[ And truly, Matt is quickly learning that Tezcatlipoca is fickle and whimsical… More cat behavior, smh… But since Matt doesn’t point it out (smart), Tezcatlipoca just grins a little in satisfaction when he asks. ]
That’s more like it.
[ AKA, good job, Matt, doing the bare minimum right after he’d pointed it out. Tezcatlipoca seems to be just shifting his weight at first as he moves to extend the strange, obsidian leg closer to Matt. The glint of the moonlight on the surface is beautiful, but it seems to get muddied as a black smoke starts to appear around it like it’s simply forming spontaneously in the air. He nods, and the smoke drifts to Matt. ]
It's one figment of the Black Sun and my Authority made manifest.
[ The smoke curls around Matt like it’s something alive, but it truly just seems to be a dark, fragrant smoke. However, it’s something incredibly magical—leagues above what Matt is providing him, oddly. ]
Think of it as manipulating probability, since I can see all possible futures. Doesn’t mean that nothing can hit you. But it’s a hell of a lot harder.
[ Matt's gaze catches on Tezcatlipoca's obsidian leg, then narrows onto the rising smoke. He only has time to register the gravity in Tezcatlipoca's tone as he says authority and Black Sun before that smoke is breezing his way, winding around him almost like an umbral cat might do. (Feline imagery again, but what can you do ...? Cats gonna cat.)
Matt smiles curiously. He turns towards the smoke, reaching up to see if he'll feel anything when his fingers pass through. The magic of it is so vibrant, Matt's half convinced it'll be tangible to him in at least some way. ]
I love manipulating probability, [ he notes, pleased. He dips his head to try and catch the smoke when he inhales. To take some of that sweet scent into himself, if he can. ] Thanks, Tezcatlipoca. I'll try and make the most of it.
[ For all intents and purposes, the smoke truly just seems to be smoke. It’s no more tangible and leaves nothing behind other than the lingering smell of copal and campfire. And luckily, it’s no different to inhale it either. It’s still inhaling smoke, so there’s that, but the scent and magically-charged nature of it actually makes it somewhat pleasant.
Tezcatlipoca laughs though as he sees what Matt does. Matt’s curious, he’ll give him that.
He shifts his weight from one leg to the other like he’s getting ready for a sprint, but it’s just his idle energy expressing itself. He’s feeling charged now, so he really wants to use it. Too bad that this is a hunt for something intangible instead of something messy he could tear into. ]
Anyways, let’s get goin’. If you’re gonna be bait, I’ll have to stay outta sight, since I figure if it has any intelligence, it’s gonna know better than to try and fuck with me.
[ He looks up to one of the balconies above that overlooks the Tears, then with a shrug followed be a low crouch, he leaps up to it with easy strength and elegance. As soon as he lands, he dips down to all fours, and thus, he is truly not beating the cat allegations today. ]
You wanna keep chattin’, let’s do it through Communion.
[ The tip of Matt's tongue swipes briefly across his upper lip, and he smiles faintly in the face of Tezcatlipoca's laughter. His smile widens as he watches him bounce back and forth. ]
Sounds good, [ Matt starts to answer. But before he can say anything else, Tezcatlipoca springs clear into the air, landing easily on a nearby balcony. His black armor melts into the darkness; if it weren't for the gold of his hair, Matt imagines he could lose sight of him entirely. ]
You got it, [ he concludes, mentally. Matt's gaze drops to the street ahead, and he proceeds down the alleyway.
For a moment, he goes quiet through Communion, gathering his breath back into a regular rhythm as he walks. Words filter through the connection, but they're not really for anyone but Matt: on the breast of a corpse as thy couch in the cremation-ground, I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black.
Ribbons of golden light appear in front of him. Matt lifts his hands, and though the light isn't tangible exactly, he seems to be manipulating its strands like string in a cat's cradle. Gradually, the light forms the original pattern from earlier. ]
I designed this configuration based on the energy signature off a teacup I found in the market, [ he explains. ] It had one of those light scars on it, if you've seen any of those. This is technically a shield spell, aka meant to contain entities with similar energy. I just haven't gotten anything to stay still long enough to try it.
[ If Matt has ever wondered what it’s like to be an apex predator, he’ll get a good sense of it through the channel of Communion that’s open between them. The dark smoke that characterizes Tezcatlipoca is still there but gone is the campfire. It’s a moonless night, and there’s sharp focus and calm in the dark.
Physically, it does get hard to track him as well. There are little sounds like a creak of wood under his weight or a soft thump as he jumps from one balcony to another, but he’s shockingly quiet. Since he doesn’t put on his mask, it really is just the occasional shimmer of his hair that stands out in the dark. ]
Clever. And to be honest, probably has a better chance of catchin’ it than my claws. But I ain’t a Caster, so I got what I got.
[ A pause, and then: ]
…What’s the poem?
[ He doesn’t recognize either part, but the imagery is striking and fitting. Considering he likes poetry (secretly), he’s curious. ]
[ Matt's curious for the hints he can detect over Communion. Tezcatlipoca's patience, the coiled spring of him. Matt's puppyish in comparison, all bounding curiosity and exploring things with his mouth first.
His natural footfalls are pretty quiet, for a normal human's. But right now Matt's making a little more noise than usual.
Look over here, shadows. Look at the shiny bait. ]
The poem? [ It takes him a moment to place what he was meditating on. With a sparkle of psychic laughter, he answers, ] Oh. Um, it was two, actually. The Hymn to Kali and "Heart-Shaped Box" by Nirvana. That one's a song, actually; it's been stuck in my head since I shared it with somebody.
[ And even he’s surprised, because it’s in a similar way despite the disconnect. ]
Never met Kali personally, but I know she was chillin’ in the Reverse Side of the World too. Wonder if Chaldea ever ran into her…
[ That’s a thought that’s murmured out idly, and there’s a thoughtfulness that comes with it too, and a few odd flashes of imagery. A teenaged girl with a severe face, strange white sands with a pure blue sky, and the hard, empty gaze of a young man that looks like he’s around Matt’s age. They’re all fleeting and feel disjointed, but they come at the mention of “Chaldea” specifically.
However. All that mystery is at least nicely counterbalanced by Something Stupid. ]
As for Nirvana, they’re popular enough that I know about ‘em, but not anything specific. I loved the modern world, so I squeezed as much outta watching as I could. Pop culture’s harder, though. You fuckers had a shitton of stuff to keep up with.
[ Normal conversations to have while hunting down spooky shadow monsters, you know, ]
[ At the recognition, Matt brightens--both visibly, his smile lit by the glow of his woven spell, and through their connection. The finer distinctions of his enthusiasm are probably too difficult to parse, but he's definitely more excited about Kali than Kurt Cobain.
The images are curious to him, as is the term "Chaldea"--a person? A god? None of it lingers long enough for Matt to get a good sense for what it might mean. ]
I didn't really keep up with pop culture either, [ he notes, rueful. He used to be almost proud of that--how his knowledge of the esoteric so thoroughly eclipsed what he knew about mass media. Now, he feels a little sad. ] But when you say you don't know anything specific, like ... you don't know any of their songs? "All Apologies," "Smells Like Teen Spirit," "Come As You Are"? None of those?
[ He comes to the end of the street, which terminates in a canal. Matt figures they don't want to try and hop on a skiff, so he asks: ]
Left or right?
[ Contemplating the dark water, a prickle runs up the back of his neck. He can't tell if it's intuition or fear. ]
Oh… “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, I think I know that one?
[ He starts to mentally hum the song, and it’s definitely a bit off. It’s like a half remembered tune that someone would have heard a long time ago, but he has the right vibe.
When Matt comes to the crossroads, Tezcatlipoca reappears. He skitters into view in a crouch, and his tail swishes over the side after. He leans forward to look down both sides. ]
Well, it gets complicated is the point. Gods could only observe the world, and pop culture counts as fine detail. Harder for us to see that kinda thing. And not every god even bothers to look.
[ He tilts his head up like he’s trying to catch a scent in the air, then hops to the next balcony on the right and looks down at Matt. ]
[ Matt nods, hanging the right turn without missing a beat.
Which is more than he can say for Tezca's take on Nirvana ... not that he can blame him, based on the level of exposure he's had. Matt starts to mentally hum it back. It quickly starts to sound less like humming, more like his memories of playing the track in his bedroom, except that when the drums come in, it's with a distinct psychic sense that he's going pah, pah, pah, pah.
The sound of the song fades from between Matt's ears as he scans the next street. It could be his imagination, but it looks darker here than the alley behind him. ]
You could only observe? [ he asks, trying to stay light. ] So you weren't wandering around Seattle in the 90s letting people challenge you to fights?
[ It makes sense that Matt would be able to just relay the song this way, but there’s still a little burst of excitement to hear the song all the same. He just hadn’t considered that yes, obviously someone could share things like that easily through Communion! The additions of Matt’s personal memory to it just makes it a little more charming. The excitement softens into a warm feeling that’s like appreciation, but with a slightly sad undercurrent, though it’s faint. ]
Ha! I wish! There’s plenty of places I would have loved to go hang out, and that’s on the list for sure.
[ Once Matt is on his way again, Tezcatlipoca silently follows yet again. He’s back to the shadows, though he’s still alert as he looks for any sign of them. ]
But that’s kinda the point and the beauty of it. Can’t. Humanity figured things out on their own long time ago, so us hanging out would fuck with the kinda progress you were all getting. Wouldn’t have gotten songs like that if we’d stuck around.
[ There’s a strong sense of duty behind those words, but still. It’s easy then to pick out what that sad little note is. He wishes that he could. ]
At least got to visit during my festival through my teixiptla, but obviously that hasn’t happened for a few centuries. Daybit being a fuckin’ cheeky bastard and summoning me is the first time I’ve been down to visit since.
[ Tezca's warmth, his excitement, get Matt brightening in turn. He's always delighted to find a new application of Communion, a new way to share and learn. So far, beaming music into other people's brains may be his favorite.
As Tezcatlipoca goes on, he starts to frown. ]
You're the one who can see all possible outcomes, so I guess I can't say you're wrong. [ Though part of Matt would like to. For himself as well as for Tezcatlipoca. For all humanity, really. ] That's a shame, though. I hope there's some other era in the future where we all come back together and get to ... I don't know, learn from each other.
[ As a mental parenthetical, Matt's not sure he realized Daybit is the one who summoned Tezcatlipoca--and therefore, that he's the one whose Shard Tezca asked for. He rolls over the thought for a moment as he traverses the dark street. His spell is still lighting the way for a few feet around him; Matt hasn't noticed yet that the shadows around it are slowly deepening. ]
[ He’s not sure that he ever considered that as a possibility. Even now with the promise of Zenith, he hadn’t. It just felt natural that if Zenith won that he would have a hand in creating the world, then retreat to a far-off place that the people he created would never know. That was just the duty of being the kind of god he was. There was no regret or longing associated with such a thing. It simply was in the way that a human’s heart had to beat.
And yet. The will of the World had declared that when the sun no longer reflected off him, then he would lose his Divinity. He could be human, truly, not simply this body that he had created as a clumsy vessel to shove a fragment of his soul into.
…Would he want that?
It’s a question that he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to consider long. The pensive and almost gentle thoughtfulness sharpens to a razor’s edge as perceives the deep shadows well before Matt does. His steps become truly silent, and he stays hidden with the ease of a natural predator. ]
Don’t react. But you got their attention. You ready to go?
[ Don't react, he says, which is the kind of sentiment guaranteed to get a reaction. It's a subdued one, at least: just a stiffening in Matt's next step, a sharp glance around. This place looks like more shadow than not all of a sudden. Like the whole street is an elaborate trap ready to spring shut, darkened buildings crushing him in their facades. ]
Totally. [ Focused, a bit distant. Matt spends a moment retracing the spell configuration with his eyes, doing his best to sear the pattern into his brain. (He's so focused that Tezcatlipoca might manage to memorize some of it too.) He reaches into the pouch at his side for the last of his herbs. ] I don't think it'll take long to recast this thing but ... please be quick just in case.
Okay.
Lights out.
[ Matt lets the spell fade, and true dark set in.
He doesn't have to wait long. The shadows are hungry hunters. And though he's far from a seasoned combatant, he has one slight advantage. After the first time one of these things scratched him up, he noticed they tend to feint left. Going for the heart, where his Shard sits.
That means when the first slash comes, his weight's already shifted. He darts right. There's a three-part harmony in his head: set the herbs alight, wind the mandala, put his breath into it. Who in Thy lotus-like left hand holdest a sword, I got a new complaint. The only problem is, in the handful of times Matt's done this, he's gotten really used to his spells charging up faster than they're doing now. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca observes it all with cool interest, for there’s a few things of direct relevance to him on display at once.
There’s the magic itself, for once. The way Matt memorizes the pattern and draws it forth is interesting to a god of magecraft, naturally. How he experiences it through Communion may be indirect, but it still sings to him in the way magic always does. It’s making the impossible possible, so of course it would be something in the Smoking Mirror’s domain. He can feel the nuance of Matt’s magic, such as the little markers that made him sure that they were from different worlds entirely, but he’s more focused on the application than the theory at the moment.
For second, there’s the challenge he’s indirectly given Matt here. He’s brave, which Tezcatlipoca appreciates, but how far does the resolve go? It’s what he’d meant by confusingly giving his assistance but denying his protection. Facing down the danger itself is something Matt has to do, and it’s against Tezcatlipoca’s role as a god to intervene.
…Directly, at least.
The smoke is sure to help with some of the work, but as Matt struggles to draw forth the energy, the shadows seem to sense the opportunity (or perhaps call out to more?) and get denser in the alley. That’s enough for Tezcatlipoca to leap down from his perch about twenty feet away to stave off the ones that would perhaps overwhelm Matt completely otherwise. They’re not exactly usefully tangible, but as soon as they rise from the cobblestones, he’s able to cut them into ribbons all the same. ]
[ Flame rises over Matt's upturned palm. The scent of burning sage and dandelion fills the air. A tiny piece of his awareness clocks Tezcatlipoca nearby, but the bulk of his attention is on his spell--and the shadows.
There's a reason for the Hymn to Kali. For Kurt Cobain. Matt came out here to be bait, and a worm rarely escapes the bite of the hook. The filigree of spellwork starts to take shape, but underneath, Matt's bracing. His body is the foundation of the magic, the instrument that gives the energy its form; he can't give in to fear or pain.
It all takes only a few seconds. The nearest shadow lands a hit, scraping up Matt's thigh and over his ribs. He bites his lip hard, the spell configuration flickering but still holding, still forming. As soon as the last symbol etches itself into place, Matt lets the spell fly. It flaps like a banner, curling to wrap around the shadow that's right on him. If it works right, it'll hold the thing in place.
Not as bad as Silco's fangs in that alley, he tells himself. Though he does feel cold, and tired, like he does when he's had his blood drunk. ]
[ When the shadows touch his bare hands, he feels a similar chill that Matt does. He has a human body, so he’s not immune in the slightest to what these things can do to him. But he growls in response and drives the much more divine claws of his armor into the shadow. He can almost grasp them for what the are—it feels like something on the tip of his tongue. He’s sure that if this were his World, he’d be able to pin them down, but his Authority only stretches so far in one that doesn’t fully recognize it.
He truly doesn’t give Matt a second glance as he casts his spell. His own focus is on the mass of shadows that are realizing that this isn’t so easy a target. It keeps them away from Matt, which is the point. However, as the glow is cast, one of the shadows starts to take a shape like it’s trying a different tactic. It shifts to something humanoid, but before it fully solidifies, there are intensely violet eyes that stare out of the shadow their way.
—And Tezcatlipoca cuts it in half without even a moment’s hesitation.
At least for Matt’s part, the spell holds. It’s successful, even, because the shadow squirms and writhes under the magic like it’s trying to escape, but it’s not without a slight hiccup. It seems like the light is almost burning away at the shadow, albeit slowly. It won’t last forever under the light.
Tezcatlipoca huffs out a heavy breath as he looks Matt’s way to see his success. He shakes his hand like that might remove some of the lingering, tingling numbness, but with a burst of speed drawn from magic, he closes the distance between them. Matt would be completely fair in feeling a bit fearful as Tezcatlipoca shoots forward and swings a kick down that sure seems like it could be for Matt… But his obsidian leg hits the ground in front of him with a shower of purple sparks. It can at least drive some of the rest back, or such is his thought. ]
[ Matt's emotions crest and crash, coming so quickly after each other that he barely has time to feel them: a lift of exhilaration for the spell succeeding, a stomach-pit plunge as he realizes it's not working entirely as he intended. It's not going to hold. ]
Fuck-- [ Tezcatlipoca comes bursting towards him, and though Matt's first thought is fear, it's not of Tezcatlipoca, but an icy dread that there must be a shadow right beside him. He jumps back instinctively; purple sparks fill his vision. As soon as Matt's gotten enough of his breath back to speak, he says urgently, ] Can you ask it something? Get a look at it?
[ It's an embarrassingly long interval (though like before, measured in only seconds of actual time) before Matt realizes that the best spell he could cast right now is also the easiest. His breath catches in his throat, a slightly pained and stuck sound.
Golden light appears over his palm. It wobbles; it's not so bright as it was a minute ago, as the net that holds the shadow still is. And he's starting to feel distinctly lightheaded. But it shines.
Matt takes a step towards the darkness, waving his hand like he's brandishing a torch. ]
[ There’s a strange sound that accompanies Tezcatlipoca’s kick, but Matt might not notice it in the flurry of everything else. It’s not something that Tezcatlipoca draws any attention to, certainly, but a piece of obsidian cracks off his heel and skitters along the stones. His leg had symbolism, sure, but. It wasn’t exactly the most durable, especially when these shadows seemed to be trying to take a bite out of his mana. Definitely a good thing he struck up the contract, even if it seems to be taking its toll on Matt.
He can practically see it as his eyes snap briefly to meet his, but then they’re back down to the shadow that he’s captured. Tezcatlipoca clicks his tongue, and even if it might not practically do anything, that dangerously barbed tail whips out to pin it in place. Or, it certainly would if it were something more physical. ]
What, me? You’re the mage here, so you’re supposed to be the one askin’ the questions.
[ Nevermind that Tezcatlipoca never explains that. It also doesn’t exactly matter, since contradictory as ever, he dips closer to it to take a look. He doesn’t speak, and it’s not totally clear what he’s even looking at so intensely, but his brow knits together like he’s figured out something. ]
You think you got enough left in the tank to do some healing magic? Or, fuck, carry me somewhere, I guess. Either or.
[ He does have an Idea, but it’s. Perhaps not ideal. ]
[ Matt appreciates that powerful-looking whip of his tail, even though he shoots Tezcatlipoca a glower immediately after that's somewhere between confusion and exasperation.
Yes or no would have worked fine!
Nonetheless, the look fades when Tezcatlipoca actually does swoop down to examine the captured shadow. Matt watches anxiously, gaze flickering between Tezcatlipoca, the slowly fraying dark, and the light fluttering in his hand. ]
I can keep you in one piece, [ he says with a frown. Though potentially not much more than that, even assuming they can kiss about it after the immediate danger has passed. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots another shadow encroaching, this one seeming to have grown slender shoulders and a distinctive head of silhouetted hair. Matt waves his arm again, as if trying to shoo away a bat. ] Go for it.
[ A quick, urging glance for Tezcatlipoca; a glare for the darkness. I swear, if you try to look like Katy again-- ]
[ It won’t be ideal. In fact, it’ll still fucking suck, he’s sure, but it won’t be so bad as making Izcalli. Tezcatlipoca’s divinity requires sacrifice to access, because that might as well be a rule written into the very fabric of the universe. And yet, he doesn’t hesitate.
He shifts to kneel fully for better balance, and he holds one hand out over the captured shadow. For a moment, nothing seems to happen, but then slowly, a dark black ball starts to form over his hand that’s rimmed with violet light. In his legends, Tezcatlipoca was the Black Sun, and such a thing is usually hard to imagine, since the two words seem to be contradictory. This is the phenomenon in miniature.
However, as he does so, his entire body tenses sharply. He sucks in a sharp breath and releases it shakily, and within the shadow of the dark orb, something appears… But it’s impossible to make out as shadow within shadow. There’s only the metallic scent of blood, but it’s brief as Tezcatlipoca flexes his hand and crushes the energy into motes that rapidly disappear.
What happens also isn’t totally clear. So far as magical spells go, it’s not showy. Other than Tezcatlipoca’s obvious pain and discomfort, the only change is in his eyes. The pale blue is notable and unnatural, but now, they glow. Tezcatlipoca’s gaze isn’t fixed on Matt, it’s purely on the shadow, but it still feels like that light exerts a pressure, almost. It’s a sliver of what Tezcatlipoca had referred to when he’d mentioned miracles, since it’s a pure expression of divinity as he forces omniscience into a vessel that isn’t supposed to possess it. And what he gets— ]
Fuck!
[ …May have to wait for later. He clutches his side as he closes his eyes tightly. His voice is a bit thicker and rougher, but he gives an answer all the same. ]
Yeah, that’s— Got somethin’, but that’s all I can do without giving up more.
[ Matt should be keeping an eye on the shadows. But he isn't. As soon as Tezcatlipoca conjures that sphere of darkness, obsidian mirror, pulsing with photo-negative delumination, Matt's gaze locks onto it. Onto him. (He maintains his light spell, at least, or things would get even more interesting pretty fucking fast.)
The scent of blood fills the air, copper in his nose. Matt can't see what's in the center of the darkness, but he's guessing it's exactly what he's afraid of. He watches Tezcatlipoca's eyes turn impossibly bright. Light presses on his chest, his ears; the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and his mouth goes dry. His heart lurches with an indescribable emotion.
--And then, like some celestial string has been cut, it all falls away. Tezcatlipoca swears, grabs at his side, and Matt drops immediately to kneel beside him. ]
Don't give up any more, [ he says firmly. Without hesitating--there's no time for it--Matt reaches out, takes Tezcatlipoca's face in his hands. And kisses him with fierce desperation.
Before Matt came to Kenos, his best healing spell was basically buffed up aloe vera. A kind Highstorm resident taught him Cure Wounds, which isn't much stronger. But they both share a concern with the first stage of healing: the part where you stop bleeding. Matt gasps into Tezcatlipoca's mouth, feeling familiar heat rising in his belly. Bright ribbons of energy weave around them--around Tezcatlipoca. Their patterns sink into his skin. Matt's dizzy, but he doesn't break the kiss until he absolutely has to breathe again. ]
[ Even knowing about Matt’s version of magic and enough of how it works, sure, but it’s something else to meet it practically in the moment. It’s surprising, or rather, it’s the insistence that it comes with, honestly. People don’t touch him without his permission (they’re often too afraid to), so he does indeed forget the sharp pain in his side for a moment. He reaches up to grab Matt’s wrists reflexively, but the current of magic grounds him from the more instinctual reaction.
He can feel the magic doing its work, at least. It’s really all he expects in the moment, since even if he’s demanding, he doesn’t actually expect anyone to be able to regrow an organ he’d just lost in a matter of moments. Daybit had been able to patch him up when he’d given his lung to make Izcalli, but that had still taken a few (miserable) days. A kidney isn’t so bad compared to that.
…But also. Being kissed with this kind of intensity and not biting back in response, even if it’s purely practical?
Tezcatlipoca is actually the one that pulls away first, but it’s probably only moments before Matt would have needed to. It would be easy to miss in the dim light, especially when his gaze stays serious and severe, but there’s a very small amount of color on Tezcatlipoca’s cheeks. He’s just a little bit flustered. ]
Yeah, that works.
[ Is that a “thank you”? Who knows, honestly, because he removes his tail from where it’s partially embedded into the ground to whip out behind him and slash through another shadow that had been slipping closer. He keeps one hand on his side, since it’s a wound that might not be bleeding, but it throbs painfully with every heartbeat. Even so, he stands without wavering. His voice is still terse, but not nearly so thick as it had been before. ]
Let’s get goin’, unless you got other ideas. Another one of those and one of us is gonna be eatin’ the pavement, I figure.
[ Were it not for the glow of his light spell, Matt would miss Tezcatlipoca's flush entirely. The street's spinning so much he nearly does anyway. But as he looks him over, concern etched in the breathless lines of his face, he catches a hint of color. ]
... Yeah, [ Matt agrees. Whatever may be going on beneath the surface, he's relieved to see Tezcatlipoca stand so smoothly under his own power. Matt's a good deal wobblier as he pushes himself off the ground. The pulse of the light overhead has turned a little erratic--it burns brighter from the kiss for a moment, but ebbs lower in its wake. Matt staggers to catch up with Tezcatlipoca, adding for the shadows' benefit, ] Back the fuck up.
[ This comes out more like an annoyed mutter than a badass proclamation. But you know, it's been a long night all of a sudden.
Matt offers Tezcatlipoca his arm, which is kind of delusional because Matt's swaying more than he is. ]
Home? [ The house he inherited from Sebastian, he means. ] Or do you need a medical professional?
[ Since Matt doesn’t note it, Tezcatlipoca (incorrectly) thinks that he got off the hook for that little embarrassment. It’s a good thing too, because he’d be sure to stubbornly, adamantly deny it. Still, though. He gives a little grin at Matt’s machismo, even muttered, though it doesn’t last all that long when Matt offers his arm to him. ]
Woah there— You’re the one that needs me, punk.
[ In a way, Tezcatlipoca does take his arm. He dips low so that it’s set over his shoulders, and with a grunt of effort, he starts to step quickly to lead their retreat. He can bear some of Matt’s weight, and though his breath is heavier with exertion, he’s keeping the way it hurts to himself. ]
Yeah, home. You gotta rest up. I’ll be fine.
[ …He does need a medical professional, but. He doesn’t expect someone they find quick to be able to do much. He’s either going to go hit Silco up to see what kind of sketchy fucks he knows or take the quicker “reset” out, but that’s nothing Matt needs to worry about in his book.
It at least doesn’t take long for them to get out of the darker alleys and into some of the magically lit main streets. It’s at that point that Tezcatlipoca’s odd armor seems to turn to smoke, and it leaves behind the outfit that Matt is more used to seeing, sans sunglasses. Yet as odd as that transition is, it also feels like removing a weight from Matt himself. That drain on his magic is still there, but it’s significantly less. ]
C’mon. [ Tezcatlipoca adjusts Matt’s arm on his shoulders with a grunt now that there’s not the collar of the armor in the way. ] …Where’re you stayin’, anyways?
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That’s more like it.
[ AKA, good job, Matt, doing the bare minimum right after he’d pointed it out. Tezcatlipoca seems to be just shifting his weight at first as he moves to extend the strange, obsidian leg closer to Matt. The glint of the moonlight on the surface is beautiful, but it seems to get muddied as a black smoke starts to appear around it like it’s simply forming spontaneously in the air. He nods, and the smoke drifts to Matt. ]
It's one figment of the Black Sun and my Authority made manifest.
[ The smoke curls around Matt like it’s something alive, but it truly just seems to be a dark, fragrant smoke. However, it’s something incredibly magical—leagues above what Matt is providing him, oddly. ]
Think of it as manipulating probability, since I can see all possible futures. Doesn’t mean that nothing can hit you. But it’s a hell of a lot harder.
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Matt smiles curiously. He turns towards the smoke, reaching up to see if he'll feel anything when his fingers pass through. The magic of it is so vibrant, Matt's half convinced it'll be tangible to him in at least some way. ]
I love manipulating probability, [ he notes, pleased. He dips his head to try and catch the smoke when he inhales. To take some of that sweet scent into himself, if he can. ] Thanks, Tezcatlipoca. I'll try and make the most of it.
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Tezcatlipoca laughs though as he sees what Matt does. Matt’s curious, he’ll give him that.
He shifts his weight from one leg to the other like he’s getting ready for a sprint, but it’s just his idle energy expressing itself. He’s feeling charged now, so he really wants to use it. Too bad that this is a hunt for something intangible instead of something messy he could tear into. ]
Anyways, let’s get goin’. If you’re gonna be bait, I’ll have to stay outta sight, since I figure if it has any intelligence, it’s gonna know better than to try and fuck with me.
[ He looks up to one of the balconies above that overlooks the Tears, then with a shrug followed be a low crouch, he leaps up to it with easy strength and elegance. As soon as he lands, he dips down to all fours, and thus, he is truly not beating the cat allegations today. ]
You wanna keep chattin’, let’s do it through Communion.
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Sounds good, [ Matt starts to answer. But before he can say anything else, Tezcatlipoca springs clear into the air, landing easily on a nearby balcony. His black armor melts into the darkness; if it weren't for the gold of his hair, Matt imagines he could lose sight of him entirely. ]
You got it, [ he concludes, mentally. Matt's gaze drops to the street ahead, and he proceeds down the alleyway.
For a moment, he goes quiet through Communion, gathering his breath back into a regular rhythm as he walks. Words filter through the connection, but they're not really for anyone but Matt: on the breast of a corpse as thy couch in the cremation-ground, I wish I could eat your cancer when you turn black.
Ribbons of golden light appear in front of him. Matt lifts his hands, and though the light isn't tangible exactly, he seems to be manipulating its strands like string in a cat's cradle. Gradually, the light forms the original pattern from earlier. ]
I designed this configuration based on the energy signature off a teacup I found in the market, [ he explains. ] It had one of those light scars on it, if you've seen any of those. This is technically a shield spell, aka meant to contain entities with similar energy. I just haven't gotten anything to stay still long enough to try it.
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Physically, it does get hard to track him as well. There are little sounds like a creak of wood under his weight or a soft thump as he jumps from one balcony to another, but he’s shockingly quiet. Since he doesn’t put on his mask, it really is just the occasional shimmer of his hair that stands out in the dark. ]
Clever. And to be honest, probably has a better chance of catchin’ it than my claws. But I ain’t a Caster, so I got what I got.
[ A pause, and then: ]
…What’s the poem?
[ He doesn’t recognize either part, but the imagery is striking and fitting. Considering he likes poetry (secretly), he’s curious. ]
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and exploring things with his mouth first.His natural footfalls are pretty quiet, for a normal human's. But right now Matt's making a little more noise than usual.
Look over here, shadows. Look at the shiny bait. ]
The poem? [ It takes him a moment to place what he was meditating on. With a sparkle of psychic laughter, he answers, ] Oh. Um, it was two, actually. The Hymn to Kali and "Heart-Shaped Box" by Nirvana. That one's a song, actually; it's been stuck in my head since I shared it with somebody.
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[ And even he’s surprised, because it’s in a similar way despite the disconnect. ]
Never met Kali personally, but I know she was chillin’ in the Reverse Side of the World too. Wonder if Chaldea ever ran into her…
[ That’s a thought that’s murmured out idly, and there’s a thoughtfulness that comes with it too, and a few odd flashes of imagery. A teenaged girl with a severe face, strange white sands with a pure blue sky, and the hard, empty gaze of a young man that looks like he’s around Matt’s age. They’re all fleeting and feel disjointed, but they come at the mention of “Chaldea” specifically.
However. All that mystery is at least nicely counterbalanced by Something Stupid. ]
As for Nirvana, they’re popular enough that I know about ‘em, but not anything specific. I loved the modern world, so I squeezed as much outta watching as I could. Pop culture’s harder, though. You fuckers had a shitton of stuff to keep up with.
[ Normal conversations to have while hunting down spooky shadow monsters, you know, ]
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The images are curious to him, as is the term "Chaldea"--a person? A god? None of it lingers long enough for Matt to get a good sense for what it might mean. ]
I didn't really keep up with pop culture either, [ he notes, rueful. He used to be almost proud of that--how his knowledge of the esoteric so thoroughly eclipsed what he knew about mass media. Now, he feels a little sad. ] But when you say you don't know anything specific, like ... you don't know any of their songs? "All Apologies," "Smells Like Teen Spirit," "Come As You Are"? None of those?
[ He comes to the end of the street, which terminates in a canal. Matt figures they don't want to try and hop on a skiff, so he asks: ]
Left or right?
[ Contemplating the dark water, a prickle runs up the back of his neck. He can't tell if it's intuition or fear. ]
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[ He starts to mentally hum the song, and it’s definitely a bit off. It’s like a half remembered tune that someone would have heard a long time ago, but he has the right vibe.
When Matt comes to the crossroads, Tezcatlipoca reappears. He skitters into view in a crouch, and his tail swishes over the side after. He leans forward to look down both sides. ]
Well, it gets complicated is the point. Gods could only observe the world, and pop culture counts as fine detail. Harder for us to see that kinda thing. And not every god even bothers to look.
[ He tilts his head up like he’s trying to catch a scent in the air, then hops to the next balcony on the right and looks down at Matt. ]
Right.
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Which is more than he can say for Tezca's take on Nirvana ... not that he can blame him, based on the level of exposure he's had. Matt starts to mentally hum it back. It quickly starts to sound less like humming, more like his memories of playing the track in his bedroom, except that when the drums come in, it's with a distinct psychic sense that he's going pah, pah, pah, pah.
The sound of the song fades from between Matt's ears as he scans the next street. It could be his imagination, but it looks darker here than the alley behind him. ]
You could only observe? [ he asks, trying to stay light. ] So you weren't wandering around Seattle in the 90s letting people challenge you to fights?
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Ha! I wish! There’s plenty of places I would have loved to go hang out, and that’s on the list for sure.
[ Once Matt is on his way again, Tezcatlipoca silently follows yet again. He’s back to the shadows, though he’s still alert as he looks for any sign of them. ]
But that’s kinda the point and the beauty of it. Can’t. Humanity figured things out on their own long time ago, so us hanging out would fuck with the kinda progress you were all getting. Wouldn’t have gotten songs like that if we’d stuck around.
[ There’s a strong sense of duty behind those words, but still. It’s easy then to pick out what that sad little note is. He wishes that he could. ]
At least got to visit during my festival through my teixiptla, but obviously that hasn’t happened for a few centuries. Daybit being a fuckin’ cheeky bastard and summoning me is the first time I’ve been down to visit since.
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As Tezcatlipoca goes on, he starts to frown. ]
You're the one who can see all possible outcomes, so I guess I can't say you're wrong. [ Though part of Matt would like to. For himself as well as for Tezcatlipoca. For all humanity, really. ] That's a shame, though. I hope there's some other era in the future where we all come back together and get to ... I don't know, learn from each other.
[ As a mental parenthetical, Matt's not sure he realized Daybit is the one who summoned Tezcatlipoca--and therefore, that he's the one whose Shard Tezca asked for. He rolls over the thought for a moment as he traverses the dark street. His spell is still lighting the way for a few feet around him; Matt hasn't noticed yet that the shadows around it are slowly deepening. ]
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[ He’s not sure that he ever considered that as a possibility. Even now with the promise of Zenith, he hadn’t. It just felt natural that if Zenith won that he would have a hand in creating the world, then retreat to a far-off place that the people he created would never know. That was just the duty of being the kind of god he was. There was no regret or longing associated with such a thing. It simply was in the way that a human’s heart had to beat.
And yet. The will of the World had declared that when the sun no longer reflected off him, then he would lose his Divinity. He could be human, truly, not simply this body that he had created as a clumsy vessel to shove a fragment of his soul into.
…Would he want that?
It’s a question that he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to consider long. The pensive and almost gentle thoughtfulness sharpens to a razor’s edge as perceives the deep shadows well before Matt does. His steps become truly silent, and he stays hidden with the ease of a natural predator. ]
Don’t react. But you got their attention. You ready to go?
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Totally. [ Focused, a bit distant. Matt spends a moment retracing the spell configuration with his eyes, doing his best to sear the pattern into his brain. (He's so focused that Tezcatlipoca might manage to memorize some of it too.) He reaches into the pouch at his side for the last of his herbs. ] I don't think it'll take long to recast this thing but ... please be quick just in case.
Okay.
Lights out.
[ Matt lets the spell fade, and true dark set in.
He doesn't have to wait long. The shadows are hungry hunters. And though he's far from a seasoned combatant, he has one slight advantage. After the first time one of these things scratched him up, he noticed they tend to feint left. Going for the heart, where his Shard sits.
That means when the first slash comes, his weight's already shifted. He darts right. There's a three-part harmony in his head: set the herbs alight, wind the mandala, put his breath into it. Who in Thy lotus-like left hand holdest a sword, I got a new complaint. The only problem is, in the handful of times Matt's done this, he's gotten really used to his spells charging up faster than they're doing now. ]
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There’s the magic itself, for once. The way Matt memorizes the pattern and draws it forth is interesting to a god of magecraft, naturally. How he experiences it through Communion may be indirect, but it still sings to him in the way magic always does. It’s making the impossible possible, so of course it would be something in the Smoking Mirror’s domain. He can feel the nuance of Matt’s magic, such as the little markers that made him sure that they were from different worlds entirely, but he’s more focused on the application than the theory at the moment.
For second, there’s the challenge he’s indirectly given Matt here. He’s brave, which Tezcatlipoca appreciates, but how far does the resolve go? It’s what he’d meant by confusingly giving his assistance but denying his protection. Facing down the danger itself is something Matt has to do, and it’s against Tezcatlipoca’s role as a god to intervene.
…Directly, at least.
The smoke is sure to help with some of the work, but as Matt struggles to draw forth the energy, the shadows seem to sense the opportunity (or perhaps call out to more?) and get denser in the alley. That’s enough for Tezcatlipoca to leap down from his perch about twenty feet away to stave off the ones that would perhaps overwhelm Matt completely otherwise. They’re not exactly usefully tangible, but as soon as they rise from the cobblestones, he’s able to cut them into ribbons all the same. ]
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There's a reason for the Hymn to Kali. For Kurt Cobain. Matt came out here to be bait, and a worm rarely escapes the bite of the hook. The filigree of spellwork starts to take shape, but underneath, Matt's bracing. His body is the foundation of the magic, the instrument that gives the energy its form; he can't give in to fear or pain.
It all takes only a few seconds. The nearest shadow lands a hit, scraping up Matt's thigh and over his ribs. He bites his lip hard, the spell configuration flickering but still holding, still forming. As soon as the last symbol etches itself into place, Matt lets the spell fly. It flaps like a banner, curling to wrap around the shadow that's right on him. If it works right, it'll hold the thing in place.
Not as bad as Silco's fangs in that alley, he tells himself. Though he does feel cold, and tired, like he does when he's had his blood drunk. ]
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He truly doesn’t give Matt a second glance as he casts his spell. His own focus is on the mass of shadows that are realizing that this isn’t so easy a target. It keeps them away from Matt, which is the point. However, as the glow is cast, one of the shadows starts to take a shape like it’s trying a different tactic. It shifts to something humanoid, but before it fully solidifies, there are intensely violet eyes that stare out of the shadow their way.
—And Tezcatlipoca cuts it in half without even a moment’s hesitation.
At least for Matt’s part, the spell holds. It’s successful, even, because the shadow squirms and writhes under the magic like it’s trying to escape, but it’s not without a slight hiccup. It seems like the light is almost burning away at the shadow, albeit slowly. It won’t last forever under the light.
Tezcatlipoca huffs out a heavy breath as he looks Matt’s way to see his success. He shakes his hand like that might remove some of the lingering, tingling numbness, but with a burst of speed drawn from magic, he closes the distance between them. Matt would be completely fair in feeling a bit fearful as Tezcatlipoca shoots forward and swings a kick down that sure seems like it could be for Matt… But his obsidian leg hits the ground in front of him with a shower of purple sparks. It can at least drive some of the rest back, or such is his thought. ]
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Fuck-- [ Tezcatlipoca comes bursting towards him, and though Matt's first thought is fear, it's not of Tezcatlipoca, but an icy dread that there must be a shadow right beside him. He jumps back instinctively; purple sparks fill his vision. As soon as Matt's gotten enough of his breath back to speak, he says urgently, ] Can you ask it something? Get a look at it?
[ It's an embarrassingly long interval (though like before, measured in only seconds of actual time) before Matt realizes that the best spell he could cast right now is also the easiest. His breath catches in his throat, a slightly pained and stuck sound.
Golden light appears over his palm. It wobbles; it's not so bright as it was a minute ago, as the net that holds the shadow still is. And he's starting to feel distinctly lightheaded. But it shines.
Matt takes a step towards the darkness, waving his hand like he's brandishing a torch. ]
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He can practically see it as his eyes snap briefly to meet his, but then they’re back down to the shadow that he’s captured. Tezcatlipoca clicks his tongue, and even if it might not practically do anything, that dangerously barbed tail whips out to pin it in place. Or, it certainly would if it were something more physical. ]
What, me? You’re the mage here, so you’re supposed to be the one askin’ the questions.
[ Nevermind that Tezcatlipoca never explains that. It also doesn’t exactly matter, since contradictory as ever, he dips closer to it to take a look. He doesn’t speak, and it’s not totally clear what he’s even looking at so intensely, but his brow knits together like he’s figured out something. ]
You think you got enough left in the tank to do some healing magic? Or, fuck, carry me somewhere, I guess. Either or.
[ He does have an Idea, but it’s. Perhaps not ideal. ]
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Yes or no would have worked fine!
Nonetheless, the look fades when Tezcatlipoca actually does swoop down to examine the captured shadow. Matt watches anxiously, gaze flickering between Tezcatlipoca, the slowly fraying dark, and the light fluttering in his hand. ]
I can keep you in one piece, [ he says with a frown. Though potentially not much more than that, even assuming they can kiss about it after the immediate danger has passed. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots another shadow encroaching, this one seeming to have grown slender shoulders and a distinctive head of silhouetted hair. Matt waves his arm again, as if trying to shoo away a bat. ] Go for it.
[ A quick, urging glance for Tezcatlipoca; a glare for the darkness. I swear, if you try to look like Katy again-- ]
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[ It won’t be ideal. In fact, it’ll still fucking suck, he’s sure, but it won’t be so bad as making Izcalli. Tezcatlipoca’s divinity requires sacrifice to access, because that might as well be a rule written into the very fabric of the universe. And yet, he doesn’t hesitate.
He shifts to kneel fully for better balance, and he holds one hand out over the captured shadow. For a moment, nothing seems to happen, but then slowly, a dark black ball starts to form over his hand that’s rimmed with violet light. In his legends, Tezcatlipoca was the Black Sun, and such a thing is usually hard to imagine, since the two words seem to be contradictory. This is the phenomenon in miniature.
However, as he does so, his entire body tenses sharply. He sucks in a sharp breath and releases it shakily, and within the shadow of the dark orb, something appears… But it’s impossible to make out as shadow within shadow. There’s only the metallic scent of blood, but it’s brief as Tezcatlipoca flexes his hand and crushes the energy into motes that rapidly disappear.
What happens also isn’t totally clear. So far as magical spells go, it’s not showy. Other than Tezcatlipoca’s obvious pain and discomfort, the only change is in his eyes. The pale blue is notable and unnatural, but now, they glow. Tezcatlipoca’s gaze isn’t fixed on Matt, it’s purely on the shadow, but it still feels like that light exerts a pressure, almost. It’s a sliver of what Tezcatlipoca had referred to when he’d mentioned miracles, since it’s a pure expression of divinity as he forces omniscience into a vessel that isn’t supposed to possess it. And what he gets— ]
Fuck!
[ …May have to wait for later. He clutches his side as he closes his eyes tightly. His voice is a bit thicker and rougher, but he gives an answer all the same. ]
Yeah, that’s— Got somethin’, but that’s all I can do without giving up more.
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The scent of blood fills the air, copper in his nose. Matt can't see what's in the center of the darkness, but he's guessing it's exactly what he's afraid of. He watches Tezcatlipoca's eyes turn impossibly bright. Light presses on his chest, his ears; the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and his mouth goes dry. His heart lurches with an indescribable emotion.
--And then, like some celestial string has been cut, it all falls away. Tezcatlipoca swears, grabs at his side, and Matt drops immediately to kneel beside him. ]
Don't give up any more, [ he says firmly. Without hesitating--there's no time for it--Matt reaches out, takes Tezcatlipoca's face in his hands. And kisses him with fierce desperation.
Before Matt came to Kenos, his best healing spell was basically buffed up aloe vera. A kind Highstorm resident taught him Cure Wounds, which isn't much stronger. But they both share a concern with the first stage of healing: the part where you stop bleeding. Matt gasps into Tezcatlipoca's mouth, feeling familiar heat rising in his belly. Bright ribbons of energy weave around them--around Tezcatlipoca. Their patterns sink into his skin. Matt's dizzy, but he doesn't break the kiss until he absolutely has to breathe again. ]
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He can feel the magic doing its work, at least. It’s really all he expects in the moment, since even if he’s demanding, he doesn’t actually expect anyone to be able to regrow an organ he’d just lost in a matter of moments. Daybit had been able to patch him up when he’d given his lung to make Izcalli, but that had still taken a few (miserable) days. A kidney isn’t so bad compared to that.
…But also. Being kissed with this kind of intensity and not biting back in response, even if it’s purely practical?
Tezcatlipoca is actually the one that pulls away first, but it’s probably only moments before Matt would have needed to. It would be easy to miss in the dim light, especially when his gaze stays serious and severe, but there’s a very small amount of color on Tezcatlipoca’s cheeks. He’s just a little bit flustered. ]
Yeah, that works.
[ Is that a “thank you”? Who knows, honestly, because he removes his tail from where it’s partially embedded into the ground to whip out behind him and slash through another shadow that had been slipping closer. He keeps one hand on his side, since it’s a wound that might not be bleeding, but it throbs painfully with every heartbeat. Even so, he stands without wavering. His voice is still terse, but not nearly so thick as it had been before. ]
Let’s get goin’, unless you got other ideas. Another one of those and one of us is gonna be eatin’ the pavement, I figure.
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... Yeah, [ Matt agrees. Whatever may be going on beneath the surface, he's relieved to see Tezcatlipoca stand so smoothly under his own power. Matt's a good deal wobblier as he pushes himself off the ground. The pulse of the light overhead has turned a little erratic--it burns brighter from the kiss for a moment, but ebbs lower in its wake. Matt staggers to catch up with Tezcatlipoca, adding for the shadows' benefit, ] Back the fuck up.
[ This comes out more like an annoyed mutter than a badass proclamation. But you know, it's been a long night all of a sudden.
Matt offers Tezcatlipoca his arm, which is kind of delusional because Matt's swaying more than he is. ]
Home? [ The house he inherited from Sebastian, he means. ] Or do you need a medical professional?
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Woah there— You’re the one that needs me, punk.
[ In a way, Tezcatlipoca does take his arm. He dips low so that it’s set over his shoulders, and with a grunt of effort, he starts to step quickly to lead their retreat. He can bear some of Matt’s weight, and though his breath is heavier with exertion, he’s keeping the way it hurts to himself. ]
Yeah, home. You gotta rest up. I’ll be fine.
[ …He does need a medical professional, but. He doesn’t expect someone they find quick to be able to do much. He’s either going to go hit Silco up to see what kind of sketchy fucks he knows or take the quicker “reset” out, but that’s nothing Matt needs to worry about in his book.
It at least doesn’t take long for them to get out of the darker alleys and into some of the magically lit main streets. It’s at that point that Tezcatlipoca’s odd armor seems to turn to smoke, and it leaves behind the outfit that Matt is more used to seeing, sans sunglasses. Yet as odd as that transition is, it also feels like removing a weight from Matt himself. That drain on his magic is still there, but it’s significantly less. ]
C’mon. [ Tezcatlipoca adjusts Matt’s arm on his shoulders with a grunt now that there’s not the collar of the armor in the way. ] …Where’re you stayin’, anyways?
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i am SO SORRY
devours
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1/2
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1/2 again (but stupider this time)
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