your heart is a weapon the size of your fist

The dark figure intrigued him, he couldn’t really recognize if it was a man or a woman. But he was sure that it belonged to a human, another interesting story hidden behind the veil of the night.  Usually, there was no one here. That’s why he admired the place; it offered him a chance to think without interferences. However, he didn’t mind sharing it – there was enough place for two lonely souls. The voices of his parents echoed in his head, telling him that the stranger might bring danger. He should attack the figure before it had the chance to realize his intentions. Sadly, the fake morals with which his parents fed him weren’t strong enough to overcome his curiosity and his desire to befriend. He came closer to the figure , allowing it to see his face. “ Are you lost ?”  

“Not lost.” No, Nahuatl was made in shadows. Wars were born and died within the space between lines scrawled on parchment and she was there to make the HISTORY that was lost between them. The darkness was not safe for a woman of her status; it was not a place for the ROYAL ADVISORS of lesser kingdoms to play subterfuge in and yet--for a woman of pestis no place could be closer to perfection. “Are you offering to find the way or simply hoping aloud that I don’t know it?” Smug query from a gentle tongue; Nahuatl was practiced at the dry humor of court. “I am simply enjoying the comforting silence of night, which I presume is not such a far cry from what brings you out at such a devilish hour.”