THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION

[beleos]

BETWEEN UNCONTROLLED ESCALATION & UNENDING PASSIVITY

The moonlit city of Highstorm has always been a tranquil location.

Its people, passionate about the steady leadership of Zenith's leader — Lady Yima — begin their movements slowly and deliberately. Following the lead of their most trusted Shard-Bearers and the word of their Lady, activity in Highstorm begins to increase in the vicinity of Yima's Manor. The Court, the town square outside of it, becomes a hotbed of bustle and voices. Personnel and attendants rush around with documentation, stirring others to action. A select few figures gather the full force of their long-standing houses, calling on family bonds and their own castellans to assist the efforts that build over the course of a few days.

For the tranquility of Highstorm is only ever punctuated by its decisiveness, its faith that their path is the correct one — and now, they will prove it.

In a trickle-down effort, from the most loyal Zenites to the newest, the news unfolds for them: Amos Burton has been tasked by Lady Yima herself to turn the tides back in Zenith's favor. He is to end the life of the 34th Tribune, Cyrus Marcius Germanus Kokkinos, alongside the fortune who have found their way into Zenith's graces. In the earliest hours of the invasion, the figure of Yima herself steps out onto the balcony of her quarters — the highest point of the Manor — with her robes soft around her body and hands extended to her people. Her silence is punctuated by glowing feelings of pride that flow through the hearts and minds of every last sworn Zenite, bolstering their resolve and encouraging them with the cool, ever-flowing might of the people who look to Zenith's Shard-Bearers for their victory.

She sees them off with unspoken sentiments of love, confidence in them — the whispered promises that she knows they are ready to see the war through. And perhaps none of them will know that it is the last time they see her.

For in the sun-dappled sprawl of Springstar, their target awaits them.

The bustle of the city has always been without reservation; the bright and airy attitudes of militant citizenry look on with confidence and celebratory warmth as their Shard-Bearers have brought them to a marginal advancement over their enemies. While Tribune Cyrus's popularity has waned, there are alternative avenues they have begun to explore — the figure of Agapitos Voreen has become deeply popular, with savvy statements, an easy confidence and a willingness to deny Zenith any room to breathe, he is a shoe-in for future Tribune, whenever the next elections are held.

Which is why, in between one moment and the next, the city is rocked by the efforts of their opposition. Zenite-aligned Shard-Bearers and the small house armies of Yima's most loyal core families fill the streets with chaotic distractions, ranging from duels with the Helios Legionnaire to direct attacks on civilians. ( Where does your character draw the line, if they care to? Will it matter in the long run, do they believe? ) Appearing from several Cornerstones hidden within the city's confines from missions long past, tracking the movements of Legionnaires and Shard-Bearers alike from the placement of listening gems and tracking spells, even rising from the bowels of Kowloon to trap the city in a pincer movement — Highstorm goes on the offensive.

Springstar puts up a valiant resistance in return; however, within twenty-four hours, Zenite Shard-Bearers will have hunted down, cornered and slain the Tribune. In that moment, Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers will feel a splitting pain: the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Zenith's swell. The last trickle of emotion from Cyrus for them is a gentle warmth, fondness and forgiveness and the purity of his confidence in them. He believes in them, he always has, and he prays and hopes for their victory even though he will not be around to see it become reality, now.

His death is announced the following day by his assistant Cetina, the deer-morph girl choking back angry tears as she — with a furious and tearful General Ayo Zaman and the somber, mournful figure of Hieropoios Natalia at her side — lambasts Highstorm for the act of aggression, attempts to rouse the city and Meridian's hope, and pledges that she will not let her best friend's murderers escape her vengeance.

Hours after Cetina's message, in the far corner of Highstorm — following the people's celebrations and rejoicing in their strike, the delight in the might of their Shard-Bearers and the renewed passions of their people in pursuit of their victory — a brilliant, golden beam of sunlight pierces the eternal night of the city.

In an instant, the balcony upon which Yima had stood and the rooms beyond it — in fact, the entirety of the Manor, is engulfed in fire and light. The Manor falls, crumbling in upon itself as debris cascades into the living quarters of Shard-bearers and partially topples into the Court beyond. While the Tree of Life, the Reflecting Pools and many businesses around the Court escape extensive damage, the Manor itself is in shambles. And in the wake, many Zenite Shard-Bearers will feel the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Meridian's swell. In the wake of the strike, there is a deep silence within them.

Any attempts to contact Yima are met with the same silence a Shard-Bearer feels when reaching out to another who has left the world entirely. And with that, both sides are left to pick up the pieces and weigh the consequences of their actions.

ADDITIONAL MATTERS

During ( and in the wake of both assaults ), there is plenty for any Unharmonized Shard-Bearers and more moderate Meris/Zenites to partake in. Damage has been wrought to both cities at differing times, and there is a degree of life lost no matter the best efforts of those who value innocents over the price enacted by acts of war.

In Springstar, the citizenry has been ravaged by attacks stemming from the depths of Kowloon: as monsters in the form of both individuals with unusual appetites (cannibals and vampires, for example) and heavily-drugged, superpowered addicts have been finding their way into the city, slaughtering civilians indiscreetly, picking fights with the Legionary, and engaging in general criminal mischief and violence. Following Zenith's assault and subsequent assassination, the city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Zenith-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Zenith! ). After the day of the attack, the attacks drop off significantly, but do not vanish entirely, for now that some have gotten a taste, it will take time for Yura to reign them in once more.

The people of the city turn to their Shard-Bearers in the wake of their Tribune's murder; even though his popularity had waned, it isn't as though his death doesn't affect them! Deeply concerned and frightened for their future, they demand information about what will be done to protect the city from another assault like this? Some civilians will turn to the church, or perhaps community leaders, but it seems very few turn to the legionary, after they were so focused on the attacks that they missed the forest for the trees. Their trust in their military leaders is waning, and they’re looking for answer. Some community leaders have tried to soften the hurt and anger of Springstar’s people, but they look toward those whom were not a part of the current establishment to answers.

In Highstorm, Yima's Manor lays in shambles, but the rest of the city is unharmed. Shard-Bearers who were living in the Manor will find that their living quarters suffered from the collapse and subsequent fires, but any precious items/belongings they had in their rooms can be recovered after sifting through the rubble. One of Yima’s most trusted, Florence, seems to be taking the reigns of control, and while there are still pockets of the manor that remain on the outskirts of the building itself, she encourages any Zenites who had not moved out to move on quickly, since what is left should be used by any newcomers who need shelter, and not those whom have had the opportunity to make bonds, and have allies that they can rely on.

The main issue now plaguing Zenites is the sudden, overwhelming crowd that begins to gather in the Court, demanding information from them about Yima's safety — they are frantic, and rightfully concerned about further assaults of that incendiary degree from Meridian. The city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Meridian! ). The Manor itself is almost entirely destroyed, with only a shell of the outskirts left, and though those who are left are already trying to sift through the rubble, they are often overcome by their sorrow, and it is not uncommon in the wake of Meridian’s destruction to find some of Yima’s most loyal in distress, for the loss of their leader.

A LIGHTHOUSE AGAINST THE ENCROACHING STORM

A few months ago, all current Shard-Bearers experienced a mass dreaming event, full of teeming darkness and a pervasive sense of terror. Following the death of Cyrus and the "presumed loss" of Yima, all Shard-Bearers will receive yet another dream.

This one is a simple, direct thing: rife with a haunting sense of being watched, observed as if from the reeds and brush by a hunter. Whatever your power level, however skilled you are and confident you are in your place, your decisions, your heart will quake before the severe impression of something prowling at your heels. Just out of sight, but never out of mind. Every Shard-Bearer's shard will wrench free of their body upon waking, falling from their physical form as if to flee this sensation of something waiting, patient, for the right moment to pounce.

Echoing in the back of their mind, a wordless, shapeless promise lingers: Forward, or back. Back, or forward. Dart and weave, flit and flutter, scamper and scurry. We are here, now. In the back of every mind, what was in the process of coming before is — it is here, now. Looming right above, waiting for the outcome, watching for which way the last lives at the end of existence will flee.

Upon awakening from the mass dream-become-nightmare, Shard-bearers will slowly become aware of the exacerbation of previous events that have been persisting since October. These events are no longer subtle, and will impact everyone regardless of faction allegiance, with purposefully targeted strikes:

— Darkness has spread within Springstar. Wherever there is shadow cast by person, object or building, it has deepened, darkened, and grown in size. Walking through any shadowed area or touching a darkened shadow will fill a Shard-bearer who enters that area with feelings of dread, of something lingering just out of sight, of danger prickling along their spine, and entice them to run and flee. If they are not quick enough, an unseen entity savages them — aiming directly for wherever their Shard is hidden and held. They are being hunted.

— Light has spread within Highstorm. Starlight and moonlight seem to sear what they touch, leaving patches of bleached-white scars upon person, object or building. Being touched by the light or coming into contact with a white-scarred entity will fill a Shard-bearer with feelings of malaise, like they should simply lay down and accept what comes next. Suffocating hands waiting to pin them down. Even in the safety of the shadows, the scourging glow of any light reaches for them and rakes across their bodies, seeking the place where their Shard is hidden or held. Ravaging them with hot-and-cold burns. They are being sacrificed.

— Shard-bearers readily become lost in familiar places, as if their homes and bastions of safety and security have become strange ( estranged? ) from their minds. The route to that favorite haunt ( perhaps even their own place of business ) eludes them, and searching for it alone becomes an impossibility. It takes another Shard-bearer, at times, to aid them in breaking free of the mild befuddlement. You're just tired. It's just the strain getting to you.

— Citizens of both Springstar and Highstorm continue to speak about neighbors who have 'suddenly moved away', or the disappearance of a favored shop or cafe. Some mention favorite, useful landmarks vanishing, causing them to forget where they are coming from, or where they are going. When directly asked about this circumstance, they shrug and declare that it happens all the time these days. In fact, there's nothing to really be done about it. And if pressed, the citizenry's eyes go glassy and expressions become confused as they ask who, what, where, and why their Shard-Bearer has begun asking them such strange questions. None seem bothered by this strange occurrence, as if all is well and normal.

— Shard-bearers will begin to see familiar faces in crowds, standing on street corners, peering through their private windows, waving them down at their familiar haunts. People from their own worlds, loved and hated alike rush for them — adoring and hostile alike. Family members and friends who seem to attempt to meet their eyes before the crowd swallows them up; loved ones who should be captured in Shards try to flag them down, calling their names and asking them where have you been? what's going on?; enemies and abusers seem to advance upon them, pushing their way forth hungrily. And then they are gone, but not before leaving behind the impression, the strange sensation that, they are real. Really there. If only for a moment.

OOC & (IMMEDIATE) WORLD CHANGES

The full document for this event can be found here!

So, what does the world look like now that this has all gone down?

The world of Kenos ripples from the effects of our players!

Springstar is (mostly) physically unharmed, though the population has been reduced thanks to the number of murders and criminal mischief that has taken place during the attack. Damage seems constrained to things like broken doors and windows, looted property, and murdered civilians, though the severity is up to how many defend Springstar from the concentrated might of Ryad’s regulars, and a practical army of addicts rising from the depths below the city.

The leadership of Springstar is also shaken, though there are procedures in place for this – if one is particularly studious, they will recall that this is not the first Tribune that has been assassinated, though it is the first in a long while – and the Church and the Legionary have stepped in to maintain the peace while elections begin to be arranged.

Cyrus’s body is interred publically at the Church in Heliopolis for a week after his passing, before his body is immolated during a service, his soul returned to the Tree of Life. Those who attend will feel the light of Meridian fill them, and their Discord may be reduced by one level thanks to the warm hope that fills them, even as they despair at the loss of their leadership. Meridian calls to its most loyal, and asks them to do what they do best, show hope and unending resolve, when things look to be their most hopeless.

Highstorm is another story. The destruction wrought is more property, but the number of people who were within the manor is difficult to count until a week or two after the destruction has been evaluated, and cleanup has begun. The loss of life is not devastating compared to what was leveled upon Springstar, but perhaps the most distressing is that Yima is not present. Florence reassures those in Highstorm with her calming, but firm presence.

With few of Yima’s softer adorations to be found, Florence instead pushes the faithful to muster their will and begin the recovery efforts. After all, they have long proven to have faith in Yima’s guidance, and they should believe in it now when it is difficult. It is not the first time their fortitude has been tested, after all.

Her words fill those in Zenith with a sense of calm resolve, and they may feel their distress and discord from this destruction alleviating slightly. Highstorm’s government works smoothly without Yima, and those who are interested in history will be able to see Florence’s name throughout the annals, as one that would guide Yima’s faithful when the matron was in convalescence, or respite. What Zenith does best, after all, is build something new when faced with destruction. Consider this a primer for your new world, to help bring the faithful back from the brink of their despair.

The unharmonized have a choice, as they so often do. This time, however, the stakes appear even higher than before. The cities are not as welcoming as they once were, and those that have not chosen are beseeched by the civilians of both Highstorm and Springstar. ‘Do you not understand what they’ve taken from us, and what they will in days to come? You cannot let this continue, standing on the sidelines. Imagine the ways in which you could help us,’ they beg, and it feels as though your neutrality will become increasingly inconvenient, as time goes on.

What can we expect next?

As the month of Pelu ( aka March ) dawns, you will begin to feel it. Something tugs at you.

Those who have lived through more than one will feel that anticipatory anxiety rise, as the next oracle is coming. Are you ready to fight to claim it, even when it feels so dark, and even when everything feels different, and harder? Do you look to the stars, and dream of your home? Or do you gaze outward, into nothing, and dream of what you will make from the ashes?

Anticipate the oracle in the coming month of Pelu, and to learn more about those that will step into the voids left by Cyrus and Yima.

And as always!

Questions can be directed here!

Individuals less-inclined to busy themselves with either effort, or looking for a way to gain a foothold/explore the world can report here for exploration attempts. We recommend examining the Kenos Wiki's Locations for ideas, if you don't know where to start. Or! Ask someone in the Discord Server for a recommendation, we have long-time players eager to help.

Lastly, remember that Cyrus and Yima will be a little occupied this time around, but anyone who might ICly have reason to contact them regarding the brewing troubles can do so here!

CODING

Comments

[cutlery]

[ Sebastian listens with interest that verges on fascination. It’s unlike the systems of magic he’s read about here, but as Matt explains it, this one makes a bit more sense to him. This is what he can imagine the magic of the Earth he visited being based around, since it seems… simpler, in a way. That and, considering how his experience with magic more personally was based all in ritual, he’s more inclined to find it familiar.

The tale of an old book and forbidden knowledge is a familiar one that Sebastian nods along to, but the actual title of it. ]

Ah.

[ Just “ah” with the lightest of surprise, yes.

…In a way, that would make sense too. He’d thought about the debauchery that tended to surround his summonings as just humans indulging in their darker proclivities with a demon as an excuse, but. Maybe there was more to it after all. How odd of a thought. ]

How interesting. Forgive me for my ignorance, but… How does that work, precisely?

[semicharmed]

Oh, no, don't worry about it, [ says Matt, so swiftly it gives the impression that he was waiting for a chance to cut in and apologize for being so goddamn weird. ] I've never come across another practitioner who works in this tradition--I mean, technically I sort of syncretized two traditions, but that's the story of western esotericism. [ He rolls his eyes a little: what can you do. ] Uh, so if that groundwork definition makes sense to you, human sentience channeling an intent through ritual, into an outcome ... a better term than sentience might be human energy. The spark that gives the thing its lift, you know.

You can channel energy a lot of different ways. Some people exclusively work through spirits, asking them to lend them their power. Some focus their emotions, and other people are working on sheer willpower. The way this book put it, sex is a generally accessible, direct, pretty powerful way to create energy that you can then channel into magic. And, you know ...

[ Throughout this whole explanation, perhaps strangely, Matt hasn't been giving off a sense of prurience. It's more of a fine-grained enthusiasm, like you'd find from a person who's trapped you in a corner at a party. However, as he looks back to Sebastian now, a pink flush starts to sweep across his mind. ]

I was a teenage boy. So I had a lot of free time, and a lot of sexual energy.

[cutlery]

Well, it more or less makes sense, yes. It is at least somewhat more grounded than others here.

[ After all, the magic “system” in Kenos amounts to “it just works”, so he’d quickly stopped trying to make sense of it… But he listens with continued academic interest, and it’s clear that he’s fascinated by what Matt explains, but that bloom that comes, ah— He breathes out a gentle note of a laugh. ]

Pardon me. It is not at your expense, merely… [ There’s another laugh, and he shrugs slightly. ] Apparently the novelty of sharing an Aspect has not worn off. It is novel.

[ Because compared to everything else, that flush is something Sebastian can’t experience. He can only fake it as an excellent actor, so it’s the experience of something unknown. He cants his head lightly as he looks at Matt, but his attention is still a cool interest. He’s not at all put off by what Matt shares, clearly. ]

And? What did you use that energy for? What sort of spell, I mean.

[semicharmed]

[ It's a nice sound, that laugh. Matt wouldn't mind if it was at his expense, but what Sebastian shares is significantly more interesting. He regards him searchingly for a moment, wondering, Do I ask ...?

But he won't derail the entire conversation just yet. ]

Light, first, [ he answers. ] That's what the book wanted you to envision, a ring of protective light around you. I based my shield spell on it eventually, but in the beginning ... [ Matt flips his hand over, considering his cupped palm. With a soft breath out, hah a tiny bauble of golden light appears. It looks very like the light that was floating above Matt when he knocked on Sebastian's door. ] Fire was pretty quick after that. It's a very intuitive element for me. [ His lips twitch. ] Maybe a little too intuitive. Basically what happened is ... so not every spell requires the same amount of energy, in general and in sex magic too. Some things you can do with a kiss, or a small amount of arousal--something like, I don't know, butterflies in your stomach, or remembering when someone touched you in a really good way. But others require at least one orgasm-- [ There it goes again: that flushing feeling, sweet as syrup. ] --and back when I was just starting out and had like no fine control, instead of doing what I wanted the spell to do, getting off could result in just ...

[ He grins crookedly. ]

Flames.

[cutlery]

[ He would have asked about the little bauble of light eventually (whether tonight or weeks from now), but he’s pleased to get a bit of an answer for it now. Curiously, he reaches out towards it to thread his fingers through that light just to see if it comes with any sensation. Magic that’s so much more tangible than what he would have encountered in his world will always be of interest to him. ]

An apt result.

[ He comments with a coy smirk, since he does like a metaphor made reality. Most demons (or devils, if he were to include Raphael here) just had that sort of humor. Of course that feels perfectly fitting. How many works of art were there where passion was personified as fire?

There’s a little note in Communion that’s a clear moment of consideration, and it’s tinged by a playful edge. It’s the off phenomenon of Matt’s “return” where he should be starting over, yet he feels that there’s already progress made. Towards what? Well…

His fingers draw down with his gaze, whether through the light or not, and he traces a light path along Matt’s palm up to his fingertips. His touch is so gentle that it’s almost ticklish, and he’s amused to think that the contact isn’t something that Matt even fully appreciates. He’s been so diligent about keeping his hands always covered that his bare touch is actually quite rare, but there’s hardly a need for that anymore. ]

And now?

[ He looks back up to Matt from underneath his long lashes. There was some amount of plausible deniability before, but not so much now. This is definitely flirting, but it’s still just as well-mannered as the impression of Sebastian at least seems to be. ]

I hope you have mastered enough control to not be casually setting things aflame.

[semicharmed]

[ The floating light puts up no resistance to being inspected, nor to Sebastian's fingers as they pass through. Though it's not entirely intangible. There's a sense of warmth that emanates from it, less like a physical temperature and more like a song just past the edge of hearing.

As for Sebastian's touch.

That sends a tingle over Matt's skin, down his spine and up the back of his neck. One might think he'd be more blase about such barely-there contact, given what he's just told Sebastian. And yet. The light flickers brighter for a moment, a tremble from buttery yellow to almost white.

Matt's lips quirk: pleased, amused. Undeniably flirting back. ]

I like to think I've gotten better at a lot of things since then, [ he notes. Still smiling, he watches Sebastian's face: line of his mouth, fine brushstrokes of his eyelashes. Matt's palm and fingers feel exquisitely sensitive, keenly aware of Sebastian's fingertips. He can't not ask. ] Would you ... have any interest in doing the exchange thing?

[ God, that sounds like a non-sequitur. Matt laughs softly at himself. ]

I've just been so curious since you told me. And I could try showing you something good. You know--"novel."

[cutlery]

[ He does look at the little mote of light, and as it flickers in response to his ministrations, Sebastian smiles just a little bit more. How fun.

But he’s pleased when the flirtation is returned and even more so at what Matt asks. He laughs again with a little nod as his fingertips curl lightly around Matt’s. ]

I was hoping you would ask.

[ He was, and it’s selfish. The first time had made an impression on him, to put it lightly. Communion was interesting, of course, but what Matt offered was a more complete experience of it. It wasn’t just the sharing of memories or experiences that Sebastian had enjoyed or found intriguing. It was the experience of being human. He would never want it, of course, but things like feeling blood and breath as they truly were… It was ephemeral in a way that he had only ever understood through this.

But rather than express that, he jokes first. He doesn’t want to seem overly interested, lest his attention seem too intense. ]

It is a bit unfair, after all. Another you knowing, while you do not? [ He tuts playfully ] Truly, it would be cruel of me to deny such a request.

is this nsfw? im just gonna ... put a warning ...

[semicharmed]

[ Sebastian's fingers wrap around Matt's, instantly unraveling the nerves and self-deprecation that had been gathering. I was hoping gets rid of the rest. In its wake, Matt feels lightheaded fascination. An anticipating thrill. ]

I wasn't going to call you cruel, [ he murmurs. A joke, maybe. Acknowledgement that he's talking to a demon, even if zero percent of his decisions will change. At least part of it is simply to roll the word cruel in his mouth. Taste it like a crimson marble. Matt lets the light fade. He's still for a moment, schooling his breathing into measured patterns. His lashes dip.

And he lets himself open--

Into the strange channel between bodies, that place of effortless flow. Of feeling oneself fully embodied, but at the same time, fully embodied as someone else. It isn't an overwhelming feeling, or a confusing one--no sense of too many limbs, too much heartbeat and blood. There's only everything in its place, repeating like a hall of mirrors.

From Matt, there are mouths crushing together, messy, electric tangle of tongues and scrape of teeth. Aching urge between his legs, everything alight and throbbing, lifted on a current of something airy, boundless, a helpless adoration for this thing being built between bodies, spit and friction and--

the deep ocean, bursting with stars. Everything is singing its song, the way it always does. Only now he can hear it. Now he can feel himself thrum in the heat and the heart of it. He is in exactly the right place at exactly the right time, the universe unfolding its infinite petals of yes, yes yes. ]

nsfw enough that I didn't tag it at work at least LMAO 👍

[cutlery]

[ This time, Sebastian knows better what to expect, so he leans into it further. As Matt’s breathing calms, Sebastian closes his eyes like that might help him sink into what Matt shares. And right away, he again sinks into the warmth of it. As with the first time, that’s what he immediately finds so curious and nearly exotic. The feeling of life, of blood, it’s so much warmer than what he ever truly feels.

And that’s what he gives back to Matt in turn. Being this sort of demon is cold by comparison, but not for any innate chill—it’s more that it’s an absence. The body sitting next to Matt is clearly not what the demon is in truth. It’s a void, an abyss, and it’s power. There’s potential in that darkness, because it feels as reflexive as breathing is for Matt that the demon could create… Or destroy.

But the feeling can’t be chased as Matt’s experience continues. Matt delivers indeed on his promise of something novel, since the first time around hadn’t been so charged as this. Sharp teeth into his thigh was different than the true throes of passion. This too is unfamiliar. Sex was little more than a tool to be deftly used as any other, but it wasn’t to say he couldn’t enjoy the hedonistic aspect of it. It was more the intensity of desire contrasted against his general indifference for it.

So, Sebastian grips Matt’s hand a little more firmly at the feeling. Leans in. And what comes most immediately to his mind is more a matter of recency (…and frequency). There’s a devil that’s very needy, after all.

It’s the slide of hands against hot skin—literally hot, because hellfire runs through their veins. It’s slower than they want, which is why they squirm underneath the touch. A pull of a leash as he presses in, and holding down horns as he bites at their… wing, apparently. Blood seeps into his mouth, but it’s a delicious sensation because of how it gives just a hint of the meal they could be. Even though this one isn’t to his taste, it’s still a treat nonetheless. They choke from the pressure, but it’s exactly what they want. They’re the one saying yes and more, and he—you—are all too happy to indulge someone so greedy.

And in reality, away from the shared connection, Sebastian laughs as that thought drifts past his consciousness and to Matt. It’s perfectly rational that it would be what comes to mind, but still… It’s funny that it would be Raphael of anyone. At least that’s definitely unique. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Truly, Matt finds every person and every body novel. Even those he's been with more than once. How could it be otherwise? In even the gasps between kisses, you change, and can't be what you were before. But what Sebastian has to show him is a hell of a ways outside the standard deviation of Matt's experience.

His palms slide over molten skin. He tastes blood and likes it--craves something far more vital and rare. And he feels himself to be a waiting dark. An absence so strong it could create an equal and opposite something with a thought, and devour it just as easily. It's that piece Matt clings to with the greatest fascination, the piece so foreign to his own experience of being embodied, mortal, human. Matt could hold somebody down and slip a collar around their neck (though he doesn't, all that often); he could never be what Sebastian is.

Sebastian laughs, the reverberation thrumming in Matt's throat and chest. And because Matt thinks he could stay like this for another hour, or a week, or until the hungry shadows come to swallow them both--

He lets the channel close.

Matt's back in his own body, alone, looking into Sebastian's face with an expression stunned and rapt. Their hands are still joined. Matt's grip tightens, and he uses the leverage to press forward, aiming a kiss at Sebastian's mouth. A firm kiss, a desperate one: because Matt's lonely and scared and everything here is so hard to get a grip on; because he wants to kiss Sebastian hard enough to reach the abyss behind the mask.

Maybe Sebastian might like him after all. God knows he's greedy enough. ]

[cutlery]

[ It’s much more enjoyable the second time around, he finds. Even if this Matt wouldn’t know it, Sebastian holds far less trepidation that makes his mind more calculating. There’s less of a need to worry about how to posture himself, about what to do if what Matt finds in Sebastian isn’t to his liking. He’s able to relax more and indulge in the way that had surely given him the Stargazer Aspect over any other.

So, when there’s that pause as the connection drops, he can also more easily predict what’s coming. He wants it, even, and it’s a mix of his own desires (that this was something he had been anticipating and encouraging from their first conversation) and the phantom sensation of what Matt’s past desires had let him feel. His grip stays softer, but he leans in just a bit so they meet in that kiss.

He feels the desperation of it acutely. He can only guess at whether it’s an emotional need or simply lust (or as is truth, both), but in the moment, it doesn’t matter. It’s a desire he can fulfill. His other hand reaches up to settle on the back of Matt’s neck, and just that tiny bit of extra pressure pulls him in further. He gives the lead to Matt and doesn’t push further into responding to the kiss than he gives, but at the very least, it’s not a problem. He’s not just a good kisser, he’s an excellent one. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Something in Matt eases up as he feels Sebastian return the kiss, feels his hand on the back of his neck. He tried to tell him just now, though his channel is so all-encompassing it's hard to be precise--touch has always made sense to him. Sometimes, it's the only thing that does. So Matt unspools by degrees: First his hand loosens its grip on Sebastian's, starting to slide up his arm. Then his head tilts against Sebastian's mouth. And he makes a small sound, pleased and warm.

(He'd kissed Tezcatlipoca like this, with the sense of a celestial puzzle piece slotting into place. He'd been drunker then, and less freaked out, but joy and relief appear to be a constant. Like he's received a blessing, or enlightenment.)

Sebastian is a terrific kisser. The part of Matt's brain still interested in thought wonders if their shared Aspect has anything to do with it. If Matt's sending him some empathic whisper about how hard to kiss him, where on his neck he likes to be touched (everywhere). For his part, he can feel at least some sense of desire, though not what lies behind it. If he's learned anything about Sebastian just now, it's that his emotions run on different rails than a human's do.

Matt has to break off to breathe. His heart has picked up speed, heat rising in his cheeks. He looks at Sebastian with a questioning gaze, though even he's not sure what he means to ask. Are you sure you want to, maybe, or Will we wake up Gavial? ]

[cutlery]

[ It is his first time getting more “acquainted”, as he would put it, with someone of his own Aspect. It does indeed allow him a bit more acuity in how to proceed, but it’s largely an intuition formed from experience. There’s a conversation in small gestures, in the push and pull, and he’s fluent in the language. But for its novelty, Sebastian does focus more on that Communion. Matt’s feelings are so much bigger and more vibrant than Sebastian’s, and they’re met with curiosity for once rather than his usual distaste at being overwhelmed.

Matt pulls back to take his breath, and the partial grip of Sebastian’s hand on his neck relaxes in turn. Yet, there’s an insistence that encourages him to not totally pull back so that they stay close. He can see the question as much as he can feel the emotional tenor of it, and he breathes out a small, pleased little laugh for Matt’s consideration. The hand that Matt had released settles at his waist instead. Matt enjoyed touch, clearly, so he’ll make as many points of contact as he can as almost answer enough. But— ]

Well, we cannot be too loud…

[ He laughs again, sweet and warm. He’s having fun already, since its satisfying to know that he’d been correct so long ago that there was an immediate attraction. But it’s not like Matt is a poor partner. He has skill of his own that makes this a little more indulgent. ]

But I am never opposed to some fun.

[ —But it’s not exactly benign either. It never is with Sebastian, because favor is the more valuable to him than any currency. So, it’s more manipulative as he does pull back slightly, but he’s pulling Matt with him with the gentlest touches. He reclines towards the armrest to give them more room rather than simply sitting next to each other. ]

Forget your troubles for the evening. [ He pauses with purpose, since he wants Matt to come along without that pull too. ] If you would like, at least.

[semicharmed]

[ Forget your troubles. It's exactly what Matt wants. Even without an empathic link, the shuddery little breath that escapes at the words would make his feelings crystal clear. Matt is old enough now to know he should be wary of anyone offering him precisely what his heart desires. But right now ...

He chooses to forget.

He follows Sebastian back, shifting against him to fill the space he's relinquishing as he moves. Complementary, like mercury moving under heat. Even the differing shades and intensities of their emotions feel like that--Sebastian's cool to Matt's light and hot, anchoring void to his flush and flutter. A push and pull that makes stability out of opposites. His hand slides up Sebastian's arm to curl around his shoulder. ]

Quiet, [ he agrees, soft. And he quirks a smile. ] I can be quiet.

[ Technically, he could put up a soundproofing ward on the room that would at least dampen any noise for an hour or so. But that would mean breaking away, turning his focus from Sebastian's mouth and his hands, and Matt can't bring himself to do that. Sometimes, it's just more fun not to give yourself any magical advantage.

So Matt kisses Sebastian again: a sinking kiss, a melting kiss. Going slow and thorough and searching for the places where their bodies fit best. His opinion about whether this is the "real" Sebastian is evolving. Now Matt thinks maybe the body, the sweet laugh and clever hands and gorgeous eyelashes, is Sebastian in the way a stylish person's clothes might be. Not literally them, but a reflection of them. Tells you something about their point of view and their priorities. ]

[cutlery]

[ The stammer of a breath is answer enough that his words found their mark. The question ebbs from his expression, and instead it warms to one that’s relaxed and pleased. He guides Matt along as he continues to shift so that he’s comfortably leaned back and Matt can easily claim the space he leaves. It’s comfortable and easy, and Sebastian cants his head to perfectly meet that kiss again.

For all the cold dark he truly seemed to be, he’s certainly taken every effort to make this human form perfectly convincing. He’s warm, with soft skin and firm, strong muscle underneath that implies a graceful strength. The only thing that stands out as just a tiny bit off is something only really found through a kiss—his canines are just a little too long to be truly human, but he’s never thought it too bad. If someone makes it this far to notice, those little fangs are likely to be appealing.

But he’s perfectly happy with the easy, languid pace of the kiss. Sebastian is rarely hurried in his intimacy, since he’s more naturally inclined to be deeply indulgent if he’s partaking. He’s searching just as much for what Matt responds to. Whether it’s the little pressure he applies with his hands or the soft way they share breath between their lips, he’s at least deeply responsive as a partner. It’s also fairly clear through the connection of Communion that he’s the sort to take pleasure where Matt does.

(Or—at least one of the local demons is a service top.)

When Matt needs to take a breath again, Sebastian’s hand on his neck shifts to trace a delicate line along the collar of his shirt with one finger remaining outside its bounds to brush against skin. ]

Shall we take this off?

[semicharmed]

[ Sure enough, when Matt's tongue encounters those canines, he makes a pleased sound into Sebastian's mouth. Shivers a little for the small sharpness. Responsive is a good word for it, one his partners often use. The way the smallest touch can set him alight, no matter how many like it he's received.

As Sebastian's finger traces his skin over the collar of his shirt, Matt's head tilts gently in counterpoint. Slight stretch of his neck, the ticklish energy needing to go somewhere. ]

Yeah, [ he breathes. Another quick kiss. ] Please.

[ It's a little hint, perhaps. When Matt's in charge, his brain is always going, thinking about his partner's comfort and their circulation in the complicated knots he finds so pretty. (Although, let's be real, Sebastian in scarlet ropes? Maybe a pentagram shape across the chest harness? Gorgeous. He'll file that away for later.) In these first few moments, the balance of energy between them feels right. It's more than absorbing enough to quiet him. But for true forgetting, the deepest, blankest places he knows how to go--someone else usually holds the reins.

Or, to intellectualize it all slightly less: That leash moment was super hot.

Anyway. Matt shifts back slightly, just enough to grant Sebastian easy access to the buttons of his shirt. ]

I still wear the clothes you made, [ he says with a tiny smile, as he reaches for Sebastian's shirt in turn. ] It's nice to show a little skin now and then.

[cutlery]

[ It’s a hint that’s taken with a pleased hum into that quick kiss. It’s never anything that Sebastian has a strong enough preference to insist upon, but when he’s given the choice… He prefers being in charge. As chaotic a reputation as demons had (and it was quite deserved), Sebastian himself was orderly to the extreme. If he can be in control, he’s more at ease, but it’s not as if he hates the opposite. ]

Oh?

[ His smile reaches to his eyes in a way that would make it clear even without Communion that he’s pleased to hear that. It’s the same thing as when he’s found Matt wearing it, really. It’s praise that he enjoys on a very simple level, but it’s all the better to hear it now. ]

Then you will forgive me this, knowing I can fix it come tomorrow?

[ He cants his head as he finishes his question, and it reveals more of his neck and chest for Matt to match the undressing… More or less. It’s convenient to feel the sorts of nuances that Sebastian is more careful with trying to pick out until he’s certain. But in this case, he has no worries. He pulls his hand from Matt’s waist so that both of his hands can slip under the top of the placket of Matt’s shirt and simply pull them apart. He’s far stronger than the delicate strings that hold the buttons in place, so they rip and pop off so that he can greedily expose more of the skin (and Shard) underneath.

(Also, for what it’s worth, he’s perfectly serious. By the time Matt drifts off to sleep tonight, he’ll find an expertly repaired shirt waiting for him in the morning.)

Not every button is popped, so one hand gets to more deftly and delicately undoing the rest while the other starts to trace a slower line down his collarbone to his sternum. He doesn’t want to break the line of contact that Matt has to work with on his own shirt, but just from how his fingers dance more insistently over his skin, it’s no mystery that he’d meet it with his lips instead if he could. ]

I am glad it is to your taste as well… I thought it would be always flattering, but it looked fetching on you.

[ And immediately, Matt will find a surprise as he unbuttons Sebastian’s shirt. At first glance, it seems like a choker of dark ribbon sits low on Sebastian’s neck, but as he shifts, it’s also clear it’s not that. It’s seemingly half tattoo, half physical, because this was another “gift” from the circumstances of his most recent death. Its purpose may not be clear, but it is highly magical. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Matt's shirt goes rrrip, and he gasps as the buttons scatter. Nearly bursts into a laugh, but claps a hand to his mouth just in time. This doesn't seem to impede his own efforts to undo Sebastian's shirt; he's every bit as adept at flicking buttons open one-handed as he is with two. No, what actually stops him is Sebastian's fingers moving over his skin. Matt lets his hand drop from his mouth, taking a breath that feels like it's trying to chase after his touch.

He used to have a tattoo over his heart, an emerald lotus called Anahata. Now it's crystallized to form his Shard, but Matt's still got a couple tattoos to spare. One, his ward against demonic possession, is on his back. The other is visible as his shirt comes open: a half-monkey, half-man that peeks out from beneath his waistband as it curls over his right hip. ]

I do forgive you, [ he decides, grinning. ] Because I know you can fix it ... and because you called me fetching.

[ Well, he called the outfit fetching, but count it. Matt returns to undressing Sebastian, one hand lingering curiously by his collar while his other hand flick, flick, flicks at buttons. His thumb brushes the black ring of the mark. ]

[cutlery]

[ He grins softly in return to that stifled laugh. The humor of it is just as fun to him as something more flushed, since the reactions tend to skew about evenly. Sebastian does laugh, though, all velvet once again as his gaze drifts down to look at Matt’s torso as he reveals it. The Shard draws his attention first (and with a pang of hungry longing he can’t help), but his hand doesn’t go towards it..

He drifts along the curve of muscle, swirling with exploratory gentility along the lower part of his chest and drifting closer to the nipple almost like a swirl, but.

That mark is new. It’s as fresh as a bruise, though not against his skin, but his pride. He’s not completely used to even having it yet, so once he realizes what Matt’s hand curiously brushes against, there’s a recoil that isn’t in his body at all. It’s totally in his mind, but it’s intense. It’s more intense than he intends.

It’s only a momentary burst of impression. It’s that feeling of power again, that idea that Sebastian is far from a minor demon, but this mark is not one he’d taken on willingly. It’s pretty on him, but it’s a collar, a muzzle, and he’s trapped by it. But that’s all there is. When he wants to put words to it, it tightens to stop him, but here in Communion, it’s like that connection suddenly, sharply stops. The flow of emotional current dries up, leaving Matt alone.

But even so, Sebastian seems surprised by this too. He closes his eyes tightly and steadies his hand against Matt’s chest, and just from how he grits his teeth, it seems like whatever it is, it’s painful.

…Secretly, though. He’s a bit glad that this curse was so thorough, in a way. This was a falter, but he imagines that the full expression of his fury that even his thoughts could not be his own would ruin the mood without recovery. ]

…Excuse me.

[ Communion starts to ebb back into place, and there’s frustration there, but he at least knows the “rules” in pieces enough that he can vaguely control it. ]

That is… [ He doesn’t know, actually. Not completely. But left Matt think too much of it, he removes one hand to place it over Matt’s. He keeps his touch there to show that isn’t the problem. ]

…A curiosity of how I recently passed.

[ It’s what he settles on, and since the mark doesn’t exert its control, he assumes that’s acceptable. Somehow. He doesn’t let that annoyance peek through too much, and instead sighs like that might relieve some of the pressure of the frustration. ]

I do not yet know its rules.

[semicharmed]

[ Sebastian reels back, in their minds at least, and Matt stills abruptly. The impression, to him, is of a huge, wild beast fettered by a bear trap around its foot. As soon as he wraps his mind around the thought, around the word muzzle--their connection severs.

Matt's eyes widen.

The pressure of Sebastian's hand increases on his chest, and Matt's gaze flicks between his hand and his face and the collar-shaped mark, sharper now. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Set's words are replaying: until he was naught but her creature — pet and rewarded with a place at her feet. He thinks, geas.

It's not a magical impression--just deduction, drawn from piles of occult reading. It's the only thing he can think of that would circumscribe a creature's thoughts and communication. Matt could probably learn more if he spent some time analyzing this thing, cast some kind of scrying spell--but he rejects the thought as quickly as it arrives. It's all well and good to be an autodidact, but this looks like multiple-PhD-level spellcasting. If it can keep Sebastian from communicating with him, it undoubtedly has ways to protect itself.

Ways that could hurt him. ]

I see. [ He is, in fact, about to remove his hand when Sebastian's comes to cover it. It's not touch itself that causes him pain, evidently. ] Well ... I don't know how you would. [ Soft, mordant. ] It doesn't seem very communicative.

[ With nothing to limit his own emotions, Matt's feelings are clear: This thing sucks and he wants it off him. It certainly occurs to him that it might have been put on Sebastian for a good reason, but at bottom, Matt hates thinking of anything or anyone in chains.

In the meantime, he's still holding the placket of Sebastian's shirt between forefinger and thumb. He sighs, unconscious echo of him, and works up a sheepish smile. ]

Do you want to keep going? Because, ah ... [ A gentle tug. ] I really wanna finish getting this off you. But I can wait.

[cutlery]

[ He breathes out a single note of a laugh, but the joke does make his troubled, tight expression soften. ]

It decidedly is not.

[ It’s something he hates, because he doesn’t like to be in chains either. He has his Covenants, and they’re a type of chain, true, but they’re ones he’s very careful in controlling. He never gives up more of his freedom in a contract than he’d allow. So, something like this is infuriating. It’s not the only piece, but it’s certainly a large part of why he’d been unable to stay in Yima’s service.

It’s also why as he opens his eyes again, they’re markedly different. He’s pushing down the irritation, but it remains enough that his eyes better reflect what he truly is. Rather than their usual tea-brown, they’re bright, literally so, as if a magical light were shining through the now richer red iris and snake-slit pupil. He doesn’t think Matt will mind, and once his attention redirects elsewhere, it’ll fade in a blink. ]

Please—

[ It’s not a word he says often, at least not earnestly. He smoothly lifts Matt’s hand from the collar around his neck, but it’s only so he can lift his hand to his lips and place a perfectly genteel kiss on his knuckles. Maybe it’s not all serious, though, since he laughs into his hand just after. ]

Perhaps you are not the only one in need of an evening of forgetting your troubles.

[ There’s at least a half-truth in those words, and it strikes him as odd. Lightly annoying as well, since he’s a deep perfectionist that dislikes even this, the slightest of slips… But he can’t do anything about his new collar tonight or even soon, he imagines. That requires patience alone. He can be patient. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Matt lets Sebastian take his hand--of course--and breathes a warm, appreciative sigh at the kiss. He likes it better for the gleam of vibrant red and serpentine pupil he catches. Gentleman and abyss. Matt is always fascinated by contrasts.

And that please--

Matt can't help wanting to soothe away the pain underneath. That Sebastian is a demon makes no difference, even with Matt's own Goetic history. ]

We can help each other, then. [ Soft. Matt undoes Sebastian's last button with a tiny gleam of triumph. With that hand now free, he takes Sebastian's hand in both of his and coaxes it to rest on his Shard. Matt doesn't fully understand Sebastian's hunger, but he knows it circles this thing; crystalline house of the soul. ] I'll be all yours for the evening.

[ This statement runs the risk of coming off less like a reward, more now I'm responsible for this water bottle. But hopefully it'll land the way it's meant. Matt can't give Sebastian control over himself (right now, at least). But he can give him something. A place, however small, where he has full dominion. ]

[cutlery]

[ He breathes out a soft, pleased sound as Matt undoes that last button, and he starts to shift to take it the rest of the way off, but pauses as Matt takes his hand. He’s surprised at where he pulls his hand, but that too just turns into a warm feeling of surprise. His fingers brush against the crystal gently, since for all his hunger, he is controlled. He takes very great care to be. ]

Are you certain?

[ He asks, but his tone is playful rather than serious. He does shift at this point, but it’s just to get them better aligned as Sebastian sits up a bit more. One hand stays on Matt’s Shard, but the other is used to guide him, including pulling him properly into Sebastian’s lap if he wasn’t already. It’s also enough to (conveniently!) move his shirt and show the much darker crystal of his Shard, but in a matching location. It’s a deep black, the same as those shadows that lurk in his Communion but cut beautifully like a fine gemstone.

And also, like. Sebastian is personally cut too, considering he’d crafted his human form after what he saw as the human ideals of beauty. Classical sculptures had been inspirational, he’d joke. ]

Surely you have heard warnings about offering yourself to the devil.

[ …Well, maybe that part is a little serious, but not for Sebastian, at least. Despite rumors, all demons were not, in fact, the same, and it wasn’t his preference for a sacrifice, but. He can be coy about it, since Matt doesn’t seem to have the trepidation he perhaps should… But it does make a better distraction when he can be a bit more tongue-in-cheek than playing out an illusion of, say, romance.

Fittingly, as he blinks, those devilish eyes are gone and back to amber with no fanfare at all. But he leans in and pulls Matt to him as his lips meet Matt’s neck. He kisses into the curve of his collarbone and traces the edge of Matt’s Shard with his fingertips, feather light in contrast to the more insistent touch of his lips. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Matt's been ... hovering, a little bit, but he's more than happy to follow the pull into Sebastian's lap. He ends up comfortably astride him, shrugging his shoulders to let his button-less shirt fall away. Underneath, he's every bit as slender as you'd expect. Wiry at his core, the way someone who does a lot of yoga and goes for morning runs might be. Apart from the tattoos and Shard, and the faint scar on his cheek, his skin is largely unmarked.

His gaze dips to that spot of dark--Sebastian's Shard, the depthless black of it striking him as awfully appropriate. But that's not where his hands end up. His hands slide lower, fingers rubbing over the ridges and dips of Sebastian's muscles. ]

Ah--

[ The sound, sharp exhale, is both amusement for the remark and pleasure at Sebastian's attention to his throat and collarbone. Matt's neck arches under his mouth, spine swaying him slightly nearer. Not so near that he disrupts the ghosting touch along the edge of his own Shard. ]

I just ... think I'd look good as one of those ritual sacrifices. [ His heart is already beating faster. ] Is white just for virgins?

[cutlery]

[ He hums out a low, pleased note for how Matt’s hand drifts and for the pleasing sound that comes from his own work, but it easily turns into a laugh against his skin. No, the more Matt says or he simply feels through their shared Aspect, the more Sebastian feels assured that he won’t have to worry about too much here. The very worst parts of him will remain secret, of course, but when it comes to the finer points of what he is? ]

Ah… Well, in that, I would agree.

[ There’s no worry at all, basically. If anything, he’s a bit delighted to half-jokingly impart this kind of knowledge. It would have been coveted at “home”, and here he is just giving it between kisses. ]

Though I am admittedly not the type drawn towards virgins. That is not my… style, as it were. If I am being greeted with an orgy, is it not better if they know what they are doing?

[ He continues to dance his fingers around the Shard like it’s something more indecent, and when his fingers finally brush against its surface, it’s a strange feeling, certainly. Having your Shard touched is intimate, and why wouldn’t it be? It’s the core of who they are made manifest, and yet so seemingly fragile. Whether that’s a good or bad feeling is up to Matt, though. ]

So, if you were wearing white for me, I would not tell a soul the truth of the imagery.