Admittedly, it was good to see the so-called 'Queen of the Gods' broken. But he didn't care nor dared to speak his thoughts loudly. 

And then, a gun was drawn and pointed at Shango. Xōchipilli was disgusted by Ares' action, but it was expected for the Greek God of War. Instead, he turned to his siblings and started talking in Nahuatl. "I'm going now before the Greek gets us in trouble. Come if you want to."

So, Xōchipilli stood up and started making his way to the door.

Xolotl processes the news of Hephaestus’ death in a distant, clinical way. It had caught him off-guard, sure, but he’d always known just how dangerous the Colossus could be; and it wasn’t just because of what it did to them, either. Instead, he believed the real danger to be an amalgamation of factors. The Colossus dampened their powers, kept them all running from one place to another like dogs on a lead, but none of that compared to the pressures of [i]time[/i]. Over the course of millennia, the gods and goddesses of old seemed to… [i]change[/i]. Walking the earth and living among mortals was so far removed from their previous, deified existence that many allowed themselves to be moulded by the world around them, to be [i]affected[/i] by the trivialities of the mortal realm.

To Xolotl, the ultimatum that had been set before them was obvious. If they didn’t come up with a way to destroy the Colossus once and for all, Hephaestus would be far from the last casualty.

He’s not at all surprised when the atmosphere in the room turned sour. All of the Greeks in one place? It was a recipe for disaster. But throw a Roman into the mix, and you may as well have set off a bomb. Feuds, both new and old, started clawing their way to the surface; and Xolotl is suddenly reminded of the dead in [i]Mitctlān[/i] —– writhing, crawling, desperate for another chance at life.

It’s [i]pathetic[/i].

He remains silent even as accusations begin to fly. No point in interjecting and making himself a target. For now, he would simply observe. The alleged [i]“Queen of the Gods”[/i] was the one who seemed most deeply affected by news of Hephaestus’ death, voice straining with rage and despair. It was almost enough to make Xolotl feel for her —– losing one’s children was undoubtedly one of the most painful things in the world, akin to a gouge in your heart that would never heal. He had not experienced such loss himself, but knew how his sister, Tlazōlteōtl had.

[i]Centeōtl, [abbr=nephew]machtli[/abbr]. Your name will not be forgotten.[/i]

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Xolotl catches a glimpse of [i]metal[/i], scents the smoky bite of gunpowder in the air.

[b][color=B2BEB5]“A gun? [i]Really[/i]?”[/color][/b] Incredulous, the question tumbles out of him before he has the chance to stop it. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that even in such a dire situation, the only feat the Greeks seemed capable of was making things worse. What did they think they were going to achieve by pointing fingers? Certainly not answers, although he doesn’t have much time to mull it over before he spies Xōchipilli making an exit.

He’s up on his feet and trailing closely behind him, reaching out to catch his brother’s arm, but decides against it at the last second. Xolotl didn’t think he would appreciate being grabbed right now. Somewhere along the line, he noticed that Tlazōlteōtl had wandered off as well, and frowns when he sees who she’s speaking to. He had a bad feeling about the Greek god of trade. Everything he knew about him pointed to a duplicitous, conniving character —– traits he himself possessed, but [i]loathed[/i] seeing in others, especially when said persons became associated with members of his family. Nevertheless, Xolotl knew that there was nothing he could do about it, at least for the time being; and so, elects to turn his attention back to the matter at hand.

[b][i][color=B2BEB5]“Wait.”[/color][/i][/b] Xolotl’s voice is low and even —– ever the picture of calm. He’s hoping to soothe Xōchipilli’s doubts, to make him see the wisdom in staying behind, if only just to [i]listen[/i]. He understood Xōchipilli’s wanting to leave, though. He himself dreaded the thought of getting caught up in this mess; but as much as he despised all the trouble the Greeks caused, he liked the thought of them running around behind his back even less.

[b][i][color=B2BEB5]“Don’t go yet. There’s more to this than we know. If we leave the Greeks alone to their devices, there’ll be more trouble yet. It’s smarter to stay, hear everyone out. After that, you can decide what you want to do.”[/color][/i][/b]

Xōchipilli knew that his brother was right even if he didn't want to admit, but it was still stupid. Even if more information was learned, it won't matter to them whatsoever. He didn't care about Hephaestus and barely knew the Greek besides the usual stories and rumors here and there. And he positivity didn't care about the fact that deities are able to die for some random reason, which might never be answered. Still, it would've been useful to learn how he died. So, he groaned and rubbed his forehead in annoyance. [color=pink]"Fine, I'll stay. But if someone gets shot and the police are involved, I'm blaming you."[/color]

[b][color=B2BEB5]“Fine by me.”[/color][/b]

On his back to the seat, Xōchipilli noticed that The Morrigan was in the midst of providing the answer. It turned out that poor old Hephaestus was murdered. That news... actually surprised the flower prince. After all, how often was an immoral God murdered out of the blue? That made him wonder who was the murderer, and who was their next target? He briefly looked at his sister and then brother causing him to feel protective of them, especially to Tlazolteotl. And the possibility of being in the Greeks' position was cause enough to worry. Then suddenly, a thought came into his head about the pantheon. Xōchipilli wondered if it was possible if one of them murdered their own since history often told of their sinister misdeeds. His primary suspects were, of course, the mother and father given their experiences in ruining their children's lives. 

Yet, Xōchipilli understood it was totally foolish to outright blame them, especially if their innocence was proven.

Xolotl doesn’t return to his seat after that, but hovers near the edge of the room, casting a scrutinizing gaze over everyone in it. The chaos that had threatened to boil over just a few minutes ago had mostly evaporated, and all that’s left behind is a vague shadow of uncertainty.

How could a god be killed? And of them all, why Hephaestus?

Truth be told, he couldn’t bring himself to really care about who did it so much as [i]how[/i] and [i]why[/i]. The death of a god was not something that happened regularly, mostly because of how difficult it was to kill an immortal, but also because of the promised retribution that would soon follow. Killing one god meant angering the rest of their pantheon, painting a target on your back in crimson red. It was an open invitation for them to do the same to you.

[i]An eye for an eye[/i].

But the Morrigan’s lack of answers was not doing much to convince Xolotl of the necessity of this meeting. He had expected at least [i]some[/i] information about the incident, scraps of evidence that would allow them to pinpoint their killer. So when Xolotl realized that none of it was forthcoming, he sucks in a fortifying breath through his nose, then [i]exhales[/i].

For one fleeting moment, Xolotl catches a whiff of marigold — Mictēcacihuātl’s flower — but pulls himself out of it with a tiny shake of the head, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. This is no time for memories.

The sight of Anubis is a familiar one, as is the unwavering steadiness of his voice. Both he and Xolotl, along with a few others in the room, were part of the Seattle legal scene. They’ve had their share of encounters in the past, although any meetings outside the courtroom were few and far between. From what he’s seen of him, though, Xolotl knows that he’s good at what he does, even if his goals might seem a little… [i]idealistic[/i].

Still, what did that say about his own plans of destroying the Colossus? Was it actually possible, or just a hopeless pipe dream? He doesn't like thinking about the latter.

When Xolotl speaks again, it’s to bring up a question. He pointedly ignores how three more of their number make to leave. [b][color=B2BEB5]“Does anyone have an idea of who might’ve held a grudge against him?”[/color][/b]

[right][sub][color=gray][b]mentions:[/b] [@Danvers][@smarty0114][@KZOMBI3][@fledermaus][@baraquiel][@Icy Hot][/color][/sub][/right][/indent][/indent]