kenoslogs | THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION

THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ 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? ]

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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?

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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?

[ 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.

[ Matt laughs. He's taking care to be quiet, so it's a feathering thing, more breath and heat than sound. ]

That's what I think, anyway. [ Matt's hands continue their explorations over Sebastian's skin, greedy to touch everything they can. ] Hard on the virgins, not much fun for you--

[ Matt has been half attuned to Sebastian's finger as it traces out the edge of his Shard. Like the flutter of a burlesquer's fan, the tease of it sharpens his anticipation, whets his appetite. The touch itself, when it comes--

Makes Matt feel, suddenly, very seen. His aching curiosity, his attraction, his lonely heart. He and Sebastian (this him and Sebastian) met with a layer peeled back already, and Matt pulled back another with his channel. This feels like a third--maybe the last. But this is just what he said he'd be for him, isn't it? "All yours." All. Of him, laid bare for Sebastian's perusal. In a sense, he's pleased to make good on an offer so quickly. And in a sense, he isn't ashamed. However messy Matt is, he believes himself to be part of an unimpeachable, beautiful whole.

Matt breathes out, a shaky sigh. Wearing white for me echoes in his ears, lilting like a poem. He finds his fingers have tightened on Sebastian's waist, nails nipping into his skin. Matt loosens his grip. And he lets his head tip back, just slightly, to bare his throat; it's the quickest way he can think to communicate that he's okay. That he even likes it. This axis-tilting vulnerability is rare in its particulars, but as a rule, Matt finds it pretty hot to be vulnerable in front of his partners. ]

[ He does at least slow when he finally makes that contact, since he understands the feeling. It’s vulnerability in an entirely new dimension, and it’s to the point that even a powerful, arrogant demon like him wasn’t immune to that feeling. He can feel how Matt’s breath catches, how his hands tighten on Sebastian’s waist, and he pauses with that.

It's just as he’s about to bull his hand away completely that Matt relaxes. Just a moment to adjust, then. He smiles again, and the tilt of his head is the only direction he needs. His free hand comes back up to grip lightly at his neck with his thumb caressing Matt’s jaw, and he fills the space on the opposite side of his neck.

It’s a hungrier kiss with more of a press of tongue against skin than before, since the fact that Matt accepts such a touch does fill him with some anticipation. Desire flits through Communion like a spark, since naturally, he might not be able to truly partake… But he’ll happily take even the lightest, most basic of tastes. It’s just very direct this way.

…And, you know. Considering he’s just been denied two meals in quick succession, his hunger here is maybe a bit more literal than it should be, but. He has stronger principles about the matter than might be expected, even if some of those principles were also a bit arbitrary to an outside view. ]

Not particularly, no.

[ Oh, did you think the conversation was done? Think again. Sebastian’s mouth might be busy, but Communion offers a secondary option he’s all too eager to indulge. He’s a talker, to put it extremely lightly. ]

It is to some demons’ taste, certainly, but not mine. Pain is not bad— [ And to punctuate his point, he nips at Matt’s neck, but his teeth are practically kittenish as they are at the moment. It’s a pinch of pain, but not even enough to break the skin. ] …But I prefer it to be something enjoyed.

[ Matt has enough clues by now to realize where Sebastian's hunger points. It takes less than it might for another kind of inference; he's worked so long to be attentive to desire and where it bends. Maybe he should find it scary--or rather, maybe he should be sufficiently motivated by fear to pull away, to at least second-guess. But Matt finds all desire to be worth honoring. Sacred. Even a demon's.

Much like having his Shard touched, Communion hits different when it comes during intimacy. Sebastian's voice fills his head like another kind of caress, velvet to raw nerves. Matt shivers. His own thoughts scatter in Sebastian's wake; at the bottom and far away, there's a sense of steady focus. A murmur of ancient words: with hasty feathers all aglow, therewith I pierce thee to the heart.

At the nip, light catch of tender skin in Sebastian's teeth, Matt can't help but squirm: his hips shift down, his hands scrub up Sebastian's sides and over his chest. (He avoids his Shard for now. He doesn't think Sebastian's in a hurry to have that psychic microscope turned on him.) Through Communion, where Matt intends there to be words, the first spill is pure id: yes, more, harder.

He laughs at himself. ]

You're in luck. I find pain a lot of fun.

[ He ducks his head, aiming a kiss at Sebastian's mouth. If he's breaking up Sebastian's flow here, well, he won't mind being stopped and corrected. ]

[ That shiver too&mdash: He makes a pleased sound both for the pleasing movement of Matt’s hands and the enthusiastic response. ]

Good.

[ It’s just a single word that’s said with silky warmth, and maybe there was more to it, but it’s stolen away by the kiss. It interrupts his flow a bit… But he hardly minds. He’s patient. And honestly? Considering his usual partner as of late is the rather extraordinarily selfish Raphael, this is a welcome little change.

He indulges in the kiss, but this one is shorter-lived. Now that he has the permission to play a little rougher… The fingers against Matt’s neck and jaw shift back to thread through his hair, gentle enough to evoke a shiver. It’s an intentional contrast to how he grips it, but it’s a perfectly pleasant pull as he pulls Matt’s head back again to expose his neck once more. But he doesn’t slip back in right away. Just holding him there helps to build the anticipation. ]

So do I, for the record.

[ Giving and receiving is the sense that comes through Communion, but remains unsaid. His other hand finally wanders away from Matt’s Shard and slips down his stomach until he arrives at the waistband. He pauses there and just taps out a playful rhythm with his fingertips. Not only does Sebastian like to talk, he’s a horrible tease about it. ]

—But that gets terribly noisy, does it not? Well, all the more fun.

[ It’s a reminder to keep it down, but it’s certainly not for Gavial’s sake… He dips back into Matt’s neck greedily, this time sucking hard enough to leave a mark from such kisses, but he doesn’t linger there long. His grip in his hair relaxes, and his mouth starts to move down. A nip at the collarbone, a sweeter kiss at his sternum… He’s working his way down, and just the natural gravity of that should pull Matt closer, he imagines. ]

[ Matt allows himself to be held still--as still as he can be right now, with anticipation thrilling through him. Making him tremble in Sebastian's hands like a bird. He sighs, pleased, for so do I; Matt doesn't love inflicting pain for its own sake, but if he knows a partner likes it--hell yes.

Sebastian's fingertips draw down his stomach, Matt's muscles fluttering under his touch. At the little melody he taps out by his waistband, Matt laughs again--softer this time, through some conscious effort. ]

I'd be noisy no matter what, [ he breathes around a smile. ] Left to my own devices, I mean. [ Matt's not a loud person in most areas of his life, but sex has always offered a unique outlet for self-expression. ] If I'm trying--mmm--

[ That's for Sebastian's mouth at his neck, sucking hot kisses into his skin. Despite Matt's anticipation, his craning, the moment manages to surprise him. Matt's thighs tighten around Sebastian's; his hands find the nubs of his nipples and rub between finger and thumb, just briefly. But as Sebastian's mouth starts to sink lower, Matt moves to accommodate him. His hands slide to his shoulders, fingertips kneading into muscle. And his back arches to offer better access to his chest and stomach. ]

[ He’s finding that he’s enjoying this more than he expected. It’s not just the usual pleasure he takes from his games of seduction, though. He’d found the lack of barriers between other Stargazers frustrating, but in this context, it’s much more tolerable. Desirable, even. He’s an adept hand (and mouth—) but it’s still uniquely pleasing to just feel through the current when he’s found a particularly sweet spot.

So, where his own desires tend to run cooler than most, he’s interested to find that isn’t the case now. Perhaps it’s the feedback he gets from Matt this way, or perhaps it’s just an appeal to his deep narcissism, but the feeling of Matt’s hands briefly over sensitive flesh gets him to intake a gasp of air. It’s still soft, since in another ironic contrast for a demon, he’s just quiet by nature, but it is something, and that gets him to laugh in mild surprise. ]

Well, I may be getting ahead of myself…

[ He shifts his hand down to support Matt’s back as they lean into each other. He leaves trail of chaste kisses down to the right side of his chest. He may be more selfishly interested in the other side… But he’ll just as much build up to that for himself. ]

Perhaps if you find me satisfactory, another time you can indulge me by letting me hear how loud you can be?

[ It’s an openly false humble, especially without the barriers between them. But he likes to think his coy arrogance is proven out by his skill. He returns the favor of Matt’s fingers by wrapping his lips around his nipple in a less innocent kiss than the ones preceding it. He swirls his tongue slowly, eyes closed and this time not reaching out through Communion to interrupt the feeling of sensation alone

His other hand doesn’t stay idle, though. While he’d thought to tease at it a bit more, he changes his mind since Matt is perhaps a more fair partner than he’s used to as of late. So, deftly, he starts to work on the fastenings he’d been teasing at with the waistband. ]

[ Sebastian's surprise registers like puffs of cool air to Matt's mind, and that's gratifying in its own way. There's definitely a place for sex where your partner drives you crazy while remaining completely unmoved. But if Matt got to pick, he'd want them to feel a little hotter under the collar than that. The sigh, the laugh--they may be soft, but thanks to their connection, he's granted a touch more insight into what they mean. So as Matt presses back into Sebastian's hand, letting him take a little more of his weight, his hum at his kisses is thoroughly pleased. ]

I can tell you're satisfactory. [ Murmured: Sebastian's more muted reactions are a nice reminder to keep quiet when the thud of his heart urges otherwise. ] It's a date.

[ And Matt really does need the reminder. Sebastian's tongue to his nipple, wet heat sliding languorously around the stiffening nub, would draw a moan under normal circumstances. Now, Matt bites his lip just in time. One hand slides up the back of Sebastian's neck, carding into his hair; the other tightens on his shoulder. And he breathes out, ah.

He does his best not to squirm as Sebastian works at getting his trousers open. They're already becoming uncomfortable. Despite his genuine concern over Sebastian's collar, the good-bad-piercing gaze on the totality of his being that came with having his Shard touched, Matt's young. And he rarely needs to be convinced to want sex.

Fun fact: he's not wearing the same robe from Sebastian's welcome bundle, but this is the same underwear. Matt hadn't thought about that until now. ]

[ He’s pleased (and just a little bit proud) that it’s already a date. It’s not as if he needs encouragement, but his hand on Matt’s back presses just a little more insistently, but he holds the weight easily. It’s just a little more contact that’s a quiet response to the implicit praise. That, and as Matt breathes out a quiet sound, he purses his lips to suck for a moment instead.

…He’s not going to be upset if Matt doesn’t stay quiet, after all. Considering the feeling that drifts through Matt’s mind into his with that held back moan, it’s almost a shame that they need to be quiet. Ah, well. It’s patience saved for that date, clearly.

But as he resumes the work with his tongue, he does glance down once he’s opened his trousers enough that he can catch a glimpse of what he’ll be working with. It’s not the surprise he expects to see. He pops his mouth off Matt’s nipple with a lurid, wet sound, then rests his forehead against his chest as he looks down for more than a little glance. ]

I see you found all my garments sufficient. [ He recognizes his work, since as with everything he makes, it’s hand-sewn, and a stitch is like a signature. ] I am weak to flattery, you know.

[ Playfully, he draws a finger up the length of Matt’s cock through them, as if he were admiring his own work just as much as what’s underneath. But once he reaches the tip, he doesn’t tease further. He shifts his hand back down to palm him through that underwear first with smooth, languorous strokes. It’s a rhythm matched with his mouth as he returns to his previous position, and this time, there’s a feeling mirrored in return. Sebastian is fond of his words (too much), his teasing, but it’s undeniably arousing to have a hard cock in his hand. ]

[ Maybe "cute" isn't the word one should be thinking in relation to an ancient and powerful demon. And that's not exactly what passes through Matt's mind. But he's charmed by Sebastian's instant pleasure when he says he wants a round two. Matt, too, is pleased by small things, little affirmations. For instance: Sebastian's tongue returning to his nipple, making him sigh and card fingers through his hair.

When Sebastian pulls off, Matt peers down. He sees the dark of Sebastian's hair, his own nipple wet and pink from Sebastian's efforts--a sight that prompts another thrill of arousal. He watches him trace the length of his cock through his underwear. Matt's thoroughly average in terms of size, and though he's not totally without hang-ups about it, mainly he just appreciates the differences between his body and other people's. ]

Are you? [ Sebastian starts to stroke him over the fabric, starts to kiss and suck at his nipple again, and finally gets a moan Matt can't hold back. His hips hitch towards his hand. ] Then--you're gorgeous. [ One hand stays in Sebastian's hair; the other starts to slide down his back. ] All of you.

[ Matt means it. Maybe Sebastian's true form isn't beautiful in the same way this one is--maybe it's more like the coldest, most crushing places in the ocean, or the surface of an uninhabitable planet, or the hypnotic swirl of an oil spill. Still, he believes it. ]

[ The feeling that comes with that moan is all it takes to indulge Sebastian’s basic curiosity over how this all works with Communion. It’s not as sharply as how Matt experiences it, but it’s like a shadow of that pleasure that drifts across. Yet, it’s also a unique feeling, since even as a shadow, there is a subtle sort of difference in it simply because of how differently Sebastian experiences emotion. He hums out a pleased note for it as the muscles in his back flex under Matt’s fingertips. It is a feeling that goes straight to his cock as well, but that’s something that can be dealt with in due time.

For now, appreciation drifts across Communion for the praise, but like the praise itself, it’s a bit more layered than that. Normally, he’d accept the praise with cool arrogance, since when it comes to his physical appearance, he has the same pride over it that a sculptor would over their masterwork. More, even. He is gorgeous—it’s exactly how he’d made himself to be. But with Communion, he understands the nuance Matt means by “all of you” better.

He continues in a matching rhythm for his hand and his mouth, unhurried and indulgent, but in that ethereal space of Communion, that ever-present darkness shifts. It’s like it comes closer or maybe that Sebastian allows it to be “seen”. It’s dark shadow with sharp edges, constantly moving and shifting like a current of water, but with it, there’s a sense of relaxation on Sebastian’s part. It’s the implicit show that those too are part of him.

And, well.

Another feeling joins the warm heat of Sebastian’s mouth. It’s a contrast of coolness and a feeling more like running water than anything else, but it’s impossibly weightless on his skin. Sebastian pulls his mouth back to place a kiss on Matt’s chest affectionately, but also so he can see the sharp whorl of darkness that’s present here too. It grows from a from a cast shadow like a dark vine, and it’s even more dexterous than his tongue because of how fine it is.

He drifts to the opposite side of Matt’s chest instead, but he does pause. His mouth hovers over Matt’s Shard, but this time, he asks permission. ]

May I?

[ Since Matt's first encounter with Sebastian, he's done his best to maintain a polite distance from the sense of shadow within him. But now, the dark presence in his mind extends itself towards him, or at least consents to be seen more clearly. Matt follows its swirls and changes with breathless fascination. It's the way he might meditate on a mandala: there's the same absorption in small details, the same risk of sinking. Matt has taught himself to become mesmerized contemplating things so complicated and ever-shifting.

A cool touch cuts across the heat of Sebastian's mouth, dragging a gasp from him; his nails nip into Sebastian's back. Matt's pulled up from his concentration as if by a hook. When he looks down, he sees it's a tendril of shadow touching him. ]

Oh, that's ...

[ Fascinating. Singular. Its caress like silken smoke. ]

Yes, [ he breathes, to Sebastian's question. His hips rock again, seeking more friction in Sebastian's lap. ] Please.

[ This time he knows at least a little of what to expect. That Sebastian will see, taste, the everything that's inside him. His loneliness, the apertures made by old wounds, his love for creation and how it moves. Other things too, maybe; maybe things Matt doesn't know about himself. ]

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