Xibalba and La Muerte Drabble.
"You cannot live with eachother, but you cannot live without eachother." That is how that cliche' saying always go when it comes to lovers, like Catrina and Xibalba. Xibalba sat at his throne room in boredom, thinking over that phrase in his mind until it was burned into him. He was writhing from the shouting match he had with his beloved Catrina. Even after stomping off from the kind words she gave to the humens, even someone as naive as her. He could still called her his 'Beloved'.
Again, the debate on humens was surfaced. It was his own fault voicing his complaints at them to Catrina, who continues with her naive notion that, "the heart of mankind is pure." It made him growl in irratence, making his candles go to a fearsome glow. He saw what mankind is, a bunch of selfish and evil creatures. Something he would gladly get rid of if he had the power. Yet, it is because of their viewpoints that they cannot stand in the same room together for an excess amount of time. At least, if one of them brings up the topic, which is every other day.
He slumped down, his arms hanging over his arm rest. The thoughts of Catrina turning red in anger at him made his teeth grind together.
'That women is insufferable!' he thought angerily. "you should give them a chance, Xibalba-" he mocked trying to get close to his lover's voice as possible. "pfft-your head must be also filled with tar!" he continued, before letting out a shout of frustration. He curled his spinly fingers into a fist, waving it dramaticly towards himself.
"Well, you give them too many chances!" he shouted towards the ceiling almost wanting to hear a reply, but to hear the echo repeat the phrase back at him.
He placed his palms underneath his chin. The thoughts of Catrina suddenly becoming angry at him was a common occurence, but this time, she was furious at him. He would not admit him, but it did made him fear her. For a small moment.
He tilted his head against his left hand, it was mostly his fault now that he thinks about it. He pushed her over the edge. He stood up from his throne, gliding through the empty room towards his bed chambers. He found himself sitting at his desk, a paper and quill waiting for him. He picked up the quill gingerly, dabbing the fine point in the black ink bottle. His angry thoughts dissapeared as he began to write to his Catrina.
—-
Even if anger and pride clouds my soul.
With you by my side, I am never cold.
Your radient warmth fills me, with your everlasting light.
Riches and power is nothing without your sight.
If I am to die, let it be in your arms. Let you be my La Muerte, to give me harm. Your gentle winds, your soft eyes. Gives me great happiness in my retched life.
For my dearest Catrina, with your touch.
Quenches my being with you being my crutch,
My void to become empty and hollow.
Without your love, let death follow.
He placed the quill down on its side, carefully folding the paper and slipping it into a white envelope. With his black wax holding it shut, he stamps it with an X and with a snap of his fingers, it dissapears into green flames and waited.
It seemed like hours before he got a reply. It came with a whirl wind of yellow petals before a white envelope dropped at his desk. A red wax stamped with a heart. He tore it open gently, and read the contents inside.
—-
You are a never ending fire to my soul
As dark and cold your being, you fill my fire with coal.
Your whispers of love in my ear.
With your arms wrapped around me, my dear.
Your status and portrayal.
It excites me to my very core.
My heart beats, whenever I hear your voice.
Your eyes like rose petals, I rejoice.
For my dearest Xibalba, with your smile
Lifts my spirits up high, like the river Nile.
My life would become dark and cold.
For without your candle-lit heat, no one will never hold.
He let out a sheepish smile and read over the poem once more before placing it back in the envelope. Sitting ontop of his desk, behind the ink bottle was a small chest. He opens the top to see the other poems sent by Catrina and added another.
I used Catrina because I thought that might be another name they would have called La Muerte.