[ 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?
[ It starts off intending to be hey, or perhaps how dare you, as Tezcatlipoca jiujitsus his offer of help right back around on him. But as soon as he takes that bit of his weight, Matt finds that despite his best intentions, he can't bring himself to pull away. ]
"Punk"? [ he protests, in a wry murmur. ] Whatever happened to "pretty boy"?
[ And after he gave him such a nice kiss!
Matt feels a great deal better under the gleam of streetlights. He used lights like this at home in some of his anti-crime spells; something about them feels like being under a bright aura of protection. Though Tezacatlipoca's shift also helps: both physically, in making him more comfortable to lean against as they walk, and in a slightly more diaphanous way. Matt's not sure how to describe it, but the flow of his magic feels a little bit easier, despite his exhaustion. His steps feel lighter. ]
It's this way. [ He points. ] Not far. I've been sticking pretty close to home.
[ Matt has opinions about who needs rest and medical attention around here, but for the moment, he's content to pilot them back to his place. ]
[ That wry comment only gets a huff in response, because he knows anything else would be too telling… Matt is a punk in this case solely because he’s dented Tezcatlipoca’s pride a bit. He had denied that he’d protect Matt, sure, but getting it turned back on him a bit instead is… embarrassing, frankly. Like, he’s still a god, for fuck’s sake. It’s not his fault that human bodies are so damn fragile.
(Or: he’s grateful but expressing that is complicated and new.)
Tezcatlipoca nods and starts to head in the direction that Matt indicates. It’s a little quicker than a walk, but not a full-on jog. ]
…This is a nice part of town, ain’t it? You live around here?
[ He can’t help but comment, since he notices the finer buildings as they go. He wouldn’t have guessed this is where Matt would have picked to live, but he also doesn’t know that “picked” isn’t the right word for it. But Tezcatlipoca also isn't living anywhere in Highstorm so much as either sleeping in they Beyond or couch-surfing, so. Take his opinions with a grain of salt. ]
Oh, I get it, [ Matt says, into the huffy not-really-silence. His brain feels like it's floating away from his body a little bit, but his tone is amused. ] You don't think I'm pretty anymore.
[ Sorry Tezca. If it helps, this level of emboldening is a sign of trust. (It's also a sign of exhaustion and anemia, but stuff can be two things.)
For a moment, Matt's occupied just keeping pace with Tezcatlipoca. He's hustling a little faster than Matt would prefer, but he can appreciate the value of getting inside and getting something to drink. Getting some rest. Now that the immediate danger has passed, the chill Matt felt before is really starting to sink in. ]
Most parts of town are nice around here, I think, [ Matt says. Meaning Highstorm as a whole rather than this specific neighborhood, but the distinction may not be clear. ] The architecture is really beautiful. But uh ... I'm in kind of a unique housing situation. My friend was letting me crash with him, and then he switched sides ...
Yeah, you keep mouthin’ off and I’m gonna be the one makin’ you ugly, fucker.
[ Unfortunately, casual threats are probably a sign of trust from Tezcatlipoca too… At least he’s not able to follow through at the moment. Or, more annoyingly, bite Matt’s face (again). It may also be the most roundabout, back-handed compliment to say that he does think Matt is cute, so. You truly can’t win with him.
He clicks his tongue at the explanation, but this annoyance is a little bit pettier. ]
What, really? That easy? Fuck, if that’s how it works, should’ve been crashin’ with your guy. [ too bad that is ♥impossible♥, tezca ] It's annoying as hell findin' a place when I'm crashin' over here instead of Kowloon.
You should stay with me. [ That's easy, automatic. Spoken with a small, sweet smile, lingering since fucker. ] If you want, anyway. I'd appreciate the company; it's legitimately more room than I know what to do with in there.
[ And fortunately, Matt wasn't overstating the case when he said he's been staying close to home. It's only a few more turns down pleasant, well-lit streets, and only a little walking after that, to reach the door of the well-appointed townhouse that Matt still thinks of as Sebastian's.
Matt fumbles with the key a little more than is strictly suave. His fingers are less steady than he expects. Maybe he should eat something. ]
Kitchen's in the back, [ he suggests, once they're safely inside. ] We should--I mean, I need something to drink.
[ He'd love to fall asleep right in the hallway--maybe the parlor, to be fancy. But he's compelled to see to at least a handful of practicalities. Fluids, food. Checking on Tezcatlipoca's injuries. ]
[ He’d been complaining kind of for the sake of complaining. Being a bit transient suited him, so he hadn’t been in a rush to find a solution. But this doesn’t fluster him, at least. He’s just a bit taken aback by the offer, which might be surprising, considering Tezcatlipoca had opened his (significantly shittier) home in Kowloon to Matt. ]
That— Yeah, that’d be good.
[ His acceptance isn’t nearly as heated as his complaining, but his focus turns elsewhere as they approach the door and Tezcatlipoca sees what he’s agreed to. He pulls away a bit so that Matt can use the keys, and he’s quick to nosily step inside and look around. ]
Woah… This place is nice-nice.
[ Or: jackpot. He at least continues to bear some of Matt’s weight until they get to the kitchen. He pulls out a chair with his foot, then untangles himself so he can push Matt towards the chair. He grunts at the motion and holds his breath for a moment, but his hand goes to his side again as he rubs it soothingly. Because of his short shirt, the light discoloration is visible, but it doesn’t look that bad. Yet. It’ll be an ugly bruise in a day or two. ]
[ Matt chuckles, a little embarrassed. It figures that after years and years, shitty apartments in multiple states, and low-key disownment, he'd end up back in a house his parents would approve of. Zero starving-philosopher street cred.
He says oof when Tezcatlipoca shoves him towards the chair, but sits without complaint. At the signs of strain, his gaze cuts to Tezca's side, but Matt's expression quickly melts into a look of relief and surprise. He's no healer, but that injury looks way less bad than he feared it'd be. ]
Water drink. [ Fond, amused. ] Alcohol's dehydrating, I can't have any until the room stops spinning. [ And he adds, pointing to one of the glossy cabinets, ] Glasses are up there.
[ Matt intends to give Tezcatlipoca more time to get his bearings. But it's honestly heroic that he's gone this long without asking. Folding his arms over his chest to try and keep some warmth in, he says: ]
[ Tezcatlipoca mumbles a noise that might be disapproval for Matt picking the healthy (re: correct) option, but obediently shuffles to the cabinet. He grabs two glasses, then heads to the sink, but he’s opening other cabinets along the way that look like they could have liquor in them. He is not taking the healthier option, but he’s also planning to irresponsibly use a few shots as a painkiller. So. ]
…Well. More than I expected for a kidney, not gonna lie.
[ Thus removing any mystery of what was in that sphere, but also probably more alarming to Matt. Whatever. Tezcatlipoca doesn’t pause and just turns on the faucet to fill up Matt’s glass as he continues rummaging nearby. ]
But it’s, uh… interpretive, I guess is the word for it. And I can’t give you my thoughts on that. [ There’s weight in the word “can’t” that implies more than wanting to or not. ] So, you down for getting’ a brain blast? Least Communion makes it easy to just show ya.
[ Matt definitely blanches at the word "kidney." He can't remember how bad that is. Like, people can definitely live without one, but there's normally dialysis and donations and other mitigating efforts going on in those cases.
Should he mind-text Gavial and ask her ...?
In the meantime, Matt isn't sure what Tezcatlipoca's looking for, but decides that letting him prowl around is the better part of valor. Lucky for him that Matt does keep plenty of liquor around, as well as some wine he picked up the last time he was in Alenroux.
And lucky, perhaps, that Matt has a rather one-track mind at the moment. ]
Yes, [ he answers without hesitating. A small smile. ] Lay it on me.
[ He mutters to himself as he reaches inside the liquor cabinet. His fingers dance over the bottles in consideration, but eventually, he just picks whiskey. Goes down easy, he figures. He pulls out the bottle, and after another moment of consideration, he fills up his glass with water too. Like, fuck it. He’ll just drink out of the bottle, and he can have some water too.
Tezcatlipoca returns to the table and kicks out a chair for himself, but compared to the rough way he’s been scrounging through the kitchen, he sets the water down for Matt more carefully. ]
Yeah, it’s a doozy. You might change your might about the liquor.
[ He says it as he screws off the top of the bottle and takes a seat for himself. He opens his mind right as he takes a pleasantly burning drink of that whiskey.
First, Matt is a god.
That’s just being Tezcatlipoca at that moment that divinity had coursed through him again. It’s vast and powerful, and even the agony of having just ripped out his own organ feels like a shadow of itself. He’s disconnected from his body. He is more than his body. He’s the night wind rustling through the trees in the Beyond. A shadow cast by a streetlamp as someone runs by in a faraway street. He’s the magic that thrums in Matt’s hand to cast light. He is everything within this island, and the omniscience feels like a sigh.
He looks down at the tiny people hovering near a shadow. He’s looking at himself and Matt. And simultaneously, he’s looking up into his own bright blue eyes. He is the darkness too. Like extending a hand into dark water, his consciousness dips deeper. A void greets him, and in the same way he simply Knows that someone had just tripped and skinned their knee by the Tomes, he Knows. This is endless. It can reach any star, any parallel world. It’s the space in between.
Second, it reaches out.
It’s like it sees Tezcatlipoca in the void, and it seeps into him. It’s been following his thoughts. It rummages through his memories, all too indistinct to pick out in the moment. But Tezcatlipoca takes from it, too. In an instant, he experiences how it seeped into a world, hollowed it out, ate it. How it pries open souls like they were ripe fruits and savors the rage and resolve within. It has no feeling for doing so. No pride, no ego. It is bottomless hunger that only wants to consume. It can. It will. Its intangible, but it’s like oil dripping through every pore and vein as it dips in further to taste his emotions.
So, he offers it what he has.
He jettisons that core of divinity that was his organ, his brief omniscience, out into the void. He feels surprised and ravenous as his attention focuses on it— But, right. Those feelings are not his own.
And like a sharp whipcrack, it all ends. Here they are, sitting in a kitchen, and compared the lightness of divinity, a human body feels terribly heavy and painful now. It’s Tezcatlipoca’s cue to groan in displeasure and immediately take another burning drink of the whiskey he’s stolen. ]
[ The connection between them severs--Matt honestly can't tell whether he's the one who ends the communion or if Tezcatlipoca does it. For a moment, the room spins. He's cold. And dread seizes his heart, the kind of terror he's only felt in the throes of childhood nightmares. He'd wake up crying in that big, hollow-halled house, and inevitably, it wasn't his mother or father who comforted him, but his nine-year-old sister.
This thing is going to eat them all. It'll devour him with a completeness Vincent could only have dreamed of. Matt looks across the table to Tezcatlipoca, swallowing dryly.
I don't know how to fight this.
Even in his head, it sounds too small. Too childlike. He can't say that. Matt breathes in; lets it out. He reaches for his water glass and takes a slow sip. ]
I thought it was taunting us, when it looked like Cyrus. [ His tone is steadier than his hands right now. Soft. ] Probably a mistake on my part. Projecting my own feelings. [ Like projecting emotions or motive onto animals. It's surprisingly easy to graft human intention onto a set of survival instincts, like reading a phony fortune in the wet muck of tea leaves.
This is what Matt wanted, of course. A better understanding. ]
[ Fuck, the second time around, any adrenaline he might have built up isn’t taking the edge off. He might not be bleeding out this time (a detail Matt doesn’t need to know about the first time), but every breath and beat of his heart reminds him of the absence. He probably should have said yes to the medical attention, but only to steal some pills that could just make him unconscious. Too late now, though. He can feel sweat forming on his brow, and that’s at least a point for him to take that glass of water after all and take a drink.
…Matt will need a second anyways. He knows that.
Plenty of gods would have refused to share that experience with him. He’s sure Quetzalcoatl would have, for example. It’s for their own good, they’d say, and the sentiment is probably kind, but it’s paternalistic. That’s not the kind of god Tezcatlipoca is. He pushes people, whether they want it or not, because he’s conflict. Most people interpret that to mean the physical sort, and that’s what makes him and Set akin to brothers. However, it’s this kind of conflict he oversees the most dutifully. ]
…Sounded like a taunt, to be fair. But don’t think it had that kinda feeling, yeah.
[ Tezcatlipoca pats at his side automatically for his cigarettes, but clicks his tongue when he remembers that he hadn’t brought them. This hadn’t been his plan for the night, exactly. ]
That’s Ultimate Ones for ya. [ It’s a term from his world, but it works well enough here, he thinks. Conceptually, it’s about the same. ] They ain’t living things. This one’s interested in ‘em, though.
[ He makes a thoughtful noise, then takes another (un)healthy swig of whiskey before looking at Matt. His gaze is cool, but intense, and he’s openly appraising him for something. But what, he doesn’t say. The long moment goes without comment, and he reaches his hand out across the table. He beckons lazily, a clear request for Matt’s hand. ]
[ Ultimate Ones. That sounds right to Matt, insofar as anything does right now. Ultimate as in final, as in a fundamental fact. Existential ultimatum.
Tezcatlipoca reaches out to him, and Matt's fingers uncurl from his glass to take his hand. Matt's skin has definitely been warmer than it is right now, his touch surer, but the contact still soothes him. Like a bright rope of connection amid the silent sea he's suddenly found himself in. Matt looks up, meeting Tezcatlipoca's weighing gaze with his own muddy hazel eyes. The look in them is puzzled, pained, frantic to come up with some kind of solution--until he gets a better look at Tezcatlipoca, and concern for him once again flutters across his face. ]
No, [ Matt says. There's no hesitation there, not a hint of trying to deceive. ] I want to know the truth. Even if there's nothing I can do ...
Which. I hope there is. And I don't think I can give up, in any case. But even if there's nothing I can do to change any of this, I'd still rather know.
[ It’s casual and nothing that Tezcatlipoca draws any special attention to, but he grips Matt’s hand in return securely. His hand is softer now too compared to the more roughly calloused ones of donning his armor. It’s not just clothing that changes with whatever that process is, apparently. There’s still the callouses that come from his love of guns, but it’s still a gentler touch than the king of jaguars.
His attention stays on Matt too as he answers, though that look of concern does make him want to look away. He still brushes it off by not acknowledging it, but he’s distracted from it anyways. The certainty of Matt’s answer is what gets him to avert his eyes, somewhat. He breathes out a laugh as he closes his eyes, but otherwise listens patiently.
The serious expression turns to a smile surprisingly easily, and he laughs again at the squeeze and the thanks. It’s hard to tell just where that’s coming from, but Matt probably has a better sense now of why he can be hard to read and at times seemingly contradictory. Even just a moment’s experience of omniscience makes it clear that the way that Tezcatlipoca must think of the world—of people—is fundamentally different. ]
Yeah, I was hopin’ that’d be your answer. If you were just gonna shrug and give up, would’ve saved you the trouble.
[ …Speaking of being fickle. He’s being vague, but that’s definitely a threat? At least it’s not one he’s planning on following through on apparently, but that’s not much better… ]
Can’t give you my opinions, exactly. But so long as you’re down to fight, and seriously, you’ll have the tools I can give.
[ Matt gives Tezcatlipoca a look. He doesn't attempt to deploy Communion, so it's up to Tezca how clearly his underlying emotions read. Those emotions being the complex, yet simultaneously transparent: Threatening to kill me is not the motivational win you think it is.
Matt's quick to soften, at least, whether out of affection or existential anxiety or (as is the truth) a mixture of both. ]
I appreciate the tools you've given so far, [ he says thoughtfully. "Given" in its most harrowing form, even. ] For now, I think ...
Um. I wanna take notes on what you saw, while my impressions are fresh. So I should probably finish this. [ He lifts his glass for a long pull of water. Sets it down with a shiver, and another slight squeeze to Tezcatlipoca's hand. ] But then I'd honestly love to sleep for like. Conservatively twelve hours.
Do you need any more healing? I think I'm pretty much tapped out for the time being, unless we have sex-- [ Which isn't impossible, but feels kind of like using a sieve to bail out a boat. ] But Gavial's a doctor. If she's awake, I'm sure she'd come over and take a look at you.
[ He does look up again in time to catch that look, and, yeah, he gets it. But it’s also just met with a click of his tongue in response. It’s a compliment! Practically! He’d probably complain about it not being seen as that too if not for the conversation at hand, which he can recognize is more important.
Mostly.
It definitely gets his expression to twist into a little frown, but it feels more like pouting than anything critical. He nods to Matt wanting to take notes, since it’s a good idea, then pulls back after the squeeze to give Matt’s hand a supportive pat before he leans back lazily into his chair again. He lifts the whiskey bottle to his lips with a shrug, but he can’t let the technicalities go by without comment. Unfortunately. ]
Yeah, no way that’s gonna work, Loverboy. Mana transfer while you’re close to tapped out just means you’re gonna pass out with your dick in my mouth. Since no way you’re fuckin’ me when I’m down a kidney.
[ This might seem presumptuous about how they would be configured, but. Nasuverse logic just means that you get assigned bottom if you want mana...
Technically, he knows that’s not what Matt means by the offer, but he’s pretty sure that he’d naturally wick it away before he got the chance to recharge and cast the spell. He grumbles, takes another swig (he’s at least a decent way to tipsy, now), then sighs. ]
Fuck it. Yeah, probably. She could at least do somethin’ better to take the edge off, yeah?
[ Despite the medical urgency of the situation, Matt's surprised into a hoarse bark of laughter. ]
I'm not ... totally prepared to cede that point, metaphysically speaking. [ matt you have to stop arguing with gods about this stuff (he won't) ] But I don't think I wanna risk it. So yeah, if you're down, I'll give her a call. [He smiles, small and fond. ] She's a professional.
[ She also has a gigantic fuck-off mace and loves fighting more than anyone he's ever met, so if she and Tezcatlipoca haven't met yet, they really should. Even if this isn't exactly the cute friend introduction that Matt might normally strive for.
He takes another long drink from his glass, nearly managing to drain it. ]
In the meantime ... my notebooks are upstairs. And I'm kinda cold. How do you feel about relocating? You can bring that with you.
[ Tezcatlipoca at least laughs a little too, though he shakes his head. ]
Yeah, well, we can prove you wrong another time, punk.
[ It seems like Matt has a solid new entry in the nickname rolodex here… But he nods to Matt calling Gavial, then ends up standing once he mentions relocating. ]
Oh, woah— [ He laughs, since standing comes with the little lightheaded swirl from standing for that first time when you’re a little drunker than you thought. ] Yeah, let’s get upstairs.
[ He at least grabs his glass of water and starts to chug it, but he holds out his other hand for Matt to take to help him up. Once the water is drained, he definitely recollects the bottle, though. He’ll stop downing it for a bit, but it’s more for if he wants it later. ]
That a request to cuddle, by the way?
[ His tone is definitely joking and teasing Matt, but. Just based on past experiences, it's not like Tezcatlipoca is opposed, clearly. ]
Oh my gosh, cuddling, I hadn't even thought of that. [ From his tone (and his cheeky little grin), Matt is absolutely lying. He accepts Tezcatlipoca's help getting up, though after that little whoa, he tries to make sure he's got his feet fully under him before he stands. Matt snatches up his glass before they leave the kitchen; he can refill it upstairs. ] Now that you mention it, that sounds pretty nice ...
[ Back down the hall they go, this time hanging a left to take the stairs. Matt calls Gavial on the way up, not wanting to waste any time, so he's a little bit distracted as he leads them past the erstwhile guest rooms (now spellcasting rooms) and to his bedroom door.
Matt's room is no longer a functional greenhouse festooned with paper stars. But he liked the little offerings, so he kept a few of them. He can't blame anyone for wanting to reach out to the divine; it's an urge close to his heart, after all. So there's about a bookshelf's worth of plants left, and a tasteful little accent wall of stars.
Matt makes a beeline for the bed. He sits on the edge, setting his glass down and thinking to unbuckle his boots, but the notebook on the bedside tables seizes his attention first. He plucks it up and turns to a fresh page. ]
[ He laughs in return, but otherwise is seemingly content to stay quiet as he follows along. Part of that is because the stairs… Kind of suck. Each step is an inward chorus of ow fuck ow, but he just holds it in. It’s not even trying to seem strong, necessarily… He just doesn’t want Matt to worry about it as much as he would, honestly.
His side is sore and throbbing by the time they make it to the room, and Tezcatlipoca’s eyes immediately fall on the bed, thinking that he’ll go collapse in it, but… He ends up drawn to the plants and the stars. Call it a god’s intuition for being drawn to offerings. He ends up wandering to the wall of stars. He stands there looking at them for enough time that it’s probably surprising. ]
They’re cute.
[ Is apparently his final verdict, but his smile is fond and gentle. Whatever he sees in them, he likes, apparently. So, finally, he walks over to the bed as well and seems to realize a problem. So, that gentle fondness doesn’t actually last, since with a grumble, he takes a seat and
very slowly
bends over with a groan to start untying his boots. That is probably the worst place to have to bend his body at the moment, and he is really regretting the high, lace-up boots at the moment. When the phrase “suffer for fashion” comes to mind, this wasn’t exactly what he was thinking. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
... 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?
no subject
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?
no subject
[ It starts off intending to be hey, or perhaps how dare you, as Tezcatlipoca jiujitsus his offer of help right back around on him. But as soon as he takes that bit of his weight, Matt finds that despite his best intentions, he can't bring himself to pull away. ]
"Punk"? [ he protests, in a wry murmur. ] Whatever happened to "pretty boy"?
[ And after he gave him such a nice kiss!
Matt feels a great deal better under the gleam of streetlights. He used lights like this at home in some of his anti-crime spells; something about them feels like being under a bright aura of protection. Though Tezacatlipoca's shift also helps: both physically, in making him more comfortable to lean against as they walk, and in a slightly more diaphanous way. Matt's not sure how to describe it, but the flow of his magic feels a little bit easier, despite his exhaustion. His steps feel lighter. ]
It's this way. [ He points. ] Not far. I've been sticking pretty close to home.
[ Matt has opinions about who needs rest and medical attention around here, but for the moment, he's content to pilot them back to his place. ]
no subject
(Or: he’s grateful but expressing that is complicated and new.)
Tezcatlipoca nods and starts to head in the direction that Matt indicates. It’s a little quicker than a walk, but not a full-on jog. ]
…This is a nice part of town, ain’t it? You live around here?
[ He can’t help but comment, since he notices the finer buildings as they go. He wouldn’t have guessed this is where Matt would have picked to live, but he also doesn’t know that “picked” isn’t the right word for it. But Tezcatlipoca also isn't living anywhere in Highstorm so much as either sleeping in they Beyond or couch-surfing, so. Take his opinions with a grain of salt. ]
no subject
[ Sorry Tezca. If it helps, this level of emboldening is a sign of trust. (It's also a sign of exhaustion and anemia, but stuff can be two things.)
For a moment, Matt's occupied just keeping pace with Tezcatlipoca. He's hustling a little faster than Matt would prefer, but he can appreciate the value of getting inside and getting something to drink. Getting some rest. Now that the immediate danger has passed, the chill Matt felt before is really starting to sink in. ]
Most parts of town are nice around here, I think, [ Matt says. Meaning Highstorm as a whole rather than this specific neighborhood, but the distinction may not be clear. ] The architecture is really beautiful. But uh ... I'm in kind of a unique housing situation. My friend was letting me crash with him, and then he switched sides ...
And they just kinda gave me the house.
no subject
[ Unfortunately, casual threats are probably a sign of trust from Tezcatlipoca too… At least he’s not able to follow through at the moment. Or, more annoyingly, bite Matt’s face (again). It may also be the most roundabout, back-handed compliment to say that he does think Matt is cute, so. You truly can’t win with him.
He clicks his tongue at the explanation, but this annoyance is a little bit pettier. ]
What, really? That easy? Fuck, if that’s how it works, should’ve been crashin’ with your guy. [ too bad that is ♥impossible♥, tezca ] It's annoying as hell findin' a place when I'm crashin' over here instead of Kowloon.
no subject
[ And fortunately, Matt wasn't overstating the case when he said he's been staying close to home. It's only a few more turns down pleasant, well-lit streets, and only a little walking after that, to reach the door of the well-appointed townhouse that Matt still thinks of as Sebastian's.
Matt fumbles with the key a little more than is strictly suave. His fingers are less steady than he expects. Maybe he should eat something. ]
Kitchen's in the back, [ he suggests, once they're safely inside. ] We should--I mean, I need something to drink.
[ He'd love to fall asleep right in the hallway--maybe the parlor, to be fancy. But he's compelled to see to at least a handful of practicalities. Fluids, food. Checking on Tezcatlipoca's injuries. ]
no subject
[ He’d been complaining kind of for the sake of complaining. Being a bit transient suited him, so he hadn’t been in a rush to find a solution. But this doesn’t fluster him, at least. He’s just a bit taken aback by the offer, which might be surprising, considering Tezcatlipoca had opened his (significantly shittier) home in Kowloon to Matt. ]
That— Yeah, that’d be good.
[ His acceptance isn’t nearly as heated as his complaining, but his focus turns elsewhere as they approach the door and Tezcatlipoca sees what he’s agreed to. He pulls away a bit so that Matt can use the keys, and he’s quick to nosily step inside and look around. ]
Woah… This place is nice-nice.
[ Or: jackpot. He at least continues to bear some of Matt’s weight until they get to the kitchen. He pulls out a chair with his foot, then untangles himself so he can push Matt towards the chair. He grunts at the motion and holds his breath for a moment, but his hand goes to his side again as he rubs it soothingly. Because of his short shirt, the light discoloration is visible, but it doesn’t look that bad. Yet. It’ll be an ugly bruise in a day or two. ]
Like, water-drink or shots-drink?
no subject
He says oof when Tezcatlipoca shoves him towards the chair, but sits without complaint. At the signs of strain, his gaze cuts to Tezca's side, but Matt's expression quickly melts into a look of relief and surprise. He's no healer, but that injury looks way less bad than he feared it'd be. ]
Water drink. [ Fond, amused. ] Alcohol's dehydrating, I can't have any until the room stops spinning. [ And he adds, pointing to one of the glossy cabinets, ] Glasses are up there.
[ Matt intends to give Tezcatlipoca more time to get his bearings. But it's honestly heroic that he's gone this long without asking. Folding his arms over his chest to try and keep some warmth in, he says: ]
What did you see?
no subject
…Well. More than I expected for a kidney, not gonna lie.
[ Thus removing any mystery of what was in that sphere, but also probably more alarming to Matt. Whatever. Tezcatlipoca doesn’t pause and just turns on the faucet to fill up Matt’s glass as he continues rummaging nearby. ]
But it’s, uh… interpretive, I guess is the word for it. And I can’t give you my thoughts on that. [ There’s weight in the word “can’t” that implies more than wanting to or not. ] So, you down for getting’ a brain blast? Least Communion makes it easy to just show ya.
no subject
Should he mind-text Gavial and ask her ...?
In the meantime, Matt isn't sure what Tezcatlipoca's looking for, but decides that letting him prowl around is the better part of valor. Lucky for him that Matt does keep plenty of liquor around, as well as some wine he picked up the last time he was in Alenroux.
And lucky, perhaps, that Matt has a rather one-track mind at the moment. ]
Yes, [ he answers without hesitating. A small smile. ] Lay it on me.
no subject
[ He mutters to himself as he reaches inside the liquor cabinet. His fingers dance over the bottles in consideration, but eventually, he just picks whiskey. Goes down easy, he figures. He pulls out the bottle, and after another moment of consideration, he fills up his glass with water too. Like, fuck it. He’ll just drink out of the bottle, and he can have some water too.
Tezcatlipoca returns to the table and kicks out a chair for himself, but compared to the rough way he’s been scrounging through the kitchen, he sets the water down for Matt more carefully. ]
Yeah, it’s a doozy. You might change your might about the liquor.
[ He says it as he screws off the top of the bottle and takes a seat for himself. He opens his mind right as he takes a pleasantly burning drink of that whiskey.
First, Matt is a god.
That’s just being Tezcatlipoca at that moment that divinity had coursed through him again. It’s vast and powerful, and even the agony of having just ripped out his own organ feels like a shadow of itself. He’s disconnected from his body. He is more than his body. He’s the night wind rustling through the trees in the Beyond. A shadow cast by a streetlamp as someone runs by in a faraway street. He’s the magic that thrums in Matt’s hand to cast light. He is everything within this island, and the omniscience feels like a sigh.
He looks down at the tiny people hovering near a shadow. He’s looking at himself and Matt. And simultaneously, he’s looking up into his own bright blue eyes. He is the darkness too. Like extending a hand into dark water, his consciousness dips deeper. A void greets him, and in the same way he simply Knows that someone had just tripped and skinned their knee by the Tomes, he Knows. This is endless. It can reach any star, any parallel world. It’s the space in between.
Second, it reaches out.
It’s like it sees Tezcatlipoca in the void, and it seeps into him. It’s been following his thoughts. It rummages through his memories, all too indistinct to pick out in the moment. But Tezcatlipoca takes from it, too. In an instant, he experiences how it seeped into a world, hollowed it out, ate it. How it pries open souls like they were ripe fruits and savors the rage and resolve within. It has no feeling for doing so. No pride, no ego. It is bottomless hunger that only wants to consume. It can. It will. Its intangible, but it’s like oil dripping through every pore and vein as it dips in further to taste his emotions.
So, he offers it what he has.
He jettisons that core of divinity that was his organ, his brief omniscience, out into the void. He feels surprised and ravenous as his attention focuses on it— But, right. Those feelings are not his own.
And like a sharp whipcrack, it all ends. Here they are, sitting in a kitchen, and compared the lightness of divinity, a human body feels terribly heavy and painful now. It’s Tezcatlipoca’s cue to groan in displeasure and immediately take another burning drink of the whiskey he’s stolen. ]
no subject
This thing is going to eat them all. It'll devour him with a completeness Vincent could only have dreamed of. Matt looks across the table to Tezcatlipoca, swallowing dryly.
I don't know how to fight this.
Even in his head, it sounds too small. Too childlike. He can't say that. Matt breathes in; lets it out. He reaches for his water glass and takes a slow sip. ]
I thought it was taunting us, when it looked like Cyrus. [ His tone is steadier than his hands right now. Soft. ] Probably a mistake on my part. Projecting my own feelings. [ Like projecting emotions or motive onto animals. It's surprisingly easy to graft human intention onto a set of survival instincts, like reading a phony fortune in the wet muck of tea leaves.
This is what Matt wanted, of course. A better understanding. ]
no subject
…Matt will need a second anyways. He knows that.
Plenty of gods would have refused to share that experience with him. He’s sure Quetzalcoatl would have, for example. It’s for their own good, they’d say, and the sentiment is probably kind, but it’s paternalistic. That’s not the kind of god Tezcatlipoca is. He pushes people, whether they want it or not, because he’s conflict. Most people interpret that to mean the physical sort, and that’s what makes him and Set akin to brothers. However, it’s this kind of conflict he oversees the most dutifully. ]
…Sounded like a taunt, to be fair. But don’t think it had that kinda feeling, yeah.
[ Tezcatlipoca pats at his side automatically for his cigarettes, but clicks his tongue when he remembers that he hadn’t brought them. This hadn’t been his plan for the night, exactly. ]
That’s Ultimate Ones for ya. [ It’s a term from his world, but it works well enough here, he thinks. Conceptually, it’s about the same. ] They ain’t living things. This one’s interested in ‘em, though.
[ He makes a thoughtful noise, then takes another (un)healthy swig of whiskey before looking at Matt. His gaze is cool, but intense, and he’s openly appraising him for something. But what, he doesn’t say. The long moment goes without comment, and he reaches his hand out across the table. He beckons lazily, a clear request for Matt’s hand. ]
You regret knowin’?
no subject
Tezcatlipoca reaches out to him, and Matt's fingers uncurl from his glass to take his hand. Matt's skin has definitely been warmer than it is right now, his touch surer, but the contact still soothes him. Like a bright rope of connection amid the silent sea he's suddenly found himself in. Matt looks up, meeting Tezcatlipoca's weighing gaze with his own muddy hazel eyes. The look in them is puzzled, pained, frantic to come up with some kind of solution--until he gets a better look at Tezcatlipoca, and concern for him once again flutters across his face. ]
No, [ Matt says. There's no hesitation there, not a hint of trying to deceive. ] I want to know the truth. Even if there's nothing I can do ...
Which. I hope there is. And I don't think I can give up, in any case. But even if there's nothing I can do to change any of this, I'd still rather know.
[ He squeezes Tezca's hand gently. ]
Thank you for showing me. And for looking.
no subject
His attention stays on Matt too as he answers, though that look of concern does make him want to look away. He still brushes it off by not acknowledging it, but he’s distracted from it anyways. The certainty of Matt’s answer is what gets him to avert his eyes, somewhat. He breathes out a laugh as he closes his eyes, but otherwise listens patiently.
The serious expression turns to a smile surprisingly easily, and he laughs again at the squeeze and the thanks. It’s hard to tell just where that’s coming from, but Matt probably has a better sense now of why he can be hard to read and at times seemingly contradictory. Even just a moment’s experience of omniscience makes it clear that the way that Tezcatlipoca must think of the world—of people—is fundamentally different. ]
Yeah, I was hopin’ that’d be your answer. If you were just gonna shrug and give up, would’ve saved you the trouble.
[ …Speaking of being fickle. He’s being vague, but that’s definitely a threat? At least it’s not one he’s planning on following through on apparently, but that’s not much better… ]
Can’t give you my opinions, exactly. But so long as you’re down to fight, and seriously, you’ll have the tools I can give.
no subject
Matt's quick to soften, at least, whether out of affection or existential anxiety or (as is the truth) a mixture of both. ]
I appreciate the tools you've given so far, [ he says thoughtfully. "Given" in its most harrowing form, even. ] For now, I think ...
Um. I wanna take notes on what you saw, while my impressions are fresh. So I should probably finish this. [ He lifts his glass for a long pull of water. Sets it down with a shiver, and another slight squeeze to Tezcatlipoca's hand. ] But then I'd honestly love to sleep for like. Conservatively twelve hours.
Do you need any more healing? I think I'm pretty much tapped out for the time being, unless we have sex-- [ Which isn't impossible, but feels kind of like using a sieve to bail out a boat. ] But Gavial's a doctor. If she's awake, I'm sure she'd come over and take a look at you.
no subject
Mostly.
It definitely gets his expression to twist into a little frown, but it feels more like pouting than anything critical. He nods to Matt wanting to take notes, since it’s a good idea, then pulls back after the squeeze to give Matt’s hand a supportive pat before he leans back lazily into his chair again. He lifts the whiskey bottle to his lips with a shrug, but he can’t let the technicalities go by without comment. Unfortunately. ]
Yeah, no way that’s gonna work, Loverboy. Mana transfer while you’re close to tapped out just means you’re gonna pass out with your dick in my mouth. Since no way you’re fuckin’ me when I’m down a kidney.
[ This might seem presumptuous about how they would be configured, but. Nasuverse logic just means that you get assigned bottom if you want mana...
Technically, he knows that’s not what Matt means by the offer, but he’s pretty sure that he’d naturally wick it away before he got the chance to recharge and cast the spell. He grumbles, takes another swig (he’s at least a decent way to tipsy, now), then sighs. ]
Fuck it. Yeah, probably. She could at least do somethin’ better to take the edge off, yeah?
no subject
I'm not ... totally prepared to cede that point, metaphysically speaking. [ matt you have to stop arguing with gods about this stuff (he won't) ] But I don't think I wanna risk it. So yeah, if you're down, I'll give her a call. [He smiles, small and fond. ] She's a professional.
[ She also has a gigantic fuck-off mace and loves fighting more than anyone he's ever met, so if she and Tezcatlipoca haven't met yet, they really should. Even if this isn't exactly the cute friend introduction that Matt might normally strive for.
He takes another long drink from his glass, nearly managing to drain it. ]
In the meantime ... my notebooks are upstairs. And I'm kinda cold. How do you feel about relocating? You can bring that with you.
[ A nod, indicating the whiskey bottle. ]
no subject
Yeah, well, we can prove you wrong another time, punk.
[ It seems like Matt has a solid new entry in the nickname rolodex here… But he nods to Matt calling Gavial, then ends up standing once he mentions relocating. ]
Oh, woah— [ He laughs, since standing comes with the little lightheaded swirl from standing for that first time when you’re a little drunker than you thought. ] Yeah, let’s get upstairs.
[ He at least grabs his glass of water and starts to chug it, but he holds out his other hand for Matt to take to help him up. Once the water is drained, he definitely recollects the bottle, though. He’ll stop downing it for a bit, but it’s more for if he wants it later. ]
That a request to cuddle, by the way?
[ His tone is definitely joking and teasing Matt, but. Just based on past experiences, it's not like Tezcatlipoca is opposed, clearly. ]
no subject
[ Back down the hall they go, this time hanging a left to take the stairs. Matt calls Gavial on the way up, not wanting to waste any time, so he's a little bit distracted as he leads them past the erstwhile guest rooms (now spellcasting rooms) and to his bedroom door.
Matt's room is no longer a functional greenhouse festooned with paper stars. But he liked the little offerings, so he kept a few of them. He can't blame anyone for wanting to reach out to the divine; it's an urge close to his heart, after all. So there's about a bookshelf's worth of plants left, and a tasteful little accent wall of stars.
Matt makes a beeline for the bed. He sits on the edge, setting his glass down and thinking to unbuckle his boots, but the notebook on the bedside tables seizes his attention first. He plucks it up and turns to a fresh page. ]
no subject
[ He laughs in return, but otherwise is seemingly content to stay quiet as he follows along. Part of that is because the stairs… Kind of suck. Each step is an inward chorus of ow fuck ow, but he just holds it in. It’s not even trying to seem strong, necessarily… He just doesn’t want Matt to worry about it as much as he would, honestly.
His side is sore and throbbing by the time they make it to the room, and Tezcatlipoca’s eyes immediately fall on the bed, thinking that he’ll go collapse in it, but… He ends up drawn to the plants and the stars. Call it a god’s intuition for being drawn to offerings. He ends up wandering to the wall of stars. He stands there looking at them for enough time that it’s probably surprising. ]
They’re cute.
[ Is apparently his final verdict, but his smile is fond and gentle. Whatever he sees in them, he likes, apparently. So, finally, he walks over to the bed as well and seems to realize a problem. So, that gentle fondness doesn’t actually last, since with a grumble, he takes a seat and
very slowly
bends over with a groan to start untying his boots. That is probably the worst place to have to bend his body at the moment, and he is really regretting the high, lace-up boots at the moment. When the phrase “suffer for fashion” comes to mind, this wasn’t exactly what he was thinking. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
i am SO SORRY
devours
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2 again (but stupider this time)
(no subject)
(no subject)