Xolotl

Unlike his twin brother, Quetzalcoatl, Xolotl has no interest in the daylit world and little interest in humans who thrive there. He made his peace long ago with being the messenger to Mictlan, the common sacrifice, and the patron of things the Teōtl cast aside. Do they remember it was him, not his brother, who retrieved the bones of humanity from Mictlan to populate The World? Do they remember his sacrifice at the birth of the Fifth Sun? No. Of course not. He’s just a dog.

It’s as a dog that he usually manifests: an old hound with muddied fur, untrimmed and dirt-encrusted claws, and cataracted eyes that constantly weep tears. The collar around his neck is the only thing that’s clean. It shimmers with the colors of his brother’s serpent plumage as a reminder of their kinship. When he takes human form, it’s as a frail, painfully thin man who shuffles slowly with the help of a pair of canes and hides his sightless eyes behind dark glasses. The stray dogs of the neighborhood are never far away.

Xolotl’s Scions have borne more than their fair share of misfortunes in their lives. Whether they’re bitter and resentful or determined to rise above their situation matters little to him. What does matter is that, when the time comes, they make the sacrifices The World demands. Xolotl hesitated once when he was called upon to sacrifice himself for the sake of others and refuses to let his children make the same mistake. His Scions work (if they are lucky enough to work) in careers that keep them isolated. They’re morticians and reclusive scholars, but also the people who spend their nights on telephone hotlines for those in need or work as guards in the most dangerous prisons. Many work in shelters and rescues with dogs and other animals, especially ones abandoned as too old or bad-tempered to keep.