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

[ 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. ]

[ At this point, Sebastian isn’t surprised that people don’t find his shadows off-putting, but it still draws more of a smile out of him to see the fascination. They continue their delicate swirl and constrict just a little simply to show that they can, but the answer is a surprise even so. He wears it openly for a moment, but it turns quickly to delight. ]

Then, excuse me—

[ He asks for forgiveness politely, and maybe some part of that is genuine. There could be a sentiment that it’s a mistake, after all, because Sebastian’s grip on Matt’s back digs in just a little as he holds him more tightly there, and there’s a sense of hunger in Communion that’s more intense than anything else Sebastian has expressed. Feeling like a rabbit that’s kindly offered itself to a wolf would be more than fair.

But Sebastian is well-behaved. He prides himself on his principles, so he does not take unless it’s freely offered. And Matt has only offered a taste.

Still, he drags his tongue offer Matt’s Shard in a way that’s nothing short of obscene. His gaze is low and lidded, because he plans to enjoy his taste. He’s been denied two proper meals, so… He’ll indulge in this wholeheartedly. There’s no pleasure greater than tasting the full sum of a person, their memories, their personality, all they are and ever were— It may not be the full indulgence of a proper meal, but at least Kenos does him the service of making the soul something manifest so that he could sample it more freely than he ever could.

Matt may not have fully understood what he was allowing, true, but it’s also still something that Sebastian rewards more physically. He slips his hand inside the waistband so that he can grip Matt more directly, albeit still gently while his hand is dry.

…It’s also the first time he’s gotten a taste of a soul while stroking their cock, but, well. Kenos seems to be a place of firsts, even for him. ]

[ All Matt gets out is a quick indrawn breath, hn, for the tightening of the shadows, before--

Well, it dimly occurs to him that Sebastian sounds like he's asking his pardon for an impropriety. Then sensations flood him, waterlogging his rational capabilities: warm fingers wrap around his cock, finally despite how brief a time it's really been. The hand at his back tightens, pinning him in place. And hunger scours his mind--the sharpest desire he's felt from Sebastian thus far, making him ache in helpless sympathy despite knowing himself to be its object.

This isn't the first time a lover has wanted to eat him, after all.

When Matt opens a channel, there's a sense of total knowledge, if narrowly applied. Knowledge of the body. It's mutual, shared with perfect equilibrium. This is different. Sebastian's tongue laves him open, and there is no opening in return. Just Matt, sticky petals all pressed apart; quivering calyx bared to Sebastian's teeth. And maybe it's fucked up, or a sign that someone like Vincent really is his destiny, but it doesn't put Matt off for a second. His cock stiffens in Sebastian's hand. He lets out a whimper, half-swallowed. The sound is something between overwhelm and affection and prey-animal dread, but when he speaks again, it's to gasp: ]

More ... more of your hand, please.

[ His own scrubs down Sebastian's back, palming planes of muscle, and drags back up. The other tightens in Sebastian's hair. ]

[ It’s probably strange, the sensation that comes with that taste of the soul. It’s a different sense entirely for Sebastian, and taste and sight are merely his analogies for it. It’s an understanding and little snippet of a person, though even when he eats fully, they’re not very concrete. Here, they’re little more than whispers.

But there are pieces that drift through incompletely—the softness of a childhood memory, a bitterness of disappointment, things like that. It’s complex, because what else could a soul be? And the way it develops on Sebastian’s “palate” makes it much more understandable why he craves this so much. It’s delicious, but not in a way that satisfies the tongue or the stomach. It’s a core of what he is being sated—yet, it’s a hunger that never diminishes in the slightest.

There is a part of him that wants to pry it out with his teeth and simply swallow it whole. That abyss wants it, and another demon might simply take it. It’s not as if Matt would be able to stop him. But he draws away from his Shard with a hot puff of breath. It would be easy, but it would not be to his taste… In multiple respects. But it’s undeniably arousing that Matt would offer himself so to him, even so.

So, he hardly needs to be told twice.

His grip gets firmer as he strokes Matt’s cock with a quicker pace, and he moves away from the tempting treat of the Shard. He’s had his indulgence, so he’s happy to return it in kind. It provides an excellent distraction to turn that hunger elsewhere, as it were, and it shows with how that languid pace gets abandoned. He shifts back to Matt’s nipple and gives it a small bite first, but any of that pinch is quickly soothed with his tongue. And for the other, it’s only a moment after that the cool sensation of shadow follows—He’s essentially just switched places because it’s better for his mouth to be on this side, as it turns out. It’s a sharp contrast of wet heat and ethereal cool, all while he works his cock. ]

[ Sebastian's grip firms, and Matt groans. Sebastian's teeth close on his nipple, and he makes another thready sound. It's the touch of shadow, cool caress, that really surprises him, though. The contrast with Sebastian's mouth is maddening, fascinating; Matt's head tosses fitfully back at the opposing sensations.

He wants to kiss him again. He wants to try sucking on these shadowed tendrils, or Sebastian's cock, or possibly some blend of the two. Would this be a little better with some form of lubrication? Sex usually is, but Matt's not thinking about that. He runs his fingers through Sebastian's hair, tracing the shell of his ear distractedly. Sebastian strokes a particularly good spot, with just the right amount of pressure, and Matt bites his lip. His thighs tense and flex as he pushes into the tightening ring of Sebastian's hand. ]

Oh that's good--good-- [ Matt's so intent on staying quiet that the words come out just above a whisper. Breathy, uneven. ] I wanna put you in my mouth.

[ Matt's more than happy to continue as they are. But Sebastian seems to like both talking and praise, so he lets some of his stream-of-consciousness out. Matt's desires are many, constantly multiplying, some mutually exclusive. Right now, all of them focus on Sebastian. ]

[ It’s easy to simply feel him smile, because Matt is absolutely right. The way Matt moves and the feeling of flushed warmth under his lips is plenty to tell him that he’s doing his job well, but it’s different to hear it. He looks up just to catch a glimpse of his face for the delight of that, but the offer catches him a little off guard. His sultry expression blooms into a more pleased little laugh, and the supportive grip on Matt’s back relaxes. ]

Well, I would hardly complain for that. On the contrary…

[ He trails off as he keeps stroking Matt’s cock dutifully. Once he’s sure that he has his balance, he removes his hand from his back to work at the fastenings of his own pants finally. The discomfort was nothing unmanageable, but he still breathes a sigh of relief all the same. Even if he was just saying that for the sake of it, Sebastian at least appreciates an excuse to free up his other hand for the moment.

…Which, sure. His shadows could have done it. But that’s something he’d prefer to use for Matt than himself at the moment.

He gives Matt’s chest another kiss, then tilts his head up slightly so he can rest his chin on his chest. ]

But I would not want you to feel neglected, of course.

[ ...Unlikely, of course. He can just bring forth more of those shadows, since Matt seems to like them, but. He'll let Matt lead the way, since that's hardly the only option. ]

[ It's considerate of Sebastian to keep a hand on Matt while he gets his pants open. Downright gallant, in Matt's estimation. He watches Sebastian's fingers move--on his cock, at his trouser fastenings--and follows Sebastian's sigh with one of his own, hungry and pleased.

Sebastian kisses his chest. Looks up at him. And Matt smiles, fingers ghosting over the shell of his ear again, this time traveling down to rub at the hinge of his jaw. ]

I feel ... very central right now, [ he assures him.

With what feels like immense effort, Matt raises himself from Sebastian's lap and steps back. Just far enough to shuck off his trousers and underwear; then he sinks down in front of him, knees bumping lightly to the floor. Matt looks up. There's no sense in his eyes, or his emotions, that this is something he's offered out of obligation: there's only anticipation, the sweet ache of deferring pleasure. An urge, verging on prayerful, to put all thoughts out of his mind. Matt's palms slide up Sebastian's thighs, up to his waistband, and he tugs gently to help pull his trousers down. ]

[ The trace against his jaw is a pleasant feeling that he leans into by turning his head just slightly. He gives Matt’s hand a kiss that’s soft and fittingly courtly for his (decidedly former at this point) time period, but his gaze doesn’t match it. His eyes stay on Matt’s, and reserved as Sebastian seems to be otherwise, the openly desirous look seems special.

…Which isn’t totally untrue. There’s absolutely a facet of Matt’s own desire that’s so clear through Communion that’s feeding into Sebastian’s.

So, he makes a soft, pleased noise as Matt withdraws, and he readjusts with him smoothly. ]

I am glad to hear it. I do not think it will surprise you to hear that I enjoy serving others.

[ Well, other than the whole demon part, at least. His amiable manners and easy hospitality are what he means. The former definitely throws people off…

He lifts his hips as Matt pulls at his trousers, and even that elicits another pleased sigh to be rid of them. The outline of his cock is clear through his underwear, and despite what some might imagine for a demon, he’s just on the slightly larger side of average.

He does watch Matt with curious interest as he goes, both to see his work and just his own reactions. Though, unfortunately (?), now that his mouth isn’t otherwise occupied… He does keep talking. At least it’s still casual and warm. ]

So much so that would you believe this is something of a rare treat?

[ The kiss to his hand prompts a gently blooming smile as he pulls away, steps back. Matt is always willing to be seduced by little gestures. ]

It doesn't surprise me, no. [ If Matt had any doubts about Sebastian's enjoyment of service, his arrival here tonight would've put them to rest. It also doesn't surprise him that Sebastian keeps talking, but he likes it; he smiles as he listens, tracing his cock from root to tip through his underwear. Just briefly, almost playful as he echoes how Sebastian touched him earlier. Then he makes to take this last layer off as well. ] But it's a shame that this is rare for you ...

I'll have to make it count.

[ With Sebastian's underwear out of the way, Matt settles back between his legs. The position--kneeling in front of him, his cock so temptingly close to mouth level--has Matt feeling flushed all over again, hyperaware of his own erection. His palms skim up Sebastian's thighs again, this time touching bare skin. He leans forward and presses a kiss just to the inside of Sebastian's knee. Gentle, precise. He starts to nip and suck his way up his thigh. ]

[ The gesture being mirrored makes Sebastian laugh again, though the smile is playfully sly. Just from its tilt alone, it’s easy to imagine him calling Matt something like “cheeky”, but it’s kept to himself. He moves just as smoothly as this last layer is removed, or perhaps even more so. It’s not actually all that often that people see him totally nude, so shameless as he is, he shifts so it can be appreciated. It’s nothing more than subtle gestures like flexing just so or pointing toes to show off his legs, but it’s absolutely meant to be seen and noticed. He’s perfect, after all, because that’s precisely how he'd made himself. ]

Please do.

[ He sits back comfortably, and there is a little flush of arousal that drifts through their connection as Matt settles in return. He’s telling the truth, after all. It’s really not all that often that someone volunteers, largely because Sebastian will happily take up that position himself first, generally speaking. He thinks to ask if Matt might like for his shadows to work over him in return, but as soon as he starts to work his way up his thigh…

He sighs out a content noise.

He reaches to Matt’s head once he’s close enough, and it’s his turn to thread his fingers through Matt’s hair. His touch is gentle, and it’s definitely just an added point of connection rather than any further insistence. Yes, for once, he really might just indulge without any further motive. It simply feels good, and that’s enough. It's certainly plenty to forget his bad run of luck as of late. ]

[ Sebastian's smile gets a little arch of Matt's eyebrows. But he's quick to focus on the rest of him: the line of his body against the couch cushions, down through long and tautly muscled legs. Matt considers, too, his sharp, fine tendrils of shadow. Maybe not the stuff of Greco-Roman sculpture, but engrossing all the same. Chthonically beautiful.

He nuzzles at Sebastian's thigh, nose and lips brushing tender skin. He's pleased that Sebastian isn't in a rush. It accords with his own desire to take his time, to bite him a little more sharply and suck kisses along the furrow of his thigh before proceeding to the main event. Matt hums as he goes, sighs contentedly at Sebastian's hand in his hair. His free hand braces on Sebastian's other thigh, thumb rubbing absently back and forth.

He turns his head, at last, to Sebastian's cock. Breathes out, a warm gust over his shaft. And carefully, he licks a stripe up the length of Sebastian's erection. ]

The nice thing about this, [ he murmurs, nuzzling at Sebastian's shaft. Lips brushing the head of his cock when he speaks. ] Is I'll have to be quiet, when my mouth's full.

[ With that, Matt wraps his lips around the head of Sebastian's cock. He breathes in through his nose, coaxing relaxation into his tongue, down the line of his jaw and throat. And he slides down to take Sebastian in. ]

[ It’s a credit to what he’d said earlier that the bite draws out more of a feeling than the kisses. Both are nice, of course, but… He has his preferences, and in this case, they’re true to stereotype.

He sucks in a breath at the touch of Matt’s tongue, and it’s a soft enough gasp that it would banish any remaining doubt that maybe the challenge of being quiet wasn’t totally a fair one. That seems to be where he lands naturally, though there’s no sense that it’s from holding such reactions back. Even in this, he’s just soft-spoken. But that breath is released again as a warm noise as he looks down while Matt speaks.

It's a lovely sight. It’s a coil of anticipation, but the remark ends up turning it to a pleased laugh that stutters slightly once Matt actually starts. ]

That is one way to stick to the “rules”, true…

[ There’s humor in his tone, since he’ll hardly complain, of course. He leans his head back to rest against the back of the couch with his eyes closed, since as nice as the sight is, he’d rather luxuriate in the sensation for the moment. His fingers slip further into Matt’s hair and curl with pressure so that it’s a little bit more of a grip. Yes, he’s so often the one doing the serving that this is nice. And yet, he has to ask (though it might partially be because Matt’s mouth is occupied at the moment)— ]

Would you like more of my shadows? Or shall I leave you to it?

[ Matt doesn't mind Sebastian's quiet at all. It makes him that much more pleased to earn a sound from him. And of course, their connection brings a measure of certainty he might not have otherwise. Matt often feels certain during sex, lifted by a sense of pleasure and purpose like an ocean tide; but the link between Aspects is, in some senses, a little more precise. Immensely helpful in determining whether you're on the right track.

Matt sinks down smoothly, taking in as much of Sebastian's cock as he can comfortably manage. He flicks a glance up at him to see his eyes are closed, head tipped back to expose the long column of his throat. Matt sighs around him, a longing and appreciative sound. Sebastian tightens his grip in Matt's hair, making his head tilt to follow the impulse ever so slightly. Matt is easy to direct. He's taught himself to be. He luxuriates a moment in the touch, in the yielding to it, in Sebastian's heft on his tongue. Then, for the question--

There's an immediate pulse of arousal. Matt moans something around him--technically not a reply--and starts to bob shallowly, pulling off Sebastian's cock and sinking back down. His Communion is a tangle of heat and distractions, from minding the angle of his head to the relax, relax he's whispering to his muscles. But real words soon surface: ]

Please. Touch me with them.

[ There's a sense that Matt expects to drive himself a little crazy sucking Sebastian off while he's already hard, and that adding more touch to the mix will make it worse. In a way Matt would thoroughly enjoy. ]

[ Matt’s sigh and the tilt of his head in response to that grip gets Sebastian’s abdominal muscles to flutter with a pang of arousal, and it’s only sharpened when he’s met with the echo of Matt’s. It’s an odd feeling, but not unpleasant in the slightest. On the contrary, his cool, relaxed smile widens into one that shows just the barest bit of his fangs as he laughs again for the novelty of it.

So, it’s novelty he returns.

It’s probably not something Matt’s really able to look directly at, but the shadow underneath him darkens. And from that, a larger whorl of that prehensile shadow snakes around his leg. Sebastian intentionally gives it a bit more pressure so that there’s more sensation with it as it moves rather than being ticklishly light as it moves quickly up. It curls fully around his thigh and then up to his waist where it settles like a small chain of weight across his lower back. It’s in part a convenient resting place for the majority of it, but with how it never stops shifting, however subtle, it’s a place that also feels quite nice.

More slowly than it made its way there, the shadows spread down over Matt’s tattooed hip and wrap around the base of his cock. It feels nothing like Sebastian’s hand, of course, but the cool pressure is pleasantly alien and stranger to look at, since it looks like nothing more than ink on the skin. And after feeling how Matt reacts to that, they move further so that they’re coiled around him. They undulate in a slow rhythm, and it’s fairly clear through the hum of interest and the feeling with it that Sebastian does have some sensation of touch through them, but it’s much more muted compared to his physical body.

Which is good, of course He’d rather focus on that, considering. The shadows take little of his attention, so he tilts his head to side lightly to open his eyes and look down at Matt now that they’ve both gotten started, essentially. His fingertips rub little circles, and they’re encouragement and praise all at once. ]

Please do not stop.

[ Though he says "please", it's more his overly polite vocabulary... He's polite, but his tone is still much more dominant than it has any note of begging. ]

[ Matt expects the brush of shadow to come. But it's such a new sensation to him that he can't wholly anticipate it. At the first cool touch to his leg, he goes still, breath catching in his nose.

The shadow spreads in a coiling caress. It reaches his waist, and Matt's spine curves at the gentle pressure. It reaches his hip and wraps around his cock, its chill a pleasant shock to the hottest part of him. Each new touch draws a sound: first a stuttered breath, then a sigh, then finally a moan. All of them muffled around Sebastian's cock, Matt's tongue working against the underside of his shaft. His fingers dig into Sebastian's thigh.

He pulls off him with a wet 'pop,' needing a moment to breathe and reset. He blinks down at himself and catches an inky swirl of black, coiled around his hip and cock like they belong there. Beautiful, he thinks. And when Sebastian says please this time, his tone is enough to get Matt to stop thinking altogether. A blissful brushstroke to his overbusy mind. He looks up at him, affectionate and grateful, and wraps his mouth around him again.

This time, Matt's dips and bobs are more deliberate. A little faster, as he falls into a rhythm. One hand comes to the base of Sebastian's cock, fingers curling to cover what his mouth can't reach--though with every slide, that distance grows less and less. Matt swallows around him, teasing and daring himself to admit Sebastian deeper. The back of his throat begins to protest, but he wants it. Wants to feel Sebastian in him to the hilt. Matt's hips roll into the shadows' grasp; his nails drag hard across Sebastian's thigh. ]

[ He keeps watching as Matt pauses to take a breath. The corners of his eyes lift with nearly mischievous amusement, since it’s plain on Matt’s face, but it’s something else to feel the sense of admiration. The fact that the shadows aren’t something that people don’t reflexively recoil away from is still something new to him, relatively speaking. In fact, those that have seen them in Kenos have been more fascinated by them over anything else. Considering they’re a shade of what Sebastian truly is, well…

It's not something he muses over long, since that soft-toned request had caught Matt’s attention. Their eyes meet, and this time he does watch with appreciation as Matt sinks onto him. He’d reveled in the sensation alone as he’d started, so this time, he takes in the visual too. What a lovely one it is. He gasps out a sound that’s much closer to a moan of his own, a soft little oh of pleasure, and the shadow in the curve of Matt’s back sits just a bit heavier. It feels like it could be the equivalent of hands tightening on his waist.

The shadows continue to work his cock, but they also coalesce every so often around the head. It swirls like a tongue might, but the purpose is twofold. There’s the more intense sensation of it, of course, but they do carry whatever slickness gathers to make all of it feel more slick and wet—and to warm their work just a bit.

Sebastian’s free hand curls into the plush couch just a bit, since he can give that more pressure than his other hand that’s still tangled firmly into Matt’s hair. He gasps sharply to feel the swallow, and the muscles of his hips flex as he wants to chase that tight sensation, but. He minds his manners, always. ]

You are doing wonderfully. This- It feels very good.

[ He goes with praise to encourage what he wants instead. His voice is low and dark, the kind of velvety tone that’s perfectly tuned to draw a shiver alone. He relaxes his grip in Matt’s hair just a bit, lest there be any concern that he would be pushy— ~~that’s second date material~~ ]

You can take just a bit more, I am sure.

[ Matt does like to be praised. And the way Sebastian sounds doing it--low and caressing, dark drip of morphine and velvet--it's intoxicating. Matt can't help another soft moan around him. How could he? With the shadows' spectral touch slick and thrilling, just firm enough to keep his arousal spiking hotter; with Sebastian nudging at the back of his throat. Tears have started to well at the corners of his eyes, and he welcomes them. Everything that pushes him out of his mind, deeper and deeper into his body--that's a gift.

Matt's hands have gone still as he focuses. He tips his head, sloppy now as he seeks just the right angle for his neck and jaw. As he works to relax himself just enough to let Sebastian all the way in, embracing the ache of it. You can take just a bit more feels like a commandment set in stone, like the only words that have ever been.

Finally, effort gives way to gliding effortlessness. Matt's nose brushes the base of Sebastian's stomach; he feels Sebastian fully seated in his throat. What remains of his thoughts pop like soap bubbles, replaced with a throb of pure want. If anything comes through Communion, it sounds like yes and you. ]

Oh—

[ It’s just a soft sound, but it’s a hot purr in both the tone of his voice and the sharp jolt of arousal. The feeling of his earnest efforts as he swallows his cock are enough to banish away thoughts in favor of the luxurious squeeze of pressure and wet heat. His hips twitch up reflexively as he drinks up the sight just as much as the feeling itself, but the sharpest spike of that arousal comes from Matt’s earnest obedience, honestly. He is a demon, after all. ]

Look at you… [ And look at me, he carries as a feeling more than words through Communion, because he does want the sight of their eyes meeting. If he does, it’s when he receives his loaded praise, since he’s guessing that Matt is the type to enjoy it. ] Good boy. You spoil me with your skill.

[ But regardless if Matt looks or not, Sebastian shifts his fingers through Matt’s hair in a way that makes it clear that he’s “allowed” to come back up, essentially. His enjoyment here might be for twisted psychological games, but at least he’s not the sort of demon that actually wants his partners to choke on him (or not ordinary humans, at least).

So, it’s Matt’s reward that the shadow nestled on his back slithers again as the one wrapped around his cock continues to jerk him off with even, smooth strokes. It forks along his back into thin tendrils of darkness, and they both wrap around his nipples with pinching pressure before swirling more gently. ]

Just a bit more—

[ Or at least not if Matt is inclined to keep his pace dipping deeper. ]

[ The urge that flows through Communion seems to lift Matt's chin like an eddying current, flicking his eyes up and open to meet Sebastian's gaze. Matt's eyes are trembling with tears of strain, focusing on Sebastian's face only with difficulty. At good boy, he moans, lashes pressing wetly shut again. His hips rut mindlessly against the shadows coiled around his cock, nails digging into Sebastian's thighs. Of all the praise Matt could receive, his very favorite kind comes like this: after he's made a show of devotion to his partner's pleasure. After he's ached and pushed for them, even bled.

All he wants is to stay here, holding Sebastian in his throat as the urge to breathe swells to a fever pitch. Then Sebastian's fingers shift in his hair, and all Matt wants is to follow their gentle lead. In Tarot, the Devil is depicted with a chained man and woman; but crucially, the chains are thin and gauzy, easily broken. Only obedience keeps them tethered. Matt's trembling to show Sebastian how well he can follow him, how easily he can mold himself to a glance or the flick of a fingertip.

He pulls back, breathing raggedly. He's so focused on Sebastian, attention torn between his face and his cock, that the touch to his nipples takes him totally by surprise. ]

Oh-- [ That's a whimper, sharper and louder than any sound Matt's made so far tonight. His hips rock forward again, a shallow thrust for how good the pinching tendrils feel. Moisture has started to bead at the tip of his cock. For the first time tonight, Matt's completely forgotten he was supposed to be staying quiet. When he slides back onto Sebastian's cock, it's purely for the pleasure of taking him in again. The pleasure of drawing reactions from him, blown larger through their connection.

Matt moves slowly at first, a muffled moan escaping as he manages to take Sebastian's whole length into his throat again. Then he starts to move faster, chasing that just a bit more. As he lets Sebastian penetrate his throat again and again, everything else falls away. The room, the ache in his knees, even his own throbbing erection. A thread of spit slides down his jaw, his chin, and it's good because it's for him. Everything is for him. ]

[ The look is lovely, and for the moment their eyes meet, Sebastian conveys they praise in his expression alone, practiced as he is, but it drifts through Communion too. The feeling isn’t exactly affection, but it’s like a warm caress of feeling all the same. That good boy is taken exactly as Sebastian might hope, and that only adds to the warmth.

That, and the reverberation of the moan feeds into another sharp pang of arousal. The shadows tighten around Matt’s cock as if to match, but how much of that is intentional versus reflexive is impossible to judge. Sebastian huffs out an indistinct noise all the same, and he finds that Matt needs no further honeyed words. He’s perfectly willing to continue without his encouragement.

So, his other hand comes up to Matt’s head, though it’s no more controlling a gesture. It’s more touch and a more natural place to rest both of his hands now that he’s certain there’s no question. It’s admittedly been a while since someone seemed to be more concerned with his pleasure rather than their own, so it’s something he indulges in.

He finds a rhythm with Matt’s movements where the shadows move in a nice tandem. It’s a fainter feeling, truly a shadow by comparison, fittingly, but he can feel the wet throb of Matt’s cock, the hardness of his nipples as he rolls them like the shadows were deft fingers. But of course more presently is how enthusiastically Matt allows Sebastian to fuck his throat.

It’s a combination of those feelings and that odd, recursive feedback of a shared Aspect that has Sebastian closing his eyes too. His cock throbs against Matt’s tongue as he stutters out a groan of his own. It’s still soft, almost demure in how his brow worries and he tilts his head towards his shoulder like that might muffle it further. But by the time saliva drips past Matt’s lips, Sebastian’s (technically unnecessary) breaths are coming as hot little huffs. ]

Matt— [ He says his name, and it’s heavier than even he intends. There’s a pleased sort of annoyance too, since he’s someone that values his composure deeply… And that’s exactly why most of his partners enjoy taking it away from him. ] May I…

[ He trails off as his fingers tighten in Matt’s hair just a little to finish the question. It’s still a flavor of composure that he keeps that his manner of speech is so polite, and there’s really not much of an eloquent way to ask if you can come in someone’s mouth, much less their throat. ]

[ The sound of his name gets Matt's eyes snapping open once more. Just in time to see Sebastian's head tipped to the side, eyes closed and brow furrowed. His lips parted around labored breaths. He's gorgeous.

(Playing out in parallel in the basement of Matt's brain, too deep and wordless to count as a thought: vast dark, an absence brimming with potential.)

It's true, Matt does enjoy ruffling a partner's feathers. Shaking their composure. But while the ruffling, the coming apart, can be hot all on its own, what Matt wants most right now is to know he's giving Sebastian pleasure. Their shared Aspect provides an indulgent lens, a new and unexpected layer over the rest of his signals--the way Sebastian's cock throbs on his tongue, the sound of his breathing as it quickens. Matt moans around him; the ragged edges of his Communion feel like a moan too. Yes, yes ...

His hips arch into the tightening ring of Sebastian's shadows. Matt's so close to overwhelmed by all these points of contact: Sebastian's cool ink on his nipples, his cock; his heat and heft filling his mouth and throat; Sebastian's velvet in his mind. The only thing holding Matt back from the edge, the only thing he's waiting for, is to feel Sebastian come. ]

[ It’s all particularly indulgent for Sebastian, who isn’t someone that seeks out sexual pleasure. He would enjoy it regardless, but Matt’s experience of it mirrored in Communion is far different and more intense than Sebastian naturally feels it. That’s the benefit of being human, so far as Sebastian sees it. It’s a warmer experience—fuller—and the moan through Matt’s mouth and his mind is the last piece he needs.

There’s a small feeling of gratitude, but with permission given, Sebastian’s hands tighten in Matt’s hair as he pulls his head down just a little more forcefully. He pushes his cock into Matt’s throat fully as he comes with a gasp for the more intense feeling that prompted it, but it turns into a gently indulgent moan. It’s still soft enough that it surely wouldn’t be heard down the little flight of stairs, but it feels more private for that. It’s something only for Matt to hear.

And the shadows hold Matt fully. Those on his body stutter for a moment too, since they’re very much a part of Sebastian rather than something independent, but they’re a bit more intense in Communion instead. The coils of dark in Sebastian’s mind slip more intently along Matt’s, but it’s not like they’re trying to consume him. It’s more akin to interlocking fingers, an intimate embrace of Sebastian’s mind and his pleasure against Matt’s own.

He doesn’t hold Matt there insistently, only for a few seconds, then his grip relaxes. The stuttering of the shadows only lasts as long as well, then they start to move in earnest again. It might not be necessary, considering Matt is close too, but he does like overstimulating his partners just a bit, so. ]

[ Sebastian has been exceedingly polite this evening. In every way one could think of, really, from opening his home to Matt to handling him with such a relatively gentle touch. And Matt appreciates that, he truly does. But when Sebastian pulls him down and thrusts deep, making Matt gag, arousal flares in his gut. It's the kind of white-hot lust that subsumes all discomfort, turning it into fuel for itself.

For just a moment, Matt's suspended, as if Sebastian's shadows are holding him in deep, dark water. He wishes he could memorize how Sebastian's mind feels weaving with his--the tendrils of coiled ink against his too-hot and gasping bright--and keep a piece of it forever. He feels Sebastian spill down his throat, hears that delicious moan. It seems like no time passes before Matt's hips are bucking helplessly in orgasm, spurts of sticky white streaking his stomach and the couch.

(Sorry.)

The shadows keep stroking him after he's come, making him shudder, then whimper as the pleasure spikes a little too much. He likes feeling it, though. The intensity, the sharp notes plucked on overplayed nerves. Matt pulls off of Sebastian's cock, staring up at him in a daze. His lips slightly parted, his breath coming fast.

At last, hoarsely: ] Thank you.

[ That's what his mouth says. His emotions are somewhat more pronounced. As his body floods with bright, warm chemicals, his heart swells with a sensation he can only ever define as magic or love. He could crawl over broken glass for Sebastian right now. He'd do anything.

(This is ... not normally the kind of sentiment Matt expresses to his partners, despite often feeling it. He hasn't thought about what it might mean to have sex with someone who can sense his emotions.) ]

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