THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION

[beleos]

BETWEEN UNCONTROLLED ESCALATION & UNENDING PASSIVITY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ADDITIONAL MATTERS

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

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

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

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

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

A LIGHTHOUSE AGAINST THE ENCROACHING STORM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OOC & (IMMEDIATE) WORLD CHANGES

The full document for this event can be found here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What can we expect next?

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

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

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

And as always!

Questions can be directed here!

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

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

CODING

Comments

[semicharmed]

[ 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. ]

[cutlery]

[ 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?

[semicharmed]

[ 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. ]

[cutlery]

[ 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. ]

[semicharmed]

[ 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. ]

[cutlery]

[ 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.

[semicharmed]

[ 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. ]

[cutlery]

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. ]

[semicharmed]

[ 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. ]

[cutlery]

[ 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. ]

[semicharmed]

[ 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. ]

[cutlery]

[ 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. ]

[semicharmed]

[ 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.) ]

[cutlery]

[ It’s when Matt pulls away that the shadows disappear. Just as suddenly and strangely as they came, they’re gone like mist that quickly dissipates in the air. There’s no sensation of it at all, simply their cool pressure followed by an absence, and there’s no trace at all left behind.

However, as ethereal as they are, it’s followed by something much more physical. What Matt feels, both physical and emotional, it’s something raw to Sebastian’s dull feelings. So, Matt barely has time to breathe his hoarse gratitude as Sebastian dips forward. He holds Matt’s face in both of his hands and kisses him deeply, almost with urgency. If Matt is feeling breathless, Sebastian takes it further.

Because the feeling in Matt’s heart, his Communion… Sebastian doesn’t know it for what it is. The indirect reflection of it that is Communion just drives away whatever sharper, more conscious thoughts he might have had. It’s something new, something intense, and instinctually, he only wants to consume it. It’s not even hunger. It’s simply greed and desire through a demon’s lens.

Yet, it doesn’t last all that long. It’s only a few moments of intensity before Sebastian draws back again to rest his forehead against Matt’s. He huffs out a breath that he might have stolen from Matt, but it turns to a laugh. He laughs as he withdraws from the carnivorous urge because it’s essentially a private joke. Matt doesn’t know just how dangerous that kiss had been, nor would Sebastian ever want him to know. The fact that his souls are stolen with a kiss is simply best to keep secret, for obvious reasons. ]

Excuse me… [ He masks it with gentility, a calming of those shadows and what feelings he does have. ] That was… more intense than I expected.

[semicharmed]

[ From Matt's perspective, nothing unusual happens. Sebastian simply takes his face in his hands and kisses the breath out of him. There's passion in it, hunger--but even though the sharp edges of Sebastian's emotions are somewhat tangible to Matt through their connection, he has no special insight into where they come from. What they mean.

He moans softly into the kiss, lips parting. Sebastian releases him, and Matt gasps down a greedy breath.

When Sebastian laughs, he chuckles. ]

For me too. [ He feels sleepy and wrung out; his hand is heavy as he lifts it to cup Sebastian's cheek. He strokes along the fine arch of his cheekbone, breath still coming unevenly. ] Good, though?

[ The gnosis of Communion has offered Matt some pieces of this answer already. Still, he asks. ]

[cutlery]

Very.

[ He leans into Matt’s touch and closes his eyes for a moment as if savoring the touch. That part isn’t completely true, as it’s more akin to a finely honed dance. However, the sentiment isn’t. It was good, better than most, in fact. Feeling the glimmer of Matt’s experience was nearly intoxicating. Dangerously so, and he could recognize it... But he would not be so surprised next time, he thinks. He’ll have time to temper that more dangerous impulse.

Because, naturally, he expects there will be a next time. He has a newly found interest here, of course, but he thinks it’s one well returned. He opens his eyes again, and his content smile turns just a little more playful. ]

Consider me thoroughly distracted, in fact.

[ That’s also true, at least. He’ll definitely be thinking about this more than the collar, at least for a small while. He tilts his head slightly to kiss into Matt’s palm, then slips his hands slightly down Matt’s neck to rest on his shoulders instead. ]

And I have kept you up all night, I feel. [ Not strictly true, but. ] I hope I have not exhausted you too much.

[semicharmed]

[ In some other timeline, the version of Matt who pondered aloud what it might be like for Sebastian to feel love is going oop.

In this one, Matt's knees are starting to remind him they hurt. He shifts, still between Sebastian's legs, to sit on one hip. And he sighs in contentment as Sebastian kisses his palm. ]

I'm glad you exhausted me, [ he says, smiling up at him. He rubs gently up Sebastian's thigh, palm sliding over the scratches his nails have left. ] I'm going to sleep so well.

[ There's a hint of a yawn in that last part, in fact. Which is an unexpected side benefit of coming here: the emotional turmoil of recent days has made Matt's sleep fitful, even when it's not being interrupted by Set. For the first time in--God, since he landed here?--Matt feels at peace. ]

nvm includes it anywaysc

[cutlery]

[ He laughs gently as he pulls away to lean against the back of the couch. He would stay close, but the position of leaning forward so sharply is also slightly uncomfortable. ]

I am glad to hear it. I wish sleep was something I enjoyed at times like this, admittedly…

[ He probably would sleep at the moment too. It’s nothing as tumultuous as Matt’s stay, but all of the headaches of recent events feel like they would be nice to sleep away… But with the yawn, he holds out a hand, and the slivers of black coalesce until they fall forward into fabric. It’s a thin, silken robe to Sebastian’s taste (aka black and luxurious), and he holds it out for Matt. It’s definitely more comfortable than putting clothes back on. ]

Though I do think I will freshen up, personally. Would you like to join me before you retire?

all i need is a skelebath to complete the set

[semicharmed]

Oh--

[ A curious breath out, as Matt reaches to accept the robe. It feels nice under his fingers, and nicer when he manages to stagger to his feet and slip it on. ]

That sounds great. [ Pretty close to perfect, honestly. Matt's legs feel like jelly, but he has no trouble sweeping up his discarded clothes with a quick intake of breath that levitates them off the floor. (Apart from his strewn buttons. Those he has no hope of recovering.) Matt rubs the sleeve of the robe between his fingertips, sliding a smile Sebastian's way. ] Mm. I really do like wearing your clothes.

[cutlery]

[ He does watch Matt put it on just for the little sense of accomplishment he feels to have gotten the measurements and the cut correct in his mind. But, you know. There’s a tiny bit of appreciation for just observing someone he’s now decidedly intimate with too.

He stands soon after and nods. The shadows wash over Sebastian, since for himself, he has a slight advantage. An identical robe simply materializes on him, and the fabric falls as naturally as if the dark had just draped it over his shoulders. ]

Well, I am hardly an atelier, but it is good to hear that you enjoy them.

[ He gives as glance to his own clothes, but seeing the slight mess as well… He decides that he’ll just tend to it all once Matt has retired. It bothers him just a little to leave a mess in place, but being a good host wins out. So, he starts to lead the way towards the door and softly down the stairs. ]

You may keep it, of course. There is not so much effort in it as in the others, but it is rather simple… I tend to only conjure things for immediate convenience as of late.

[semicharmed]

[ Matt, for his part, is also admiring the fit and fluidity of Sebastian's robe rather than Sebastian himself--the way it appears so effortlessly, shadows unmelting themselves into woven threads. Though by the time he's scooped his floating clothes back into his arms, he's back to appreciating his general gorgeousness. ]

Well--I'll cherish it. [ There's a hint of teasing in Matt's tone, hushed as he pads after Sebastian down the stairs. But as he so often is, he's also completely in earnest. ] I've never worn a piece of conjured clothing before. There might've been some practitioners back home who could have done something like that, but I've always had kind of a block around those types of law-of-physics challenges. Conjuration, transfiguration.

[ Matt's knowledge of other practitioners from his world is spotty at best. But he gets the impression that "turning lead into gold" and "pulling rabbits out of hats" type magic figures much more prominently in fiction than it ever did in real life. ]

[cutlery]

I have never met a human able to do it, personally. And even for me, it is not an easy thing.

[ This also serves as a tour, as it turns out, since Sebastian leads the way to the third bedroom, currently unoccupied, and what was absolutely intended to be a master bedroom. There’s a guest bathroom, of course, but this one is bigger so much better suited for two people. He opens the door to both the bedroom and the bath for Matt, and he waits to continue the conversation until they’re inside. ]

It requires perfect understanding. To create a perfect replica, I would essentially be able to make it by hand anyways. It is not so bad for clothing, save for sizing.

[ Sebastian heads to the shower and turns it on, then shrugs off his own robe. It might have been a lot for such a short walk, sure, but he would find it terribly improper for there to even be the chance of Gavial seeing something untoward. Not because she’s a woman, of course. Simply because she’s a guest. Obviously. ]

All to say that it should last just as long as if it were more the "real" thing. I struggle more with things like food, but clothing is something I have become adept at.

[semicharmed]

[ Matt listens curiously, though his attention isn't quite so sharp as it would normally be. Part of that's pure tiredness. But part of it is his nostalgia for a whole slew of brand-new memories of Sebastian: the touch of those shadows, the vast dark of him, even his tongue on Matt's Shard. Good boy and look at you, look at me. ]

Huh, [ Matt says, as he finds a free spot to deposit his clothes. Then he slips his own robe off and steps towards the shower, holding a hand under the spray to get a sense for the temperature. His movements are languid and satisfied, and though his emotions have calmed since that spike of love/magic/the universe, a thread of deep affection towards Sebastian remains. ] I can see that. The components of food strike me as a little more complicated as the components of clothes ... and the way it all holds together.

Do you have a sense for why it is, though?

[cutlery]

Oh, yes. I am able to conjure food that looks alright, but the taste is always off… I do not understand that aspect of it, after all, and it may not be possible for me to. I have studied extensively to make the form I take on to appear human as convincing as possible, but our senses are ultimately rather different.

[ He laughs a little, since it occurs to him that there’s another excellent example at hand, quite literally. So, he gestures to the shower. ]

You should step in when it is a pleasing temperature. I tolerate extremes far better, so I am not the best at judging what is comfortable for humans, for example… But I have learned in the past few years, at least.

[ In a way, he had to be thankful to Ciel, because his extremely strict and picky nature had been good training for Sebastian when it came to understanding human senses better. He doesn’t burn people with his tea anymore and he understands flavor as something objective to the human palate, even if it’s not his own. It had merely taken many, many months of Ciel dumping his attempts onto the carpet for him to clean. Or his hands. ]

I am usually a short-term visitor to the human realm, so to stay for a few consecutive years has been a rare treat. To say nothing of the worlds beyond such as here, of course.

[semicharmed]

Oh, [ Matt says curiously, as he takes that all in. ] Well, I guess taste is subjective even among humans, but that's really interesting ... I wish I knew a way to let you borrow what I feel when I taste things, but ah. [ A crooked smile. ] My method wouldn't reliably show you food.

[ Notably not never. Just not reliably.

When he decides he likes the shower's temperature, Matt does in fact step under the spray. His hand trails behind him, reaching for Sebastian. And he crooks a finger: gimme. ]

What makes it a treat?

[ It's an idle question, though of course Matt is interested in the answer. Something pleasant to discuss while he feels so thoroughly pleased. ]