For your consideration: Down to Dust after the events of Bedside Ghost.

pengychan:

I detailed how that would likely go here but now I also wrote a thing because I should be sleeping and, of course, I am not.

That was not the direction he’d expected the night to take. 

Estéban – he’s been Estéban García three decades longer than he’s ever been Ernesto de la Cruz, by now; the name has grown on him – was supposed to have a drink at the usual cantina, watch the firework display later on, greet a few acquaitances while he was at it and then head home, like he’d been doing pretty much every Día de los Muertos in the past few decades. 

He hadn’t counted on his alebrijes suddenly taking off, forcing him to follow. He hadn’t expected them to lead him to a mute, recently deceased child sitting alone in an alley.

And he hadn’t expected the boy – Cheque, he said his name was – to turn out to be connected with the Riveras.

I WAS SUPPOSED TO GIVE A BLESSING, BUT I CAN’T.

“You need to go back, muchacho. Just about now.” Before they find you and me by extension. “The blessing must be given before dawn.” No pressure or anything but please get lost. “I’m sure they’re not mad at you. You just need to try again. I can… show you the way to the Department of Family Reunions, sí? From afar.”

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