THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION

[beleos]

BETWEEN UNCONTROLLED ESCALATION & UNENDING PASSIVITY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ADDITIONAL MATTERS

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

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

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

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

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

A LIGHTHOUSE AGAINST THE ENCROACHING STORM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OOC & (IMMEDIATE) WORLD CHANGES

The full document for this event can be found here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What can we expect next?

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

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

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

And as always!

Questions can be directed here!

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

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

CODING

Comments

[cutlery]

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. ]

[cutlery]

[ He laughs softly at the gesture, but there’s no hesitation as he steps to follow and places his hand in Matt’s as if he were accepting a dance. He has an answer in mind for the matter of food, that Communion would likely convey it decently enough (but also that he rather likes the challenge at this point), but the second question gets him to make a light, thoughtful noise. That’s a much better one, he thinks. ]

Well, it is that I like humans, in short.

[ He gives Matt’s hand a coy squeeze as if to accentuate that, but then withdraws his hand so that he can place both of his hands on Matt’s shoulders and lean forward to catch from of the stream of water as well. The shower itself has enough room for them both, but as is always the case when sharing showers, the showerhead itself is only so big… But considering how they ended up here, Sebastian rather doubts that Matt will mind how he presses up against him. ]

But a fair enough analogy is the idea of travel. Think of it that way and I am only travelling for business. I have a limited time to enjoy the sights of whatever place I’m visiting, much less to talk to the people that live there, and then I must return home. A fleeting taste has its charms, but if it is a place you adore visiting, would you not want to stay in that country for a little longer?

[ He draws back just a little so that he can run a hand through his hair to slick it back. His long bangs frame his face well, but as soon as its wet, it just sticks to his face completely, so. Less than ideal. ]

It is a chance to relax a bit more. To meet people and understand them, to see the kind of art and innovation that is simply not possible for my kind… What else could that be but a treat?

[semicharmed]

[ Matt hums--first thoughtfully, for the first part of Sebastian's answer, then low and pleased as Sebastian puts his hands on his shoulders. Matt sways gently back against him, shivering despite the warm water. For all their recent intimacy, there's still so much of Sebastian that Matt's greedy to touch--so many fascinating configurations the two of them could make. Even now, sated and half-asleep, he can't help but thrill at the possibilities.

He listens curiously as Sebastian talks. The word relax gets his lips twitching a bit, mordant amusement rippling through his mind, but he figures "a chance to relax" probably refers to mortal realms in general, rather than the specific circumstances they find themselves in. ]

I see. [ He reaches for the soap, starting to scrub off the spots that need it most. Still moving languidly, but slightly more alert now. ] I like art and innovation too, of course. And people. I guess I've never really envisioned a place where they just ... don't exist.

[cutlery]

[ That little spike of emotion does get Sebastian to consider initiating again, admittedly. But luckily (?), that pleasantly tired feeling comes through too, so he decides against it. Considering how Matt had ended up on his doorstep, a night of pleasant rest was surely in order over exhaustion. Fun as the latter could be.

Since Matt is the one with a bit more to clean up, practically speaking, Sebastian takes this at a languid pace too. He takes a small step closer so that Matt can fully lean against him, and he rests his head on Matt’s shoulder. He closes his eyes mostly to keep the water out of them, but his expression does seem relaxed and content as well. ]

That is the real torture of Hell, honestly. Once you get past all the horrors, it is a far duller place than you would expect. So, perhaps it is a more mundane reason than most would have, but I truly do not wish to return.

[ He’s partially joking with his choice of words, of course, but the sentiment is sincere. Therefore, what he follows it with might be a bit funny. ]

I can wash your hair, if you would like. I have been told I give an excellent scalp massage.

[ Just a demon from actual, literal Hell casually offering his masseuse services… As he does. He would deny it vehemently, but he’s definitely been domesticated, at least somewhat. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Undoubtedly, Matt would reciprocate if Sebastian started something up again. But he's quite happy with things as they are now: the long, gorgeous line of Sebastian's body at his back. Sebastian's head on his shoulder. Just standing warm and close under the soothing water. ]

"Hell is boring" sounds a lot like "hell is other people," [ he muses. ] It'd be torture to me, that's for sure. At least with whips and hot pokers someone's paying attention to you.

[ He's not being entirely serious. And anyway, Sebastian distracts him with his very appealing offer. ]

That sounds amazing. [ Matt makes a sound halfway between a yawn and a sigh, tipping his head back slightly as if to offer it (though the angle isn't very convenient, practically speaking). ] I love getting massages. Giving them too.

[ Matt finishes up with the soap and hands it back to Sebastian. Something prickles at his mind about Sebastian--how he'd said he usually gives and rarely receives. ]

I'd love to give you one sometime, [ he adds. ] When I'm more awake. My specialty's more of the full body than scalp, though.

[cutlery]

Quite. And that is to say nothing of all the hierarchy and bueracracy…

[ He raises his head from Matt’s shoulder, since it’s definitely not the position for a scalp massage or for taking the soap handoff. ]

—Oh.

[ At least there’s no question that he might have been lying, since the surprise is crystal clear when Matt offers. Sebastian takes the soap with a thoughtful little noise as he pulls away just enough to wash his own body. Not too much, though, naturally, lest he pull away from Matt. ]

…If it is not imposing. [ Matt may have literally just offered, and yet the politeness must be stated. ] I do not know if I have ever received a proper one, to be completely honest.

[semicharmed]

[ Matt was half-expecting this reply, but it still prompts a tangible ripple of dismay. Sebastian may be a demon from the depths of hell, but in Matt's opinion, everybody deserves to be pampered now and then. ]

Then I can be the first, [ he says with a small smile. Matt's back is still to Sebastian, as he happily drinks in all the contact he can get. But given how their connection's worked thus far, he's confident Sebastian will be able to tell how pleased the prospect makes him. In a teasing tone, he adds, ] I can't believe you made this fantastic body and people haven't insisted on getting their hands all over it.

[ The Victorian era may have been a more repressed time than his own, but massage has been around for thousands of years, right? Get it together, people. ]

Takes all kinds, I guess.

[cutlery]

[ There's that concern again... It's such a strange thing to feel that Sebastian almost laughs, but it's absolutely released at the teasing. Technically, he takes on many bodies, since he caters each to the contract that summons him, but... This is something of his preferred one, to be fair. ]

Well, I hope you do not think me to be too much of a cad, but that is admittedly something of the point...

[ He's of course teasing in return with the quaint self-deprecation. And having scrubbed himself clean, he can't help but tease a little more by having his motion match the conversation, somewhat.

With his hands still lathered up, he sets the soap aside, but puts his hands on Matt's back to wash it. He'd also be completely fair in thinking that Sebastian was lying at not having received a massage before, considering his own hands are deft with a similar motion, but. No, it's just an advantage of truly perfect memory. He's seen them before, and that's all he needs. ]

Plenty have wanted to, I imagine. But insisting? That is so very improper... [ His tone is light, clearly teasing at the repression humans feel without saying it directly. It was especially notable in 1889, true, but it was hardly a new phenomenon. ] So... Thank you for being terribly improper, hm?

[semicharmed]

[ Matt laughs, his bright surprise somewhat muted by growing tiredness. ]

I wouldn't say "cad," [ he protests. ] I'd never say cad. Maybe rake, or gallant, or maybe ... mm. [ He hums at Sebastian's touch, back arching pleasantly under his hands. Maybe it's the word "improper" combined with the path of Sebastian's hands, but Matt's never felt so aware of the Stargazer tattoo across his lower back. He breathes out a long sigh, in time with Sebastian's traveling touch. ] Maybe "man about town."

[ He smiles, his lashes dipping. Matt's a little worried that he'll nod right off the moment he lets his eyes close, but that wouldn't necessarily be such a bad thing. He's confident Sebastian would catch him before his head hit the tile. ] But you're welcome. Anytime you need my twenty-first century mores, just say the word. I'm here to scandalize.

[ Truthfully, Matt doesn't get much out of purposefully scandalizing other people. Mostly it makes him feel terrified and embarrassed. But when it's behind closed doors, and between adults who can be trusted to be discreet ... well, what good has society ever done any of them? What allegiance do they owe to the way things are done? ]

[cutlery]

Ah, and all guilty as charged, I fear.

[ His response is playful with just a little bit of a laugh in his tone. He’s been called all of those and more, and, well. Deservedly so, honestly… But those dalliances are neither here nor there. With the lather of soap of his hands, he grabs the shampoo next. ]

Well, at least Kenos is a bit more libertine. Just that you would be staying here would be bad enough elsewhere, but I imagine it will draw little notice.

[ Where the movement of his hands on Matt’s back had been nice, the way his fingers work through his hair is indeed much better. He hadn’t been exaggerating about the scalp massage at all, since it’s a soothing pressure without seeing to tug at a single strand of hair at all. This is a detail that is in fact solely thanks to Ciel, because other than just giving Sebastian a hard time at every turn for the sake of it (/because he hated him), he was also very tender-headed. So. Thanks, Ciel. ]

—Ah, and you may stay as long as you would like, to be clear. It is no imposition at all. I rather enjoy looking after people, odd as that may be.

[semicharmed]

Oh, [ Matt says, a soft and involuntary exclamation. He knew he'd like this: He's always liked playing with people's hair and having his own played with, and of course, he adores touch in general. But Sebastian's hands are magical. Matt's breath out has layers to it, following the pressure of Sebastian's fingers: deepening to hmms when they press harder, feathering to air when their touch lightens. ]

I appreciate that. [ Matt's murmur is almost swallowed up in the shower's pattering spray. ] Seriously. I ...

[ It's been hard to feel like he has anywhere to go. Exploring Highstorm and Springstar had been occupying him, but all of a sudden, that possibility has disintegrated--at least, the possibility that existed before Amos killed Cyrus. Before Springstar was attacked. He couldn't stay with Amos anymore; in some ways, it would've been easier if he'd harmonized to Meridian. He could feel righteous, beleaguered. He'd be correct to. People like Set and D and Liem would approve of him.

He just couldn't make it feel right. ]

I think it could be nice. To be looked after for a little while. [ Another pleased hum. Lighter, Matt says, ] Especially if you keep doing it like this.

[cutlery]

[ Matt’s enjoyment prompts a response that’s quickly becoming familiar at this point. It’s that same warm little blossom of satisfaction, since it’s wonderful praise. There’s probably part of Sebastian’s fondness for Matt that’s based in his willingness to give it so freely… Sure, he might be a very scary, very dangerous demon from actual, literal Hell, but.

He likes to do a good job and be acknowledged for it. So. ]

Then, please.

[ His voice is soothing and gentle, just like the calm of his Communion. It’s well accentuated by the movement of his hands and the soothing circles he rubs into the tenser muscles of Matt’s neck with his thumbs. ]

It seems you are in well need of some relaxation, so allow me to pamper you.

[ which you know doesn’t work out with everything going to shit while they take a nap but WHATEVER!! ]