[ Tezcatlipoca loved civilization, but half of his heart would always belong to nature too. He’s a contradictory sort of deity that way, seemingly fickle and full of conflicting desires. But at least his chosen faction provides for him better than the opposite might. He can laze around in Highstorm, but he just as much loves the (mostly) untamed wilderness of the Beyond. There’s danger out here, true… But how much of a threat does it really pose to Yoalli Ehécat, the night wind, the Lord of jaguars?
So, he stalks those forests not infrequently. With the same sort of skill that his nahual had, he could move through the woods silently. Sometimes, he’d find a beast and slay it just for the thrill of it. Other times, he might just laze about in a tree. But he has noticed that he’s not alone out here. He’s seen signs of Shard-Bearers eking out a harsher living than they have to. And maybe they’ve seen signs of him. A slightly strangely shaped, humanoid figure in the dark, a barbed tail that whips out of view, dark smoke that appears and disappears rapidly…
At first, he’s just curious to see who else is finding home in these dark woods, but once he catches enough of a glimpse. Well! With (slightly sadistic) cheer, he decides that he has to say hello to the “neighbors”. It’s only hospitable of him (it is not). So, once their camp is made, it’s a quiet night in the woods. And, sure, Tezcatlipoa could come say hello like a normal person. But why would he do that?
There might be a feeling of the hair raising on the back of the neck—the sort of instinctual feeling of knowing that a predator is somewhere out in the dark. But he ends up being much closer than expected. There’s a rustle in the boughs of the trees above, but that’s the only prelude before a masked man in strange looking armor leaps down and lands heavily across the fire. The tail waves (friendly, but cautious!), and from behind that mask, the greeting is… Not fitting at all. ]
[ The Beyond is more peaceful than one might think. The locals trade stories of all the dangers present beyond the city's boundaries, and to be fair, those stories are largely true. But it's only dangerous for those people who don't know how to address said danger, how to live with it and among it. Link has been living in this area of the Beyond, just south of the Manor, for two months, and he spent an entire month trekking through the more remote, hostile forests in the north. If anyone knows how to make a life for himself out here, it's Link.
Part of living in the Beyond means staying prepared for a clash with the dangerous wildlife at any moment. He does not hear or see Tezcatlipoca in the nights leading up to his final appearance, the night god being too skilled at keeping silent and hidden. But when he finally leaps into the light of Link's campfire and shows himself, he'll find Link crouching behind the makeshift fortifications of his camp, with an arrow notched in his bow, drawn and aimed at him. ]
Get back!
[ He doesn't recognize Tezca — not just because they've only spoken over Communion, but because he looks nothing like the vague visual impression that he picked up while talking to him. And he's not about to let his guard down. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca makes an impressed noise at Link’s reflexes, and that dangerous looking tail continues to sway with interest. His sense for it is duller here in Kenos than it would be normally, but he’d picked up on it just a little bit in Communion… It’s so faint that he could have been incorrect about it, so it’s nice to have the confirmation that this guy is indeed a warrior. A soul directly under his domain. ]
Nice. Your instincts might not be sharp, but the reflexes make up for ‘em.
[ He tilts his head slightly as he stands up straight from essentially all fours, but the effect is eerie with the odd looking mask. Truthfully, he’s looking at the bow and arrow appraisingly. He’s interested in all kinds of weapons, even if he favors the ones of the modern day. ]
[ He grins a bit behind the mask, since he’s definitely tempted to rush Link just to see how he’ll handle it. It’d be a fitting first trial for a warrior that’s decided to do things the hard way and shun the comforts of the nearby city. His tail whips a bit in response to his feelings, but… That’s not why he’s here. He’ll definitely have to give the guy that Trial eventually. But even he knows there’s a time and a place, and time isn’t exactly something he’s lacking in anymore.
So, with a laugh, he reaches up and removes the mask. At least with that, he’s unmistakable. Though it is worth noting that without the sunglasses that he’d been wearing (even in Communion, yes…), it reveals just how inhumanly blue and pale his eyes are. ]
You’re lucky I’m here for a reason, otherwise I’d be putting you through the wringer.
[ One might say that he's in his element, in the dark of the Beyond. Highstorm was a city of night, and even though he loved the light — it was the moonlit island that he'd chosen. He carries no light with him, not a torch or a scrap of luminescent stone or moss found in the depths of the forest; there's no need to, with eyes like his. Faintly, they shine — catching the starlight above and reflecting like bright coins in the dark, but it's his ears that pick up the creak of weight above him first. The twitch of one sensitive point aiming the dish in Tezcatlipoca's direction before he dips down from the trees.
Only then does he turn, to look upon the masked figure — and fix the pale white-violet of his eyes on him. ]
No, not alone. I'm never alone.
[ From another tree, a low growl issues. Atop a branch, the dark and sleek form of a panther crouches; her own bright eyes fixed upon Tezcatlipoca as Drizzt steps towards her perch, positioning himself with his most loyal friend at his back and above him. Weirdly, he could say that he acknowledges the body language of the figure before him. A crouching feline, ready to pounce, but whether it is in play or predation will not be known until the moment he makes contact. ]
— I know your voice. We met a while ago, didn't we. Didn't we, Tezcatlipoca?
[ Tezcatlipoca hadn’t exactly missed Guen. It’d be nearly impossible for him to, since honestly, her soul is closer to his dominion than any mortal’s here. However, he’d been curious to see why she was here. He gets his answer easily, and behind the mask, he smiles, pleased. ]
Interesting match-up. You must be a hell of a forescout to get her to work with you.
[ So, it’s a bit of an acknowledgement to the question as he uses the specific word Drizzt had. And indeed, he’s rather impressed, so far as impressions go. His nahual were prideful loners. He’d never known one in his lands to do anything but tolerate the humans (or similar enough, in this case) they lived nearby at best. For Drizzt to have one as a loyal partner… Well, there’s a story there, at the very least.
That said. If Drizzt hadn’t identified him, he would have pounced just for the fun of it. Wrestling with an ocelotl is always a good time (by his measure). But, since he has— ]
Yeah, it’s been a bit, Drizzt.
[ He uses his name as the tiniest bit of acknowledgement, but it won’t last. He’ll find a nickname for him soon enough. Tezcatlipoca reaches up and removes the mask, but once it’s in his hand, it evaporates into dim orbs of golden light. It’s a purely magical construct that he has no need to cry when he can just summon it back at a whim.
His impression is definitely different when he's donned his armor as well. There's the obvious, that he's more feline in his mannerisms and he's definitely more of a fighter than he'd let on in that conversation. But there's the more subtle, implicit way he carries himself too. He's closer to his divinity this way than when he's wearing modern clothes. ]
Blame Kenos for dickin’ me around. Kept tryin’ to bring me back, but didn’t stick until after all the fun recently.
[ It’s not like he hadn’t had a good time galivanting across the worlds. He’d seen the sights, tried the pleasures, and most importantly, had chased Set through each and every one of them. He’d quickly found that the Shimmer he’d just taken (that Tezcatlipoca had planned to take too, dammit!) wasn’t wearing off, so…
…He wouldn’t call it a sense of responsibility, exactly. But he’d wanted to see what the war god of Egypt could really do.
But when he wakes, Tezcatlipoca can immediately feel the difference. It’s not that the air is different or that he immediately feels the slide of long hair against his back as he shifts. He simply feels the adulation. It may not empower him in the way it might have elsewhere, but it’s powerful all the same. As he looks at the gasping worshipper whose hands fly to her mouth as she looks between the waking gods, he feels like he could reach out and grasp it. It feels good, honestly.
But, there’s that whole other problem of, you know. Set.
The two of them pretty much immediately get into a (stupid) punching fight about who’s pulling whose hair, and the fact that Set is coming down off a two-week bender isn’t helping matters. It takes a good while for them to just tussle it out to the adoration of their on-lookers, but eventually, they stop biting, throwing punches, and pulling hair. It’s enough for Tezcatlipoca to step out onto the stoop of their little shrine and see where they are. At the very least, Kowloon hasn’t changed all that much during the Repose.
So, naturally, Tezcatlipoca reaches out to the first person he thinks of that can solve their problem. It’s a job that’s going to be half-hairdresser, half-referee, probably, but, hey. Matt’s totally got it. This is what Tezcatlipoca demands rather than assumes, anyways. It only takes a brief Communion to set Matt along his way down to Kowloon, and at the very least, Tezcatlipoca is waiting for him at the door.
He already looks like a hot mess, too. His hair is longer than he is tall at this point, he has some wounds that are only just stopping in their bleeding, and, of course, he’s smoking. He’ll deal with being hungry as fuck later. Right now, he hasn’t had nicotine in over a century, so he needs that more, thank you. ]
Yo. ‘Bout time. [ Ungrateful! But at least to be (very slightly) fair, he doesn’t know about any extra difficulties that it might have taken to get down here. ] Set’s here too, by the way. Ignore him.
[ Matt has barely had time to figure out what year it is (answer: yikes!) when he gets the Communion from Tezcatlipoca. He's glad to hear from him, honestly--he's glad to hear from any Shard-Bearer after the trial. After the horrible vision of Cyrus, puppeted by something whose shadowy filaments extended into infinite black. And his dreams of being betrayed, sacrificed maybe; filled with agonizing potential like a circuit being fried for a thousand years.
All things considered, he'd really like something to do with his hands right now.
So, after a rather more harrowing journey than he was expecting, due to pronounced changes in the geography, Matt finds the right building and knocks on the right door. He looks much the same as he did before he fell asleep. His own hair is decidedly tousled, but that's nothing new. ]
Springstar's gone a little topsy-turvy in the interim, [ he says dryly. ] They've taken their commitment to upzoning to a whole new level, you could say. [ boo you whore!!! Matt gets serious as he looks Tezcatlipoca over, at least. The sight of blood makes him frown. ] Are you okay? I know a healing spell that's nice and quick, it just isn't very powerful.
[ From the depths of the Resting Room: ] Good for them. Ambitious little things.
[ Damn, he can't wait to go talk to Natalia and figure out what's been going on all that time. He's never had to build a tactical plan for a city in the sky, but the fact that there's still warfare to experience and manifest as delights him to no end.
In the depths of the Resting Room, Set lounges. Bloodied around the nose and sporting a few choice bite marks, he looks ambivalent to the damage as he sprawls across the edge of his little bed and sorts through the variety of leavings. It seems a compulsion for him, to pick each one up and examine it, expression somewhere between bristling confusion and some deeper, longing thing.
Like Tezca, his hair is EVERYWHERE. The worst part is that the far ends are actually braided up into the blond strands of the other god's, and with all their scuffling, that braid is now an unseemly Gordion knot. It took a lot of convincing from Tezca for Set not to just lop off the whole length, and instead use it as an opportunity to be pampered. ]
— and fxck you, Tezcatlipoca. Do not listen to him, Ma'tt. [ He half-snarls it, draped indulgently as he is; all thigh and bare chest, scowling at them both. ] Congratulations on your victory, by the by.
[ If you’re in Alenroux for the evening, you’ll find Tezcatlipoca there today, and it’s in fact difficult to miss him. He’s very enthusiastically talking to one of the expeditions that’s about to take to the woods for the night, because they have one of his favorite things in the world at their side: guns. Sure, those ATVs are pretty cool too, but this is by far his favorite development in his time resting. He has a bias and a particular interest in them.
He’s inspecting a rifle with a grin, checking and clearing the chamber with practiced ease. It may still be a bit old-fashioned compared to the wars that Koyanskaya had brought, but honestly? Fine with him. These are still perfectly serviceable and perfectly suited to the job at hand.
Which is why he tosses you a grin. Whether he knows you or not, doesn’t matter. Whether he knows you’re a Shard-Bearer or not, also doesn’t matter. He gives a nod to one of those steampunk styled ATVs. ]
Say, you think you could drive one of these? They say I can borrow one of these for the night if we’re huntin’.
[ author’s note: this will turn into something stupid, because Tezcatlipoca cannot aim for shit ]
HIGHSTORM—hunting the dark
[ He loved the conflict between Meridian and Zenith. He adores that it’s gotten more contentious while they all slept even more! There are so many seeds of war that he can push and help them bloom into something bloody and beautiful, and he fully plans to. This is all set up for a proper war, by his measure, and he’ll be satisfied to see bodies in the streets eventually, he’s sure.
However. There’s a side issue that Tezcatlipoca is concerned with.
In the deepest part of Highstorm’s eternal twilight, what could be called its equivalent of midnight, Tezcatlipoca takes to the city instead. He’s searching for something, and he imagines it’s more likely to appear when and where it’s darkest. It just suits something that would call itself Oblivion, right? So, he skulks in the shadows himself, sometimes in the narrow alleys, sometimes on top of buildings, but largely staying away from other people as he searches. So, it’s really just chance that leads to the encounter.
It might be a sensation like hair standing up on the back of your neck, the sort of reflexive feeling of knowing a predator is watching. But that’s about all of the warning that appears before there’s a blur of black that lands heavily behind you, having leapt down from some unseen perch. It’s followed by a crack, and by the time you turn, you see a man crouched on all fours, and his strange, sharp tail is embedded deep into the cobblestones below like it had just tried to pin something in place.
He stands up straight from his crouched position, and it shows the strange armor he wears better. The even stranger tail lashes back and forth like an irritated cat’s. ]
Fuckers are fast… [ Did you even see the darkness he’d tried to catch? He sure doesn’t explain if not, since he clicks his tongue and shrugs. ] Wasn’t the point, but you’re welcome. Looks like it was tryin’ to make a meal out of you next.
[ OOC ; As a side-note, this prompt has a chance of spoilers from Tezcatlipoca’s canon coming up! So, if you haven’t already, head on over to this post to let me know if you’re okay with them! ]
SKYSONG—incognito (?)
[ Have you ever tried to tell a cat to stay out of somewhere? This is basically a case of that.
The first time Tezcatlipoca had tried to head into Skysong, he’d been turned away. He may be a relatively new Zenite (well, “new”), but he’s still a notable one. After all, he’s spent the past century or so braided up with Meridian’s war god, and he said to be Zenith’s equivalent. He’d argue the finer points of it, but honestly, he knows Meri won’t care to listen. That’s not so much the problem as it is the Zenith part.
So. It just takes a different strategy.
The streets of Psychagogia are a bustling, energetic place, but even so, it’s easy to pick someone out in the crowd. Long, brilliant red hair stands out easily, as does the penchant for baring skin and adorning it with jewelry more than clothing. And of course Set would be here so soon after waking—there’s so much to see and do! Bars, the coliseum, brothels, all of those new, interesting establishments and old haunts are given equal exploration and interest. Set is welcomed into all of them, since he’s a beloved hero of Meridian!
…Of course, the people here haven’t actually seen him all that recently, and especially not the one thing that marks this impostor—his brilliant, pale blue eyes. Though other than that? They really do look remarkably similar.
He may not be causing trouble (he in fact seems to be happily enjoying himself), but maybe it’s worth pulling him aside…? Or, if you’re feeling really spicy, just confronting him outright. ]
[Alice is always keen to help wherever she can. Helping is how she's been grounding herself and finding her place in Kenos thus far. So it's little wonder she's here in Alenroux tonight, that big Mahne double-ended sword of hers by her side.
Her hair is far longer than the last time she spoke to him but Alice is very recognizably Alice all the same. The look she gives the ATV speaks of recognition, if not for the vehicle itself then for the fact it is a vehicle.]
I've driven jeeps and motorcycles before. I can probably figure this out as well.
[She's less a driver than a rider typically but she has faith in herself.]
Yeah, no problem, then! I mean, shit, combine the two, and this is basically that, right?
[ …It’s a stretch, but sure. It doesn’t actually matter to him, since he’s just thrilled to have found a driver, so his grip on his rifle gets a little tighter. He is not giving it back now. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just gotten his volunteer. ]
So, whaddya say? Go monster huntin’ for the night? I’ll even be generous and put aside our whole sworn enemies deal for the night.
[ There’s a tone in “sworn enemies” that makes it sound like he’s making a joke about the conflict at least rather than something he seriously feels. However, how accurate that is to reality, well… Best not to think too hard about it. ]
[ Amos had actually been thinking about heading back to Highstorm for the night. Not because he's afraid of the monsters or anything — fear is not exactly in his vocabulary — but because when he comes to Alenroux it's to chat with farmers, help them out a little, learn a bit about what it's like to till the land. Both because they'll need it in the new world, and he kinda wants to get a source of barley set up. Wheat. Some good grains for personal use that might not be feasible in Greenwood Yards.
But Smoky's shooting him a grin, and — oh, yeah. They'd talked about guns before, hadn't they? And he definitely doesn't care about hunting, has better things to focus on shooting (no he does not. It is not Oracle time), but getting to drive an ATV around... backroading... almost feels like something he'd have liked to have done in Baltimore, somewhere... This time not in the middle of a nuclear winter... ]
Yeah, fuck it, I've done a bit of riding before. Could be fun. [ Amos gives him a slight nod, bright voice signalling his interest even as his expression remains relatively blank. That'll change once he's actually behind the wheel of one of these things, but right now it's just a hypothetical, so... a slowly budding excitement. ] They got a quota or something we need to reach for 'em?
[ He’d definitely shot Amos the grin because he knew this guy would agree. He’s a pretty even-tempered guy, sure, but that’s really only a plus in Tezcatlipoca’s book. If he’s as flashy of a driver as Daybit is, then it’ll be a fun night. ]
Nah, not exactly, but they got a lil’ competition goin’ on! Whoever bags the most gets a payout. Ain’t a whole lot, but, hell, extra incentive, yeah? We win and we’ll split the winnings too.
[ Tezcatlipoca sounds confident, even! This is unwarranted! ]
So, if you’re down to drive, let’s do it. It’ll be a lot of fuckin’ fun!
[Liem is still coming to terms with his first impression of Skysong, and as he wanders the floating city, he is discovering that he—
Hates it. He thinks he hates it, actually. He hates the smell of the strange new vehicles growling over the cobbles, he hates the way zealotry and xenophobia have put down roots where previously people had been curious and friendly, and most of all, he hates that the whole place is hanging hundreds of metres up in the air, the immense weight of it poised to plummet at any moment and shatter against the cratered landscape far below.
After his recent visit to Oppara, he cannot help but think wistfully of those familiar streets. Springstar had begun to feel like home to him; now he feels uprooted again, in more ways than one.
Liem has been trapped in Psychagogia for longer than he’d intended to be, at the mercy of the islands’ scheduled intersections, given that he steadfastly refuses to set foot on any of the flimsy-looking fliers buzzing between the different districts. His mood has soured over the past hour or so, helped not at all by the constant nagging anxiety that’s been bothering him since the first moment he glanced past the edge of one of the islands and realized how far they were from the ground. Given the circumstances, he would dearly love to see a friendly face.
Which is why, when he ducks into a tavern near the island’s edge to wait for the next scheduled crossing, he gravitates immediately towards the familiar-looking redhead lounging across the taproom, surrounded by excited chatter of “Set” and “the wakened war god”.
It is also why, when he gets closer and sees the man’s face, bewilderment stops him short, followed swiftly by a look of almost offended incredulity.]
[ At the very least, Tezcatlipoca hasn’t been taking advantage of his disguise. He knows better than to push his luck that way. As soon as he gets a little too much attention, he excuses himself, and it’s onto a different place.
And honestly, this place is getting close to a little too much attention. He expects it, of course, since Set is important and more established in Kenos than he is. But still, after the third or fourth place? He’ll have to give Set a hard time about it later.
He has an easy smile in place by the time Liem approaches, having shooed off another admirer. He has a drink in one hand, and he casts Liem a glance as he approaches. He doesn’t recognize him, since he may know who Liem is, but he hadn’t been shown what he looks like… And so, his smile becomes a little grin when he’s accused. ]
What? Don’t recognize a god in the flesh?
[ …Technically, it’s true, even with his playful deception. Yet even with that mischievous air, his gaze is sharp as he looks at Liem and appraises him… Then gestures to the free seat. He’s the first person he’s offered it to, actually. ]
Just doin’ some tourism. Shit’s changed, yeah? Worth seein’ everything, in that case.
[ He doesn’t bother trying to emulate Set’s mannerisms at all, because there’s no need. He thinks he’s already been caught, for one, but it’s not like most people know Set all that well. It’s how other incorrect details must stand out to Liem too—the painted nails, the clinging scent of cigarettes and copal, and even the fact that his build is a just a touch slighter than Set’s. ]
[ Highstorm has changed so much since the Repose, but surely everyone agree that the biggest transformation came with the flooding. Almost half of the city is partially submerged in water — but not just any water. No, this is the mysterious water of the Reflecting Pools, which Link had been warned about on his very first day in Kenos, when he found himself getting lost in the images flickering on its surface. Back then, he was told that it would swallow anyone unlucky enough to fall inside... and it seems that it's just as dangerous now, with the pool covering half of the city's streets.
Well... just as dangerous for the average person, at least. Which Link is not.
He waited until the middle of the night to explore. His footsteps walk across the surface of the pools as if it were made of cement, as a clumsily-cast Walk on Water spell keeps him from plunging into the nothingness. He hasn't used this spell much, as he'd only just learned it before the Advocate Oracle happened... but there's a thrill to be found in this dangerous experimentation, too. It's exhilarating, to step off the narrow sidewalk lining the doorways and out onto the surface of the floodwaters, with only the magic keeping him from certain death. Is that what it is? Being that close to death makes him feel so alive. Like diving from the highest sky island he could reach, or staring down a Gloom-infested silver Lynel...
Maybe it's because he's so preoccupied with the danger of the water that he doesn't even sense the encroaching Oblivion. Nor does he hear the dark figure drop hard onto the raised sidewalk behind him with a sickening cracking noise, like the snapping of bones — ]
T-Tezcatlipoca?
[ His heart feels like it's about to jump into his throat. Not just from the startle of being snuck-upon, but from the way he stumbled slightly as he spun around. Losing his footing would be very bad. He gingerly steps off the water and back onto the sidewalk. ]
Was — was it one of those shadows? [ Link looks around the dark street, but of course, he doesn't see anything. But he's spotted them himself before. They are fast. ]
[ Normally, Tezcatlipoca doesn’t help people, not directly like this anyways, but he can make an exception for the strange waters. He grabs Link’s wrist as he stumbles and pulls him forward onto the sidewalk in tandem with Link stepping there himself. It’s at least a chance to also see how his odd armor works, in a way, since the claws on the “fists” retract when he pulls him forward. ]
Yeah, it was. I’m tryin’ to hunt one of down, considerin’ they should at least partially be in my domain.
[ He clicks his tongue as he releases Link’s hand, then looks around with irritation, though his eyes settle on the water. ]
No luck yet, though. Wanna slice one open if I can.
[ At the moment of that crack in the cobblestones, something else happens--a few somethings in rapid succession, actually:
A column of orange flame lights up the alleyway, revealing Matt. He's wearing his usual clothes, and appears totally unarmed apart from a large leather pouch and a handful of dandelions.
The scent of burning plants fills the air.
And a filigree of golden light, its strands interwoven like a net, comes down over ... Tezcatlipoca. The light's touch doesn't hurt. Its ribbons whisper stay, stay, but even that may not feel compelling to the god. After all, he's not the intended target.
Matt blinks in surprise. ]
Tez--?
[ He breathes a laugh, fond but a little frustrated. As quickly as it had appeared, the net melts away. ]
I know, [ he agrees, dragging a hand through his hair. ] That was kind of the point. But ah--thank you.
[ Tezcatlipoca’s posture is absolutely that of a predator ready to pounce rather than flee. His pupils dilate, and he bares his teeth in a grin. Honestly, this is a bit of a surprise from Matt, but he’s acutely delighted by it. He’s got some fight in him after all.
…Granted, it’s not entirely the sort he’d like to see. The ribbons of light descend on him as gentle encouragement rather than the kind of burning fire he’d “like”. That’s what gets him to laugh, and he reaches up towards the ribbons to try and touch them curiously just as they start to melt away. Too bad. Considering his dominion over magic, he’d like to get a better feel for them. ]
Oh, yeah? You out huntin’ too?
[ The swishing of his tail calms, but it doesn’t stop completely as he steps closer to Matt. When he steps closer, there’s also a sensation of thrumming magic, whatever that might feel like to Matt in particular. He’d mentioned conserving energy with his usual look, and it’s clearer what that means now, since this armor seems to slough it off casually. It’s also a slice of divinity along with it, since this is the appearance of the king of jaguars. ]
Haven’t had any luck pinning one down yet. Should, since they should also belong to me.
[ Honestly, Matt probably wasn’t prepared for what inviting Tezcatlipoca in as a housemate meant, practically speaking.
He wasn’t a bad housemate, exactly. He cleans, he cooks pretty decently, and he’s friendly and easy-going as ever, like they’ve always lived together. However… He did have a habit of disappearing for days at a time, too. He was always reachable through Communion, and it was never something he kept all that secret if asked. Sometimes he was out “hunting” in the Beyond or Alenroux, others, he would respond blearily that he was down in his Kowloon apartment after a Night™️, but there was also a guarantee with either case.
He'd amble his way back home (though he never called it that) and have some blood on him. It was better when he was coming from Kowloon, of course, since he had the shower to get rid of the worst of it… But he was a god of conflict, so he drank up violence just as much as he did their gentler conversations about the finer points of magecraft or Nahuatl poetry.
So, you know. In a sense, he is just continuing to uphold his standard as a Cat Of A Man. At least he’s not bringing Matt home any presents.
…Until today, anyways.
Tezcatlipoca has been away for two days at this point, so the key unlocking the door is a little bit of a surprise in just how sudden it is. But he’s barely even opened the door before he’s excitedly calling out inside. ]
Yo, roomie! [ oh and there’s a new nickname ] Got a present for ya!
[ Maybe this says something unworthy about Matt. But Tezcatlipoca is a better roommate than he expected he'd be.
He cooks. He cleans??? He's gone a lot of the time, but Matt is too, on his various excursions. To Alenroux, working on Ruby's monster sanctuary; to Old Springstar, to engage in various geek social fallacies; to Draumahol once a week. To say nothing of his explorations around Highstorm, from chasing shadows to tending a plot in Greenwood to attending the odd astronomy-based local ritual. He rarely says where he's going or how long he'll be there, and he doesn't expect it of Tezcatlipoca.
Though he does fret a little over the blood.
Matt's home when Tezcatlipoca returns, as it happens. He's in the dining room, considering the feasibility of converting it to the Lodge component of the Abramelin Operation. It doesn't face onto an open terrace, but nothing in this house has a terrace. What are the mystical qualities of a terrace, exactly ...?
He leans out of the doorway and into the hall. ]
A present? [ His eyebrows arch. ] How'd you know it was my birthday?
[ And what a sight Tezcatlipoca is today. Blood may be a frequent part of his return, but there’s decidedly more of it today. There are stains on his white shirt, so presumably it’s on his jacket and pants as well. At least the rainy weather from the morning had washed the worst of it off his boots, but he plops down near the door to start taking them off anyways.
However, Matt might be more drawn to the injuries that Tezcatlipoca has. There’s a dramatic looking gash on his brow, and a dried, but still large track of blood out of a nostril and down to his chin. It looks like he also wiped it at some point. However, he does not seem bothered by this even a little bit. ]
Ha, no, Flat already tried to pull the birthday credits grift. Besides, if it were your birthday, I’d be givin’ ya chocolate.
[ …Is that serious? As is often the case, it’s hard to tell. He just unlaces his boots quickly as he sets a nondescript bag down next to him. Whatever is in it makes a sturdy sound of something decently heavy. ]
House calls land in the fun position for her of simultaneously feeling novel and not. When most came to or stayed within the medical department when they had need of Gavial or her colleagues, there was little travel to be had on the landship itself back home. Occasionally a particularly stubborn operator might require a visit right to their dorm room (a duty which often fell to Gavial thanks to her ability to quite literally strong-arm patients into compliance), but most of her traveling to see the sick or injured herself tended to be out on the field.
It’s an altogether different vibe to be moving through quiet streets at night for a visit. The path by now is one that’s altogether easy and familiar for her to traverse; once she checked her supplies and shouldered her bag, it feels like no time at all before she’s once again arriving at once-Sebastian’s-now-Matt’s house. She avails herself of the spare key as Matt had requested, slipping it into a pocket as she herself slips inside the building.
The quiet that greets her initially is one that she choses to take as a good sign—the two of them had best be getting some rest like she’d ordered. The stroll through the house is as familiar as the route to get there had been, her eyes peeled for any sign of them before she winds her way over to Matt’s room.
She doesn’t bother to knock before she pushes open the door, but she at least doesn’t raise her voice too much as she speaks out.]
[ Comfortable as it is, Tezcatlipoca has resisted two urges here. The first one is simply just staying awake to wait for Gavial, but with a good buzz and Matt having already deeply dozed off, it’s tempting to do the same. And on the other, well. He wants to smoke, but that’s a pretty much constant urge. He’ll at least wait until she’s gone for that.
He sits up a little with a grunt as the door starts to open, but it turns into a soft laugh at how she announces herself. ]
Yeah, haven’t kicked the bucket yet.
[ But the bruise on his side looks less than pleasant at this point, hence why he shifts carefully. ]
[The initial response prompts a grin from her as she steps into the room, gaze lingering on the sleeping Matt for just a moment with a look of approval—good boy, resting—before her attention fully settles on Tezcatlipoca.]
I feel like if there is a good choice for a stunt like that, picking the one you got a spare of was probably the right move.
[Good job? Not that she sounds entirely approving, but it’s impressive he’s handling it well enough to be up and chatty. Guess gods really are made of sterner stuff.
She slips her bag from her shoulder to settle it atop the dresser, though there’s a pause that follows as her attention on him takes more of an assessing turn.]
Figure that’s gotta hurt like hell, huh?
[Might explain what he’s still doing awake, despite the cozy circumstances.]
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» link (but also drizzt can reply because it's the same, help,) ; [POUNCES]
So, he stalks those forests not infrequently. With the same sort of skill that his nahual had, he could move through the woods silently. Sometimes, he’d find a beast and slay it just for the thrill of it. Other times, he might just laze about in a tree. But he has noticed that he’s not alone out here. He’s seen signs of Shard-Bearers eking out a harsher living than they have to. And maybe they’ve seen signs of him. A slightly strangely shaped, humanoid figure in the dark, a barbed tail that whips out of view, dark smoke that appears and disappears rapidly…
Yeah, he’s a fucking cryptid.
At first, he’s just curious to see who else is finding home in these dark woods, but once he catches enough of a glimpse. Well! With (slightly sadistic) cheer, he decides that he has to say hello to the “neighbors”. It’s only hospitable of him (it is not). So, once their camp is made, it’s a quiet night in the woods. And, sure, Tezcatlipoa could come say hello like a normal person. But why would he do that?
There might be a feeling of the hair raising on the back of the neck—the sort of instinctual feeling of knowing that a predator is somewhere out in the dark. But he ends up being much closer than expected. There’s a rustle in the boughs of the trees above, but that’s the only prelude before a masked man in strange looking armor leaps down and lands heavily across the fire. The tail waves (friendly, but cautious!), and from behind that mask, the greeting is… Not fitting at all. ]
Yo. Out here all by yourself?
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Part of living in the Beyond means staying prepared for a clash with the dangerous wildlife at any moment. He does not hear or see Tezcatlipoca in the nights leading up to his final appearance, the night god being too skilled at keeping silent and hidden. But when he finally leaps into the light of Link's campfire and shows himself, he'll find Link crouching behind the makeshift fortifications of his camp, with an arrow notched in his bow, drawn and aimed at him. ]
Get back!
[ He doesn't recognize Tezca — not just because they've only spoken over Communion, but because he looks nothing like the vague visual impression that he picked up while talking to him. And he's not about to let his guard down. ]
Who are you?!
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Nice. Your instincts might not be sharp, but the reflexes make up for ‘em.
[ He tilts his head slightly as he stands up straight from essentially all fours, but the effect is eerie with the odd looking mask. Truthfully, he’s looking at the bow and arrow appraisingly. He’s interested in all kinds of weapons, even if he favors the ones of the modern day. ]
You got some serious intent there. Better make it count.
[ He grins a bit behind the mask, since he’s definitely tempted to rush Link just to see how he’ll handle it. It’d be a fitting first trial for a warrior that’s decided to do things the hard way and shun the comforts of the nearby city. His tail whips a bit in response to his feelings, but… That’s not why he’s here. He’ll definitely have to give the guy that Trial eventually. But even he knows there’s a time and a place, and time isn’t exactly something he’s lacking in anymore.
So, with a laugh, he reaches up and removes the mask. At least with that, he’s unmistakable. Though it is worth noting that without the sunglasses that he’d been wearing (even in Communion, yes…), it reveals just how inhumanly blue and pale his eyes are. ]
You’re lucky I’m here for a reason, otherwise I’d be putting you through the wringer.
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there's no gif but this is like a magical transformation in reverse ftr
https://youtu.be/biNJu5vaA18?si=aD0vt8N4QSs6QgCQ
HELP / thank you for this
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Only then does he turn, to look upon the masked figure — and fix the pale white-violet of his eyes on him. ]
No, not alone. I'm never alone.
[ From another tree, a low growl issues. Atop a branch, the dark and sleek form of a panther crouches; her own bright eyes fixed upon Tezcatlipoca as Drizzt steps towards her perch, positioning himself with his most loyal friend at his back and above him. Weirdly, he could say that he acknowledges the body language of the figure before him. A crouching feline, ready to pounce, but whether it is in play or predation will not be known until the moment he makes contact. ]
— I know your voice. We met a while ago, didn't we. Didn't we, Tezcatlipoca?
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Interesting match-up. You must be a hell of a forescout to get her to work with you.
[ So, it’s a bit of an acknowledgement to the question as he uses the specific word Drizzt had. And indeed, he’s rather impressed, so far as impressions go. His nahual were prideful loners. He’d never known one in his lands to do anything but tolerate the humans (or similar enough, in this case) they lived nearby at best. For Drizzt to have one as a loyal partner… Well, there’s a story there, at the very least.
That said. If Drizzt hadn’t identified him, he would have pounced just for the fun of it. Wrestling with an ocelotl is always a good time (by his measure). But, since he has— ]
Yeah, it’s been a bit, Drizzt.
[ He uses his name as the tiniest bit of acknowledgement, but it won’t last. He’ll find a nickname for him soon enough. Tezcatlipoca reaches up and removes the mask, but once it’s in his hand, it evaporates into dim orbs of golden light. It’s a purely magical construct that he has no need to cry when he can just summon it back at a whim.
His impression is definitely different when he's donned his armor as well. There's the obvious, that he's more feline in his mannerisms and he's definitely more of a fighter than he'd let on in that conversation. But there's the more subtle, implicit way he carries himself too. He's closer to his divinity this way than when he's wearing modern clothes. ]
Blame Kenos for dickin’ me around. Kept tryin’ to bring me back, but didn’t stick until after all the fun recently.
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warning for mild lb7 spoilers
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» matt & set ; don't negotiate with terrorists (gods)
…He wouldn’t call it a sense of responsibility, exactly. But he’d wanted to see what the war god of Egypt could really do.
But when he wakes, Tezcatlipoca can immediately feel the difference. It’s not that the air is different or that he immediately feels the slide of long hair against his back as he shifts. He simply feels the adulation. It may not empower him in the way it might have elsewhere, but it’s powerful all the same. As he looks at the gasping worshipper whose hands fly to her mouth as she looks between the waking gods, he feels like he could reach out and grasp it. It feels good, honestly.
But, there’s that whole other problem of, you know. Set.
The two of them pretty much immediately get into a (stupid) punching fight about who’s pulling whose hair, and the fact that Set is coming down off a two-week bender isn’t helping matters. It takes a good while for them to just tussle it out to the adoration of their on-lookers, but eventually, they stop biting, throwing punches, and pulling hair. It’s enough for Tezcatlipoca to step out onto the stoop of their little shrine and see where they are. At the very least, Kowloon hasn’t changed all that much during the Repose.
So, naturally, Tezcatlipoca reaches out to the first person he thinks of that can solve their problem. It’s a job that’s going to be half-hairdresser, half-referee, probably, but, hey. Matt’s totally got it. This is what Tezcatlipoca demands rather than assumes, anyways. It only takes a brief Communion to set Matt along his way down to Kowloon, and at the very least, Tezcatlipoca is waiting for him at the door.
He already looks like a hot mess, too. His hair is longer than he is tall at this point, he has some wounds that are only just stopping in their bleeding, and, of course, he’s smoking. He’ll deal with being hungry as fuck later. Right now, he hasn’t had nicotine in over a century, so he needs that more, thank you. ]
Yo. ‘Bout time. [ Ungrateful! But at least to be (very slightly) fair, he doesn’t know about any extra difficulties that it might have taken to get down here. ] Set’s here too, by the way. Ignore him.
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All things considered, he'd really like something to do with his hands right now.
So, after a rather more harrowing journey than he was expecting, due to pronounced changes in the geography, Matt finds the right building and knocks on the right door. He looks much the same as he did before he fell asleep. His own hair is decidedly tousled, but that's nothing new. ]
Springstar's gone a little topsy-turvy in the interim, [ he says dryly. ] They've taken their commitment to upzoning to a whole new level, you could say. [ boo you whore!!! Matt gets serious as he looks Tezcatlipoca over, at least. The sight of blood makes him frown. ] Are you okay? I know a healing spell that's nice and quick, it just isn't very powerful.
[ Also, he's already peering around for Set. ]
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[ Damn, he can't wait to go talk to Natalia and figure out what's been going on all that time. He's never had to build a tactical plan for a city in the sky, but the fact that there's still warfare to experience and manifest as delights him to no end.
In the depths of the Resting Room, Set lounges. Bloodied around the nose and sporting a few choice bite marks, he looks ambivalent to the damage as he sprawls across the edge of his little bed and sorts through the variety of leavings. It seems a compulsion for him, to pick each one up and examine it, expression somewhere between bristling confusion and some deeper, longing thing.
Like Tezca, his hair is EVERYWHERE. The worst part is that the far ends are actually braided up into the blond strands of the other god's, and with all their scuffling, that braid is now an unseemly Gordion knot. It took a lot of convincing from Tezca for Set not to just lop off the whole length, and instead use it as an opportunity to be pampered. ]
— and fxck you, Tezcatlipoca. Do not listen to him, Ma'tt. [ He half-snarls it, draped indulgently as he is; all thigh and bare chest, scowling at them both. ] Congratulations on your victory, by the by.
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» timeskip stuff
HIGHSTORM—hunting the dark
SKYSONG—incognito (?)
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Her hair is far longer than the last time she spoke to him but Alice is very recognizably Alice all the same. The look she gives the ATV speaks of recognition, if not for the vehicle itself then for the fact it is a vehicle.]
I've driven jeeps and motorcycles before. I can probably figure this out as well.
[She's less a driver than a rider typically but she has faith in herself.]
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[ …It’s a stretch, but sure. It doesn’t actually matter to him, since he’s just thrilled to have found a driver, so his grip on his rifle gets a little tighter. He is not giving it back now. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just gotten his volunteer. ]
So, whaddya say? Go monster huntin’ for the night? I’ll even be generous and put aside our whole sworn enemies deal for the night.
[ There’s a tone in “sworn enemies” that makes it sound like he’s making a joke about the conflict at least rather than something he seriously feels. However, how accurate that is to reality, well… Best not to think too hard about it. ]
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alenroux
But Smoky's shooting him a grin, and — oh, yeah. They'd talked about guns before, hadn't they? And he definitely doesn't care about hunting, has better things to focus on shooting (no he does not. It is not Oracle time), but getting to drive an ATV around... backroading... almost feels like something he'd have liked to have done in Baltimore, somewhere... This time not in the middle of a nuclear winter... ]
Yeah, fuck it, I've done a bit of riding before. Could be fun. [ Amos gives him a slight nod, bright voice signalling his interest even as his expression remains relatively blank. That'll change once he's actually behind the wheel of one of these things, but right now it's just a hypothetical, so... a slowly budding excitement. ] They got a quota or something we need to reach for 'em?
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Nah, not exactly, but they got a lil’ competition goin’ on! Whoever bags the most gets a payout. Ain’t a whole lot, but, hell, extra incentive, yeah? We win and we’ll split the winnings too.
[ Tezcatlipoca sounds confident, even! This is unwarranted! ]
So, if you’re down to drive, let’s do it. It’ll be a lot of fuckin’ fun!
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skysong
Hates it. He thinks he hates it, actually. He hates the smell of the strange new vehicles growling over the cobbles, he hates the way zealotry and xenophobia have put down roots where previously people had been curious and friendly, and most of all, he hates that the whole place is hanging hundreds of metres up in the air, the immense weight of it poised to plummet at any moment and shatter against the cratered landscape far below.
After his recent visit to Oppara, he cannot help but think wistfully of those familiar streets. Springstar had begun to feel like home to him; now he feels uprooted again, in more ways than one.
Liem has been trapped in Psychagogia for longer than he’d intended to be, at the mercy of the islands’ scheduled intersections, given that he steadfastly refuses to set foot on any of the flimsy-looking fliers buzzing between the different districts. His mood has soured over the past hour or so, helped not at all by the constant nagging anxiety that’s been bothering him since the first moment he glanced past the edge of one of the islands and realized how far they were from the ground. Given the circumstances, he would dearly love to see a friendly face.
Which is why, when he ducks into a tavern near the island’s edge to wait for the next scheduled crossing, he gravitates immediately towards the familiar-looking redhead lounging across the taproom, surrounded by excited chatter of “Set” and “the wakened war god”.
It is also why, when he gets closer and sees the man’s face, bewilderment stops him short, followed swiftly by a look of almost offended incredulity.]
And who might you be?
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And honestly, this place is getting close to a little too much attention. He expects it, of course, since Set is important and more established in Kenos than he is. But still, after the third or fourth place? He’ll have to give Set a hard time about it later.
He has an easy smile in place by the time Liem approaches, having shooed off another admirer. He has a drink in one hand, and he casts Liem a glance as he approaches. He doesn’t recognize him, since he may know who Liem is, but he hadn’t been shown what he looks like… And so, his smile becomes a little grin when he’s accused. ]
What? Don’t recognize a god in the flesh?
[ …Technically, it’s true, even with his playful deception. Yet even with that mischievous air, his gaze is sharp as he looks at Liem and appraises him… Then gestures to the free seat. He’s the first person he’s offered it to, actually. ]
Just doin’ some tourism. Shit’s changed, yeah? Worth seein’ everything, in that case.
[ He doesn’t bother trying to emulate Set’s mannerisms at all, because there’s no need. He thinks he’s already been caught, for one, but it’s not like most people know Set all that well. It’s how other incorrect details must stand out to Liem too—the painted nails, the clinging scent of cigarettes and copal, and even the fact that his build is a just a touch slighter than Set’s. ]
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https://c.tenor.com/gVmzdhgrxgwAAAAC/tenor.gif
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...
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highstorm
Well... just as dangerous for the average person, at least. Which Link is not.
He waited until the middle of the night to explore. His footsteps walk across the surface of the pools as if it were made of cement, as a clumsily-cast Walk on Water spell keeps him from plunging into the nothingness. He hasn't used this spell much, as he'd only just learned it before the Advocate Oracle happened... but there's a thrill to be found in this dangerous experimentation, too. It's exhilarating, to step off the narrow sidewalk lining the doorways and out onto the surface of the floodwaters, with only the magic keeping him from certain death. Is that what it is? Being that close to death makes him feel so alive. Like diving from the highest sky island he could reach, or staring down a Gloom-infested silver Lynel...
Maybe it's because he's so preoccupied with the danger of the water that he doesn't even sense the encroaching Oblivion. Nor does he hear the dark figure drop hard onto the raised sidewalk behind him with a sickening cracking noise, like the snapping of bones — ]
T-Tezcatlipoca?
[ His heart feels like it's about to jump into his throat. Not just from the startle of being snuck-upon, but from the way he stumbled slightly as he spun around. Losing his footing would be very bad. He gingerly steps off the water and back onto the sidewalk. ]
Was — was it one of those shadows? [ Link looks around the dark street, but of course, he doesn't see anything. But he's spotted them himself before. They are fast. ]
Thank you. [ He blinks, earnestly grateful. ]
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[ Normally, Tezcatlipoca doesn’t help people, not directly like this anyways, but he can make an exception for the strange waters. He grabs Link’s wrist as he stumbles and pulls him forward onto the sidewalk in tandem with Link stepping there himself. It’s at least a chance to also see how his odd armor works, in a way, since the claws on the “fists” retract when he pulls him forward. ]
Yeah, it was. I’m tryin’ to hunt one of down, considerin’ they should at least partially be in my domain.
[ He clicks his tongue as he releases Link’s hand, then looks around with irritation, though his eyes settle on the water. ]
No luck yet, though. Wanna slice one open if I can.
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highstorm
A column of orange flame lights up the alleyway, revealing Matt. He's wearing his usual clothes, and appears totally unarmed apart from a large leather pouch and a handful of dandelions.
The scent of burning plants fills the air.
And a filigree of golden light, its strands interwoven like a net, comes down over ... Tezcatlipoca. The light's touch doesn't hurt. Its ribbons whisper stay, stay, but even that may not feel compelling to the god. After all, he's not the intended target.
Matt blinks in surprise. ]
Tez--?
[ He breathes a laugh, fond but a little frustrated. As quickly as it had appeared, the net melts away. ]
I know, [ he agrees, dragging a hand through his hair. ] That was kind of the point. But ah--thank you.
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…Granted, it’s not entirely the sort he’d like to see. The ribbons of light descend on him as gentle encouragement rather than the kind of burning fire he’d “like”. That’s what gets him to laugh, and he reaches up towards the ribbons to try and touch them curiously just as they start to melt away. Too bad. Considering his dominion over magic, he’d like to get a better feel for them. ]
Oh, yeah? You out huntin’ too?
[ The swishing of his tail calms, but it doesn’t stop completely as he steps closer to Matt. When he steps closer, there’s also a sensation of thrumming magic, whatever that might feel like to Matt in particular. He’d mentioned conserving energy with his usual look, and it’s clearer what that means now, since this armor seems to slough it off casually. It’s also a slice of divinity along with it, since this is the appearance of the king of jaguars. ]
Haven’t had any luck pinning one down yet. Should, since they should also belong to me.
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» matt (https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/61Rhh0domIL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg)
He wasn’t a bad housemate, exactly. He cleans, he cooks pretty decently, and he’s friendly and easy-going as ever, like they’ve always lived together. However… He did have a habit of disappearing for days at a time, too. He was always reachable through Communion, and it was never something he kept all that secret if asked. Sometimes he was out “hunting” in the Beyond or Alenroux, others, he would respond blearily that he was down in his Kowloon apartment after a Night™️, but there was also a guarantee with either case.
He'd amble his way back home (though he never called it that) and have some blood on him. It was better when he was coming from Kowloon, of course, since he had the shower to get rid of the worst of it… But he was a god of conflict, so he drank up violence just as much as he did their gentler conversations about the finer points of magecraft or Nahuatl poetry.
So, you know. In a sense, he is just continuing to uphold his standard as a Cat Of A Man. At least he’s not bringing Matt home any presents.
…Until today, anyways.
Tezcatlipoca has been away for two days at this point, so the key unlocking the door is a little bit of a surprise in just how sudden it is. But he’s barely even opened the door before he’s excitedly calling out inside. ]
Yo, roomie! [ oh and there’s a new nickname ] Got a present for ya!
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He cooks. He cleans??? He's gone a lot of the time, but Matt is too, on his various excursions. To Alenroux, working on Ruby's monster sanctuary; to Old Springstar, to engage in various geek social fallacies; to Draumahol once a week. To say nothing of his explorations around Highstorm, from chasing shadows to tending a plot in Greenwood to attending the odd astronomy-based local ritual. He rarely says where he's going or how long he'll be there, and he doesn't expect it of Tezcatlipoca.
Though he does fret a little over the blood.
Matt's home when Tezcatlipoca returns, as it happens. He's in the dining room, considering the feasibility of converting it to the Lodge component of the Abramelin Operation. It doesn't face onto an open terrace, but nothing in this house has a terrace. What are the mystical qualities of a terrace, exactly ...?
He leans out of the doorway and into the hall. ]
A present? [ His eyebrows arch. ] How'd you know it was my birthday?
[ It is not his birthday. ]
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However, Matt might be more drawn to the injuries that Tezcatlipoca has. There’s a dramatic looking gash on his brow, and a dried, but still large track of blood out of a nostril and down to his chin. It looks like he also wiped it at some point. However, he does not seem bothered by this even a little bit. ]
Ha, no, Flat already tried to pull the birthday credits grift. Besides, if it were your birthday, I’d be givin’ ya chocolate.
[ …Is that serious? As is often the case, it’s hard to tell. He just unlaces his boots quickly as he sets a nondescript bag down next to him. Whatever is in it makes a sturdy sound of something decently heavy. ]
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» house call
House calls land in the fun position for her of simultaneously feeling novel and not. When most came to or stayed within the medical department when they had need of Gavial or her colleagues, there was little travel to be had on the landship itself back home. Occasionally a particularly stubborn operator might require a visit right to their dorm room (a duty which often fell to Gavial thanks to her ability to quite literally strong-arm patients into compliance), but most of her traveling to see the sick or injured herself tended to be out on the field.
It’s an altogether different vibe to be moving through quiet streets at night for a visit. The path by now is one that’s altogether easy and familiar for her to traverse; once she checked her supplies and shouldered her bag, it feels like no time at all before she’s once again arriving at once-Sebastian’s-now-Matt’s house. She avails herself of the spare key as Matt had requested, slipping it into a pocket as she herself slips inside the building.
The quiet that greets her initially is one that she choses to take as a good sign—the two of them had best be getting some rest like she’d ordered. The stroll through the house is as familiar as the route to get there had been, her eyes peeled for any sign of them before she winds her way over to Matt’s room.
She doesn’t bother to knock before she pushes open the door, but she at least doesn’t raise her voice too much as she speaks out.]
Still alive in here?
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He sits up a little with a grunt as the door starts to open, but it turns into a soft laugh at how she announces herself. ]
Yeah, haven’t kicked the bucket yet.
[ But the bruise on his side looks less than pleasant at this point, hence why he shifts carefully. ]
Could’ve picked a better organ maybe, but, eh.
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I feel like if there is a good choice for a stunt like that, picking the one you got a spare of was probably the right move.
[Good job? Not that she sounds entirely approving, but it’s impressive he’s handling it well enough to be up and chatty. Guess gods really are made of sterner stuff.
She slips her bag from her shoulder to settle it atop the dresser, though there’s a pause that follows as her attention on him takes more of an assessing turn.]
Figure that’s gotta hurt like hell, huh?
[Might explain what he’s still doing awake, despite the cozy circumstances.]
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