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Sunlight streamed lazily through the curtains of her reclusive abode, warming the room as she sat on a couch that was typically used for late-night reading.
Instead of lazing about on its surface and eating snacks, though, she was up and ready with a small hand mirror propped up against her lap.
Today was not just another day for her—at least, she didn’t treat it with the indifference previously given to it.
It was her birthday today.
A day that was usually cause for celebration was treated with relative indifference in the past by the Shaman of the Nightwind. Even when she initially befriended Huitzilin, that was not enough motivation for her to even keep track of how many years she had lived. Perhaps it wasn’t a surprise that somebody whose lifespan was much greater compared to those around her would not pay much mind to such a trivial thing when she would be required to celebrate too many birthdays.
However, it was that recognition that she would outlive her entire generation—that she would outlive Huitzilin—which truly emphasized the importance of her birthday. It didn’t detach her from the concept, instead making her further cognizant of its presence—of her age and how much time the people around her had.
Though she would still not indulge in partying, much to her friend’s disappointment, it was about her fifties when she finally started keeping track of her birthday.
It was when Huitzilin turned sixty that Citlali finally accepted her requests, spending her the annual remembrance alongside her frail companion instead of solitude.
Since Huitzilin's passing it got harder to enjoy herself on those days…
Today had started rather innocently enough, though—the annual day when she indulged in self-pampering. A day that would be rudely interrupted by a familiar head of golden hair that seemed too pleased with his arrival, as Citlali stood dumbfounded at the door.
“…And just what do you think you’re doing here at my home?”
“Weren’t you the one who told me that I could come in whenever I pleased? Especially since it’s your birthday!”
“I—w-wait! How did you… Was it Ororon?…”
“So… could I come in?”
“Don’t ignore me!”
It was rather unexpected for Aether to crash what would typically be a day spent entirely indoors and alone, but it wasn’t an unwelcome distraction, as much as she would’ve loved to deny it.
But what had led to her current predicament was the thing settled neatly on her lap that she had found difficult to take her eyes off of.
A makeup kit… not just any regular one, but one that held all kinds of different cosmetics from other nations—right at her fingertips; courtesy of Aether’s kindness.
She eyed the makeup kit with a hint of trepidation. It was a practice she had only recently resumed when she began to become less reclusive, showing her face outside more often than not. Particularly after she started caring for Ororon, she decided that it would be time to dust off whatever rust she had built up for the nearly two hundred years so that she could at least be more presentable for him around the other tribesfolk.
After starting to adjust to the craft again—her skill returning to a point where any mistakes were minor and unnoticeable—it reminded her of how soothing and enjoyable she found the activity.
It almost made her question why she had abandoned the activity for so long—especially when she can recall how much fun she had applying makeup with Huitzilin—…
…
…
…
S-she still wasn’t especially good at it yet, mistakes still cropping out now and then, but she liked the way it helped her control how others saw her—even if only for a little while.
But before she could even lift the brush to her face, a familiar voice interrupted her.
“Need some help?”
She blinked once. Then again.
Aether leaned against the doorframe to her room, golden eyes glinting playfully. He was holding a tray with two cups of tea—the reason for his momentary tardiness—which he set down beside her before sitting.
“You?” she scoffed, brow raised. “You know how to do makeup?”
He gave her a confident little shrug. “I’ve picked up a few things here and there. I even occasionally wear some light makeup,” he remarked, pointing to his own face rather pompously.
Citlali narrowed her eyes at him, skeptical but… curious. “Fine. Impress me, Tumaini.”
Aether took the brush from her hand with a gentle grin, seemingly emboldened by her playful remark of his ancient name. “Challenge accepted.”
With his approach, Citlali settled herself comfortably as she tried to remain as still as possible. She sat with her arms crossed, brow furrowed as Aether carefully turned her chin toward the light.
“I still don’t understand why you know how to do this,” she muttered, suspiciously eyeing the brush in his hand and the skill he so confidently associated with the tool.
“I’m a wanderer of many talents, I’m sure this should be too hard to accept,” Aether said, dabbing the brush into the soft cream foundation. “Relax, you’re in good hands.”
“Hmph. I’ll be the one to decide that.”
He laughed under his breath and pressed the brush gently to her cheek. The bristles were cool, soft, and held a faint, soothing scent that seemed to calm her nerves. He swept it along her cheekbone in smooth, deliberate strokes, evening out the tone of her skin with practiced ease.
“You have really nice skin, you know,” he commented offhandedly, his eyes focused on her features as he moved closer to her jaw.”
“Flattery doesn’t make you more qualified,” she replied flatly, though the faintest hint of color was blooming at the tops of her ears—though perhaps he wouldn’t notice the red if he remained too focused on his job.
He moved to the other side of her face. “Is it flattery if it’s the truth, though? You don’t even need makeup, honestly.”
The way he teased her was enough to bait out a question, spurred by faux annoyance. "Then why even offer to do this for me?"
Without skipping a beat, he responded in kind. “Because I want to make you feel as pretty as I think you are.”
Citlali couldn’t stop the way her face flared up, the red impossible to hide unless she dared interrupt his work. She attempted to sputter out a reply as he smiled—not pausing his duties—before she finally settled on something, anything. “…You're terrible.”
“Shush,” he teasingly remarked, grinning as he reached for a smaller brush. “You’re gonna mess me up if you keep talking. Close your eyes for a moment.”
She did as asked, and he dabbed a touch of color to her cheeks. The bristles tickled slightly as he blended upward in featherlight motions. The blush gave her complexion a warmth that softened her usual sharp features—subtle, but lovely.
“Don’t scrunch your face,” he teased.
“I’m not scrunching,” she grumbled, eyes still closed. “…Sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he replied softly, now shifting his focus to the purple-pastel eyeshadow. “Tilt your head back just a bit.”
She obeyed, and he carefully brushed across her eyelids. It caught the light with each movement, highlighting the natural contours of her eyes in a way that made them look almost otherworldly—glacial pools flickering beneath starlight.
“This color suits you,” he said softly, almost more to himself.
“R-really?” She asked under her breath, almost as if embarrassed to speak.
He chuckled. “Of course! You picked them after all.”
Aether's hands slowed as he reached for the eyeliner—thin and precise. He was close now, one hand steadying her chin while the other drew the pen to draw lines across her upper lash. It was a delicate process, one that required absolute stillness, but Citlali found her heart pounding more from the proximity than from the threat of smudging.
“Hold still,” he murmured, his breath brushing her skin.
When he finally leaned back to assess his work, his expression softened into something fond.
“Alright,” he said, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Take a look.”
She turned toward the mirror and froze.
Her reflection wasn’t dramatic—it was subtle, soft. A faint flush on her cheeks, shimmer on her eyelids, a clean line framing her gaze, and just enough enhancement to elevate her features compared to her usual visage. Citlali still remained herself, but more confident—no, more radiant.
“Well?” he asked, hovering rather curiously—as though he were nervous that she might not have enjoyed the fruits of his labor.
Citlali cleared her throat, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I-I’ll admit, it’s good,” she finally said, watching the way his eyes lit up in a way that made her heart patter. Though as she watched the way his smile widened, she couldn’t help but turn back to the mirror—looking at her reflection with a sense of what she could only describe as inferiority as she looked at how skilled his work was.
It was an irrational sense of jealousy, aimed at someone who clearly meant no harm and merely wanted to make her happy, which only made it worse. Said jealousy was also met with equal parts of longing, the way Aether had done her makeup reminding her of how Huitzilin did it.
“I probably should’ve done it myself,” she whispered quietly to herself.
“So… not satisfied?” He asked rather curiously.
Citlali felt her heart sink to her stomach, not realizing that she said that aloud. She had gotten too wrapped up in her own ruminations, her self-destructive thoughts, that she forgot where she was.
Her eyes finally met Aether's concerned gaze. She quickly threw up her hands, as if to dispel any of Aether's doubts. "It looks amazing! It's just that I only recently picked up the hobby again, and I… I need the practice."
Aether tilted his head, golden locks falling over his shoulder as he regarded her with his usual kindness. Then—taking her by complete surprise—he hands her the makeup kit. “You can just practice on me.”
She stared. “What?”
He smirked. “You heard me, I don’t mind. You want practice, and I have a face bereft of makeup.”
"Are you sure?" Citlali asked apprehensively.
"I wouldn't be offering if I didn't want to! And besides, I have a very pretty face. All you would be doing is enhancing my natural beauty,” he added with a light smirk.
She gave him a deadpan look. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”
He looked at her with that same teasing grin. “Are you saying I’m not pretty?”
Against her better judgment—and her pounding heart—she ignored the way he was fishing for compliments, and accepted the makeup kit. “A-alright, hold still.”
It should've been easy.
But as she leaned in, Citlali came to realize that she had not done another person's makeup since Huitzilin. Her stomach began to twist, and the brush started to tremble a little in her grip. Aether's eyes were closed, and a smile gently graced his face. He was so eager to please her, not even considering how well she would be able to perform. It was just like when she was around…
Citlali gritted her teeth and shook her head. No… that was in the past… she… she should be over that now; she needs to be in the now. She took a deep breath to steady her hand and began applying the makeup.
Her hands couldn't stop shaking. Her thoughts were now polluted with Huitzilin and Aether. She missed her friend so much; she had been alone for so long, she had watched so many people wither away, and there was nothing she could do about it. But now she had Aether! Aether understood her, understood what it was like to be alone. But… what if he had to leave too? What if he left her after he found his sister again… what if he left her because she was messy or didn't know how to socialize or if she was bad at makeup… or… or…
As more negative thoughts polluted her mind, the more and more erratic her brush strokes had become. She was working off of some long-forgotten muscle memory, but her hand was far from steady, her mistakes were piling up, but Aether never flinched. His eyes were shut as though he were in the most tranquil of slumbers, an oblivious smile plastered onto his lips as he remained unaware of the tormented thoughts that raged inside her head.
Eventually, Citlali could not continue anymore, her eyes nervously taking in his whole visage. Once she got a good look at what she had done to him, though, her heart sank.
Hearing the brush be set down, Aether gently opened his eyes. "It sounds like you are done, I’m ready to—"
The tears that Citlali had been fighting to keep inside escaped when she saw Aether's soft golden eyes, which seemed to widen almost immediately as he met her gaze.
“I messed up everything,” she whispered, eyes wide. “I can’t believe I made you look like that. I—” Her voice cracked.
“Citlali—”
“I… I really am bad at this. And it’s stupid. But I thought maybe—” She bit her lip hard, fighting the sting behind her eyes. She hated this, hated the way her emotions slipped through when she tried to keep them in check—hated how embarrassed she felt. Her cheeks were burning, whether it was her face turning red from embarrassment or the streams that were threatening to come out. She swiped at her eyes, trying to stop the tears before they ruined the makeup that Aether so perfectly decorated and went through the effort of doing.
Aether moved closer in an instant, his hands immediately onto her shoulders. “Citlali… it’s okay. I don’t care about the makeup.”
“It isn’t about the makeup,” she muttered, blinking fast as tears slid down anyway. “B-but now I’m crying and ruining everything and—ugh, just don’t look at me like that,” she replied quickly, attempting to hide an ugly hiccup as she gasped for air—not bothering to keep her emotions in check much longer.
“I… just don’t want you to think I’m a screw up… I don’t want to be alone again.”
“…Oh, Citlali.”
As she kept her eyes shut—her face turned down in an attempt to hide away from the world—she felt two hands on her face; one gently lifting her chin up, the other gently caressing her cheek.
“What made you think I would do that?”
His voice was gentle, the kind she’d only ever heard from one other person when she was on the verge of breaking down. It was enough to make her truly consider, hold together her shaky mind as she searched through the labyrinth of her thoughts…
Why… did she think he would leave her?
Aether, who had been so kind to her—who had been so kind to her friends—who had been so kind to Natlan as a whole. Was he truly the type of person who would abandon her over something as trivial as this?
Citlali sniffled, attempting to regain her composure as she struggled to meet his sincere, nurturing gaze. “S-sorry, I just… can’t help but think of…”
As her mind raced, attempting to find the words that not even she could discern on the tip of her tongue, her eyes finally met his… no, hers.
…
Ah…
That was why she was feeling this way…
The inability to see him for who he was—his colors so warm and vibrant, just like hers. It seemed impossible for her not to associate the two individuals, held so dearly in her heart.
She had already lost one of the people who entertained such frivolous activities with her…
Before she could even finish, she felt the hand that was once supporting her chin shift toward her other cheek—Aether’s hands gently cupping her face.
“Citlali… I’m not going to make you talk, but you’re allowed to feel things. I know you always want to be strong, but that doesn’t make you weak. Those are parts of you that you shouldn’t feel ashamed to accept.”
“And…”
“I promise that you’ll never be alone again.”
She let out a shaky breath as he took her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles. At first, Citlali thought that he was going to try and say more—but instead, he softly pulled her into an embrace, lovingly rubbing her back. That only made it harder for her not to cry, as he proceeded to rock back and forth, not letting go as she returned the embrace.
She truly clung to him—not what he could represent as a replacement for something broken, nor as an idealized version of what she needed. Instead, Citlali held onto what she cherished and adored, something real and with her in this very moment. Not a ghost that haunted the edges of her mind and not a reminder of what she could never have again—but the person who made sure she was truly never alone again.
After what felt like an eternity—as well as not too many tears, compared to what she expected—Citlali finally took in a shaky breath, air able to comfortably settle in her lungs.
“You can laugh at how bad it was,” she said bitterly.
“Why would I laugh?” He gestured to his still-decorated face. “It isn’t as bad as you think it is.”
She snorted, unwilling but unable to stop herself. “You look ridiculous.”
“I look beautiful,” he corrected, earning a genuine chuckle from her.
Gently, he pulled away from her, standing up to leave the room, which caused her some distress. Eventually, though, he returned with a wet cloth as he kindly motioned for her face, helping to wash off the messy makeup that her tears had ruined. He was careful with every swipe, wiping away the streaked eyeliner and the shimmer smudged beneath her lashes.
When she was clean and a bit calmer, Aether offered the makeup brush back to her.
“This time,” he said softly, “I’ll help you. We’ll do it together.”
Her fingers hesitated before wrapping around the handle again.
“…Okay.”
They sat side by side, their knees touching, and Aether guided her hand as they worked. This time with shared laughter and gentle corrections. His face still bore the mess she had made earlier, but he refused to clean it off—saying that she could simply use it as a ‘reference of what not to do.’
By the end of it, her makeup was what she would deem as acceptable. Maybe not perfect—certainly room for improvement—but it was hers. And he never looked away from her once throughout it all.