oceanhunters:

T E E N A G E  G I R L S  +  M Y T H O L O G Y: Tezcatlipoca 

The night enshrouds the sky, dark clouds rumbling overhead bringing winds that smell of damp tarmac and cigarette smoke with them. She briefly glances in a car mirror, checks the perfect line of her lipstick and brushes away a stray curl of hair. Someone mentions that a storm is coming and she nods knowingly, uttering a few quiet words under her breath. If they asked, she would be able to predict the exact time the first rain drop will fall and how the howling winds will swiftly become a hurricane (and she, she is the eye).