[ That said under his breath as he takes in Tezca's blood-spattered appearance. Though what Matt's really worried about isn't some bloody nose. He watches Tezcatlipoca sharply for a moment; but seeing the ease with which he throws himself down, how quickly he takes off his boots, Matt relaxes a bit. ]
We should get somebody to just dye your clothes red and cut to the chase, [ he notes dryly. ] Although I guess dressing in black achieves the same goal ...
You met Flat?
[ There's a tinge of hope in the question. It's probably foolish, but Matt can't help feeling cheered by any signs of Zenith and Meridian members getting along. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca laughs at the dry comment, and after yanking off one boot, he gives a dismissive wave before starting on the other. ]
Yeah, you get it. Black’s my color anyways? Like, literally.
[ It’s probably the strongest visual metaphor that he has. Anyone that knows about Tezcatlipoca tends to have that color come to mind first, and not simply because of the more literal association of being the Black Tezcatlipoca of the four. With smoke, obsidian, and jaguars, it’s a pretty strong tie.
He’s a little surprised that Matt asks about Flat out of everything going on here, but with another chuckle, he nods. ]
Sure did. Pulled his happy ass outta the ground when he got here, in fact. [ Untrue. He watched Flat struggle his way out and did nothing at all. He was there, though. ] He’s a mage from my world, in fact. Well, more or less. Doesn’t matter much, since he’s either from before the world got bleached or he’s from a parallel world, but—
[ He pauses to yank off the other boot, then picks up the bag as he stands and walks in to meet Matt. He looks around when he enters the dining room for a place to set the bag, and with another thunk, he sets it down and starts to shift through it, since there seems to be a few things inside it. ]
Weird kid. Somethin’ ain’t right about him.
[ It’s said with a grin, and while it doesn’t seem like he’s saying it fondly, exactly, it’s certainly with approval…]
[ Matt certainly has other follow-up questions. Or, perhaps more accurately, he has follow-up notions. But he doesn't pursue those for now, opting instead to lean against the dining room table and follow Tezcatlipoca's process with his eyes.
He also decides to focus on the sound rather than the sense of Tezcatlipoca's verdict on Flat. ]
I like him, [ he says with a pleasant nod. He's curious over the fact that they're both from the same world, or close enough to the same one, but he supposes it's not any stranger than some people here having met another version of him. ] He's actually the first person who went looking for shadows with me. I hadn't figured out how to pin them down at that point, but it was kind of necessary experimentation.
[ Yes, Matt could also ask what's my present. But he assumes that reveal is coming imminently. ]
[ Not in any special way, admittedly, but sometimes you just like someone because you want to shake them really hard to see what happens. Or, Tezcatlipoca does.
It’s all he says, though, since his present is more immediately important than Flat. His hand closes around it, and he nods, but he doesn’t pull it out just yet. He looks at Matt first to give a little bit of a preamble. ]
So, was thinkin’ about ya. Honestly, been thinkin’ about this since the first time we met, because you just ain’t well suited to the fightin’ part of this battle. And I don’t mean Oblivion. Know that’s your focus, but you can’t just sit on the sidelines and ignore what’s goin’ on otherwise. Rather, I hate that kinda thinking.
[ It’s why he was deeply bothered by Rudbeckia’s position on the war when they’d talked. If not for Set’s protection and staking claim over her, Tezcatlipoca would have taken things into his own hands immediately. He still had half a mind to do so, but. This was Matt’s chance to step up where she was unwilling to. It’s something of a test, because as soon as he pulls it out, it’s obvious.
He pulls out a pistol and sets it on the table before Matt with that same hearty thunk. ]
Luckily, the modern world’s pretty great. Anyone’s a warrior with these in hand.
[ For a moment, Matt just stares at the gun on the table. ]
I ...
[ A part of him feels like he should have expected this sooner or later. He looks at Tezcatlipoca, then back to the gun. Back to Tezcatlipoca. ]
Thank you. [ Manners first! ] It's, um. It looks easy to carry.
[ He'd say it's sweet of you to think of me, except Matt's not totally sure it is. (He'd also say it's pretty, but that seems like maybe not what people want you to say about firearms.) He pushes off from the table and takes a step towards the pistol, reaching out to brush the barrel with his fingertips. ]
And just to be clear, you want me to ... shoot somebody with this?
[ It’s about the reaction he expected, which is what makes him chuckle. Actually, it does end up slightly better than he expected, because Matt is surprised, sure, but he doesn’t step away from it. That’s a good sign, at least. He would have been disappointed if he’d shied away from it. ]
Well, sure, every pistol’s pretty easy to carry. Unless you get to the ones that are like fuckin’ crazy shootin’ fireballs every time you pull the trigger, but that kinda recoil’s gonna knock your arm outta place.
[ He rattles all that off casually, but rather than continue digging in his bag, he steps up behind Matt and reaches along his arms to set Matt’s hands more firmly on the gun rather than just ghosting along it. And provided Matt doesn’t object, he’ll guide his hands into holding it. Does this have to be something that feels almost intimate? No, not really. But it’s something more important to Tezcatlipoca than it might seem.
…And, you know. Probably also gun kink of his own, if we’re honest. ]
Like it or not, you’re a warrior on a battlefield. Don’t really care if you’re goin’ after someone or just defendin’ yourself. You wanna see tomorrow, you gotta have a weapon in hand when push comes to shove. That’s what it’s for.
[ Whether Tezcatlipoca approaches the matter touch-first because he senses Matt will be receptive, or whether that's a happy accident, it's the right call. Matt doesn't resist being touched, being guided. With Tezca at his back, his shoulders relax from their slightly tensed position, chest opening. He lets Tezcatlipoca curl his fingers around the grip. ]
You know I can make fire with my mind, right? [ Matt says dryly. Though his tone is softer than it was a moment ago. Last time he tried fire in a combat-adjacent scenario, it didn't work out the way he wanted, as the scars on his wrist attest. ] I've been working on sleep spells here and there too. I feel like it'd be hard for someone to land a hit on me while they're unconscious.
And-- [ He turns his head slightly Tezcatlipoca's way. ] --Link's showing me how to use a sword.
[ Did that have to sound so ... sensual? No, it did not. ]
But I'll learn how to use this thing. On one condition.
[ Tezcatlipoca surely understands that Matt is a physical creature at this point, but that wouldn’t have changed his approach. It’s a trait they share, after all, even if the underlying motivation is different. For Tezcatlipoca, touch was always a way to quietly convey what he couldn’t directly. He had a deep affection for people, arguably as deep as Quetzalcoatl’s, because who was the Feathered Serpent made from if not him? But… He wasn’t graced with the ability to be straightforward. Whether that was fate or his own personality was a distinction without meaning.
So, as Matt speaks, Tezcatlipoca moves Matt. He has his hands grip the gun properly, then moves his hands down to support his biceps into the proper position for bracing himself. He knows guns well. Technically speaking, his knowledge was peerless. It was just fate interfering when it came to the demonstration. ]
Hey, I ain’t tellin’ you to stop those. The more you got at your disposal, the better.
[ But he still smirks at Matt slyly at the tone of talking about a sword. He sees you, mister, and maybe that’s why he nestles just a little bit closer. But it could be just as much for that last little bit, really. Is it sensual, or is it a threat? It’s sometimes hard to tell with Tezcatlipoca. ]
You don’t offer conditions to a god. [ It’s a blunt and resolute statement that has weight behind it, and yet— ] But I’ll hear ya, at least.
[ Matt's arms don't waver. But his head dips in a slight nod, a small hm escaping. Acknowledgement. One does not, as a rule, offer conditions to a god.
Still, he can't help swaying back slightly into that lean forward. Matt's body language is purely flirtatious--not a hint of feeling a threat--which likely comes as little surprise at this point. His head is still turned to the side, trying to catch a sideways glimpse of Tezcatlipoca. ]
Let me draw you a bath. [ That's sexier than give you a bath or make you take a bath, right? ] And wash your hair.
I don't know a lot about weapons, but I know you're supposed to take care of them. Seems like the same thing should apply to warriors.
[ Is this totally hypocritical coming from a man who is, as we speak, experiencing worsening anemia? For sure, it definitely is. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca had some ideas immediately in mind for what Matt might have wanted about conditions. Most of them he would have rejected. He imagines things like “I don’t want to use it on someone innocent”, which is bullshit. When it’s your life or someone else’s, there’s no innocent or guilty. There’s survival, and that’s that. So, the glimpse that Matt catches of Tezcatlipoca where his eyes are focused on Matt’s hands, calm and collected and the very picture of “cool”... It doesn’t last long. ]
Wh—
[ He starts what could be a question, but he’s also stunned into further silence as Matt continues. His expression absolutely crumbles into bafflement. ]
I… Uh.
[ Annoyingly, he can’t disagree. In fact, there’s a little twinge of feeling at the phrasing, because it’s startling to have what amounts to one of his much quieter core principles thrown back in his face. ]
That’s… an easy condition. [ It sounds lame as soon as he’s said it, which makes him tense up, then quickly release that tension as he huffs and drops the close contact for the sake of holding up the gun. ] You’re fuckin’ with me. That’s not seriously it.
[ Matt was expecting the revelation of his terms to be met with either relief or annoyance. Getting neither is slightly puzzling in its own right. He turns to regard Tezcatlipoca, setting the gun gently down as he does (pointing guns at people is probably bad). ]
I'm serious, [ he says lightly. ] I said I'd learn how to use a gun; I didn't say I would use it.
[ Even Matt doesn't know how wide the delta will be between knowledge and application, where firing a gun at someone is concerned. But whether he sticks with his current principle of no guns, thanks or becomes some kind of Rambo, learning how they work seems like a good first step. Especially since the gun's going to be in his house either way.
Although a piece of him does wonder how Silco would react if he just, like. Shot him. ]
A bath seemed appropriate for that level of commitment.
[ Ah, there’s the caveat, and thus, there’s the disapproval that Matt had been expecting. Tezcatlipoca’s face twists up in a frown, but at least after he’d been caught off guard it’s not as severe as it could have been. He’s a trickster god, after all. He has to appreciate the maneuver here. ]
Little shit. [ It’s an insult that sounds the same as when Tezcatlipoca calls him a “punk”, aka a begrudging acknowledgement that’s a hair shy of praise. ] Well, take it seriously, then. I’m givin’ you a weapon so you can use it. Easier to carry around a gun than a sword if you get into trouble, right?
[ It’s not complete refusal, which would have made Tezcatlipoca mad, but the half-acceptance doesn’t sit fully well with him either. It feels like they could be the same thing, practically speaking, but… He can at least accept taking the effort to learn it. He’ll give his criticisms later if Matt ends up in a situation where he could use it and still refuses.
For now, though. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, then holds it out as he does indeed see how the blood has matted it together at the end. ]
Well, a gun's definitely lighter, [ Matt agrees, lips twitching for "little shit." He picks up the pistol again, trying to see how well his fingers remember the grip Tezcatlipoca just guided them into. ] A sword's less likely to go off at random, though.
[ Tezcatlipoca is probably destined for eventual disappointment where Matt and guns are concerned. But in one respect, at least, Matt will follow his wishes faithfully: He'll be serious about learning. ]
Mmhmm, [ Matt agrees, re: the niceness of a bath right now. He's already contemplating the essential oils that might be good to use. ] Give me a little time to treat you, and then ...
I mean, I don't know where we'd go to try shooting things, or if there's stuff I need to learn about handling it first. But we can get started as soon as you want.
[ He knows what Matt means, but he’s being a little bit of a pedant just because he loves guns. His safety with them is practically nonexistent, true, but. He understands them extremely well, and it’s part of why that’s what he focuses on. He steps back in to adjust Matt’s grip and stance, but this is from the side rather than the overly intimate way he’d started. ]
So, guess we’ll start with makin’ sure you don’t have it goin’ off because you’re playin’ with the trigger. [ hm, ] Handling it, clearing it, cleaning it, all the technical stuff first. Then we can talk about shootin’. Amos would come with.
[ And, admittedly. He brings up Amos because when he thinks about trying to teach Matt how to shoot, he just imagines it going embarrassingly for him. He can practically see Amos’s slightly disapproving frown in his mind’s eye. Also, Matt potentially getting shot when Tezcatlipoca does his own target practice. So, fine. You win this gun safety round, Amos.
He gives Matt’s shoulder a little pat once he’s settled into a good posture, then returns to the bag to grab another piece of bounty out of it: a bottle of what looks like watery milk, almost. This one is mostly for him, though he’d at least give Matt a taste. ]
…Well, we’ll get to that. [ He gives Matt a little nudge to say that he’s going, then steps past to head towards the bathroom with the tub. ] Not that I’m complainin’, but I can get the blood out, if that’s what you’re worried about.
[ This is just Tezcatlipoca’s contradictory desires rearing their head, though. On one hand, he should absolutely be pampered and tended to—it’s what a god deserves. On the other… Even with that thought in mind, it’s not actually something that Tezcatlipoca had ever demanded or pursued for himself. So, he accepts the offer easily, but it feels a bit strange to do so. ]
[ Tezcatlipoca steps in to adjust him, and though the contact is a lot more practical this time around, Matt follows the guidance as easily as he'd lean into a kiss. A hint of things to come, he hopes to show. A bit of early willingness. Tezcatlipoca pats his shoulder, seeming to approve of where he's ended up, and Matt spends a moment mentally cataloguing the line of his arm. The placement of his feet and his fingers.
He's mildly surprised that Tezcatlipoca's willing to start off with cleaning and handling, rather than live target practice. Grateful, though. And he brightens when Amos' name is mentioned.
Tezcatlipoca heads towards the bathroom. Matt lowers the gun again, gingerly drawing his fingers away from the trigger, and keeps it pointed down as he follows. ]
It's not about thinking you can't clean yourself up, [ he protests, amused. ] I know you can do that. It's just ...
Something I like doing for people. I haven't gotten to in a long time.
[ Or what feels like a long time to him. What is a long time, set against the total length of his life thus far. Not much to an immortal being, of course. ]
[ He huffs out a little laugh, since that’s actually simpler than he expected, but as they turn the corner to head in, it’s easy to see his smile. It’s not dismissive, clearly, but maybe just a little bit amused. Sometimes, he feels like Matt treats him a little too much like he’s a regular person. But it’s nothing he’s voiced because he’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing, honestly. So, his comment ends up neutral and surprisingly compliant. ]
It's nice of you.
[ He shrugs off the coat first and tosses it on the floor casually, which also gives a little peek at something Matt had been trying to quietly figure out earlier. There’s a scar along Tezcatlipoca’s lower side down to his hip that had definitely not been there before their little exploration of Oblivion. It doesn’t look fresh either, though, oddly. ]
I mean, I’m not as hands on as you are, but I get it. Believe it or not, I care as much about makin’ places for relaxation as I do battlefields.
[ Tezcatlipoca leans against the wall expectantly rather than strip down further yet, since, well. It’d be cold, honestly, so he’ll wait for the bath. He does grin cheekily, and sometimes it’s hard to tell when Tezcatlipoca is serious and when he isn’t… But the next part is definitely a joke, for once. ]
[ Matt spares that new (old?) scar a brief glance. It's a curious little paradox, but it seems potentially in keeping with either magic healing or #justgodthings. He'll ask about it later, if the vibes are right. ]
Really, [ he says for the last bit, eyebrows arching. ] So this is why we get along, is what you're saying.
[ He's still got this freaking gun, and he's heard you shouldn't get those wet. So Matt grabs a towel and wraps the pistol in it, then sets it on the sink. From there, he goes to the tub to tinker with the faucets. Louder, over the gush of water: ] Assuming it's not presumptuous of me to say we get along.
[ Tezcatlipoca has no reason to appreciate the difference, but this bathroom has become decidedly witchier since Matt took ownership of the townhouse. Mainly this comes in the form of candles, but there's a few other signs. The odd crystal. Sigils etched onto some of the jars of conditioner, lotion, and assorted unguents on display.
Once Matt's determined the temperature's in a nice spot, he heads over to said unguents and starts sifting through them. ]
[ He laughs as Matt wraps up the gun in the towel and nods towards it. ]
Hey, like I said, it ain’t goin’ off at random. You’re American, ain’t ya? Thought you loved guns.
[ But he gets Matt’s hesitation here, even so. Is he personally inclined to it? Hell no. But he understands that for most people of the modern day, handling a gun casually isn’t a thing. Even for Americans, though he has to tease about it. ]
But, nah, ain’t presumptuous. If we didn’t get along, it’d be crystal clear. Wouldn’t have decided to crash here, for one. Also probably would have shot you at some point.
[ Is that one a joke… No, it is not, but his tone puts it solidly in the uncertain territory. He puts a hand on the wall for balance as he peels off his socks one by one and adds them to the pile, and after a half-moment to consider the options, he answers easily. ]
Let’s go with rose.
[ He picks up the bottle at this point and gives it a shake before he uncorks it and takes a quick swig. Otherwise, he just watches with interest as Matt prepares the bath, but he’s not done with that point about getting along, as it turns out. ]
If it wasn’t for Oblivion, I’d be inclined to whip you into shape. Don’t agree with how you view battle, after all, and refusin’ because of principle is how you end up dead. But you get a little bit of a pass because Oblivion’s somethin’ bigger than killin’ Meri. As long as someone is fighting, they have my favor. [ There’s a tiny bit more formality to that last sentence, but before it can be considered further, he grins cheekily. ] We might’ve been fated to meet, y’know?
[ Sheepish, Matt protests, ] It's to keep moisture out.
[ Maybe guns don't need that kind of consideration?
Anyway, he nods for "rose," plucking up a small vial along with a few other jars. He tips a few drops into a jar of bath salts, then a jar filled with something thick and creamy. ]
I haven't exactly refused to fight when the option's in front of me, [ Matt notes, rolling up his sleeves. Tezcatlipoca has likely had occasion to notice the crisscrossing bite scars on his wrist before now. Matt pours some of the bath salts into the tub, and the room fills with a gentle rose scent. ] I fought for Springstar, when civilians were being attacked. But broadly speaking ... I feel like my dance card's more than full with Oblivion, so I guess you're not wrong there.
[ Matt glances around to the candles. With a quick indrawn breath, a flutter of butterflies in his belly, they light with cheery, yellow-orange flames. His gaze returns to Tezcatlipoca.
[ look they probably do but there’s a non-zero chance that the picture I sent with guns in the fridge actually happens at some point so do NOT ask tezca, ]
[ He laughs gently, though, since the irony of having this kind of conversation when the room is filling with the scent of roses and the flicker of candlelight isn’t lost on him. Which, it’s looking like he’ll get in soon, so he’ll just continue getting undressed at a leisurely pace.
This also shows, you guessed it, more injuries, though none of the rest are as suspicious or severe. There’s a bruise on the opposite side of his ribcage, but it doesn’t look severe. He just clearly got into some kind of fight (or multiple…) while he was out and about on his latest excursion. ]
Well… That’s not quite the fightin’ I look for. Protecting innocents, preventing bloodshed, that ain’t “conflict”, is it? In that, I seek a bloody battlefield and a battle that’s well-fought.
[ He says it so casually that it’s a little disarming, but… Is it, really, when he’s covered in blood and bruises? Regardless, he steps up to the tub with Matt and offers the bottle for him to take a taste of. It’s what he’d mentioned looking for, and he’d finally found someone making it—pulque. ]
What’s the purpose of conflict, when you take a big step back and look at it?
[ It might seem like he’s ignoring Matt’s question, but it’s more that he’s leading him towards an answer to it. ]
It isn't? [ Matt is fully focused on Tezcatlipoca and his various scrapes and scratches, so he misses that his reflection in the bathroom mirror is nearly pouting. His lips twitch. ] It felt like conflict to me ...
[ Between getting sprayed with blood as D decapitated a ravening cannibal, feeling the blast of Byleth's inferno roiling by, and spending his own blood on spells that were potentially stupid, but definitely combat, the battle in Springstar feels like the most conflict he's had in his life.
With a few exceptions.
Still, Matt's not put off by the question. He understands it to be a signpost--or at least he thinks it is. He steps in to accept the mysterious bottle and take a sip, finding the beverage to be thick, a bit sweet, and surprisingly crisp. Acidic? It's interesting for sure. ]
The purpose of conflict. [ Matt considers. ] Well ... I guess I think of it as zero-sum. One thing has to displace another. Evolutionarily, that's, you know. Resource competition. Not everything capable of life can exist all at once.
[ He reaches for the little vial of rose oil, holding it up for Tezcatlipoca's inspection. ] Can I put some of this on you?
[ He's using a diversity of oil applications, as Tezca may have noticed. But skin-to-skin is the best way to get the benefits, in his opinion. ]
[ He laughs a little at the pout, but Matt is at least saved from further ribbing about it because he takes the pulque. Tezcatlipoca even makes an impressed noise that his face doesn’t twist up, since it’s an acquired taste, usually. It doesn’t match modern tastebuds so well, but it’s a rare piece of nostalgia that he does indulge in. It’s also why he takes the bottle back, since it wasn’t easy to find, so this is one he’ll actually savor.
He's also impressed by Matt’s answer, honestly, though that one isn’t expressed right away. At least it’s mostly because Matt poses him a question first. ]
…Sure, why not. Won’t be goin’ out for a bit, so I can smell like flowers. Just watch the bruises.
[ He knows he probably doesn’t have to worry about that, but he’ll at least acknowledge them. Though, before that, he does lean over to the counter to open up one of the drawers that he’s claimed as his and grab a hair tie out of it. He deftly starts to pull it up into a loose bun to get it out of the way while he talks, since it’s not like it’s getting any less messy until he soaks the blood out. ]
But you pretty much got it. Conflict is what pushes things forward. Doesn’t matter what that thing is. The world is kinda lazy, when it comes down to it. Takes the path of least resistance. So, conflict provides what’s necessary for change. Doesn’t matter if we’re talk an individual or a civilization. You gotta endure the hardship to grasp the potential it creates.
[ He shrugs as he finishes and collects the bottle again, but he just swirls it idly rather than take another drink. ]
That’s why I embrace those that reach for it. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter. I welcome ‘em to my paradise either way.
[ The pulque hits Matt in waves, to be sure. But apart from a brief screwing up of his expression, a gentle drag of his tongue against the backs of his teeth, he primarily seems to find it "interesting."
He brightens when Tezcatlipoca accepts his offer, tipping a bit of the rose oil into his palm and wetting his fingers. He dabs oil behind Tezcatlipoca's ears, at the insides of his wrists, in the hollow of his throat. After a moment's consideration, Matt upends the rest of the vial and rubs his hands together. Gently, avoiding bruised spots, he runs his palms up Tezcatlipoca's back. Over his chest. ]
That's democratic of you, [ he approves. ] I guess where I run into questions is where, like ...
You seem very battle focused. And I think a lot of the hardship in my life is more ... I don't know, "individual versus society"? "Individual versus the self"? The idea of conflict is a bit more metaphorical.
That, and a lot of conflict as I've experienced it is-- [ He hesitates, more of a stumble as he weighs too late the wisdom of saying anything. ] It just feels like cruelty.
[ Tezcatlipoca closes his eyes as Matt starts to apply the oil, and his expression is almost serene. This part feels familiar. It might have even been nostalgic, if he hadn’t been in Matt’s position relatively recently. He had showed Izcalli where to apply oils, since that was part of the ritual of the ixiptlatli that he was expected to follow. It’s just a short, near-nostalgic memory, and he opens his eyes again once the application becomes more thorough. Plus, Matt’s considerations are a good lead-in for that answer from a minute ago. ]
Well, that’s why I say we might’ve been fated to meet. We met when those hardships suddenly became a lot less metaphorical, yeah?
[ There’s really a lot he could say here, but there’s also plenty of it that’s not strictly relevant. It’s answers to the questions like “where did the gods go”, and in his world, there are concrete answers to those kinds of questions. For Matt, who knows if that history is the same? And here in Kenos, what does it matter? So, he leaves all of that out. ]
Not to say that those kinds of struggles ain’t important, but they’re just not the kind that I dip my hand into at all. No need, basically. It’s matters of life and death that call out to me. I favor warriors and those who fight hard for their survival because who else needs looking after more? That’s part of why I ended up here, I figure.
[ He takes one of Matt’s hands with both of his and turns it so the palm faces up. He runs his fingers along the palm up to the fingertips, but it’s demonstrative more than an affectionate gesture. ]
Lots of hands here like yours, after all. A warrior with unblemished hands has a harder time standing up to the cruelty of the kinds of conflict I appear for. Doesn't mean I'll go easy on ya or let ya shirk away from what fate's picked you for—But I don't abandon those fighting for their future.
[ Matt's thoughts were already wending down a dark and particular labyrinth. The one he can never quite escape from, that seems to color all his feelings about violence. Tezcatlipoca's phrasing--life and death, fight hard for their survival--therefore strikes a specific chord.
Maybe he undersold the level of hardship he's been through. Underreported its depth, at least.
Tezcatlipoca draws his fingertips over Matt's smooth hand. Over his fingers, used to handling small tools and typing at keyboards, propagating plants and intimate touches. Matt's lips twitch.
Gently, he reaches out to encourage Tezcatlipoca's fingers back down his hand, over his fragrant, oiled palm to the much-bitten wrist. If he'll allow, Matt lifts Tezcatlipoca's hand up to his left cheek, guides it along the faint, hairline scar that he doesn't need a mirror to trace.
But before too long he pulls back, steps away. Reaches for the faucet to stop the water. With rose oil still lingering on his hand, it takes a moment's careful work. ]
Unless you want it a little fuller? [ he says. ] Otherwise, it's ready for you.
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[ That said under his breath as he takes in Tezca's blood-spattered appearance. Though what Matt's really worried about isn't some bloody nose. He watches Tezcatlipoca sharply for a moment; but seeing the ease with which he throws himself down, how quickly he takes off his boots, Matt relaxes a bit. ]
We should get somebody to just dye your clothes red and cut to the chase, [ he notes dryly. ] Although I guess dressing in black achieves the same goal ...
You met Flat?
[ There's a tinge of hope in the question. It's probably foolish, but Matt can't help feeling cheered by any signs of Zenith and Meridian members getting along. ]
no subject
Yeah, you get it. Black’s my color anyways? Like, literally.
[ It’s probably the strongest visual metaphor that he has. Anyone that knows about Tezcatlipoca tends to have that color come to mind first, and not simply because of the more literal association of being the Black Tezcatlipoca of the four. With smoke, obsidian, and jaguars, it’s a pretty strong tie.
He’s a little surprised that Matt asks about Flat out of everything going on here, but with another chuckle, he nods. ]
Sure did. Pulled his happy ass outta the ground when he got here, in fact. [ Untrue. He watched Flat struggle his way out and did nothing at all. He was there, though. ] He’s a mage from my world, in fact. Well, more or less. Doesn’t matter much, since he’s either from before the world got bleached or he’s from a parallel world, but—
[ He pauses to yank off the other boot, then picks up the bag as he stands and walks in to meet Matt. He looks around when he enters the dining room for a place to set the bag, and with another thunk, he sets it down and starts to shift through it, since there seems to be a few things inside it. ]
Weird kid. Somethin’ ain’t right about him.
[ It’s said with a grin, and while it doesn’t seem like he’s saying it fondly, exactly, it’s certainly with approval…]
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He also decides to focus on the sound rather than the sense of Tezcatlipoca's verdict on Flat. ]
I like him, [ he says with a pleasant nod. He's curious over the fact that they're both from the same world, or close enough to the same one, but he supposes it's not any stranger than some people here having met another version of him. ] He's actually the first person who went looking for shadows with me. I hadn't figured out how to pin them down at that point, but it was kind of necessary experimentation.
[ Yes, Matt could also ask what's my present. But he assumes that reveal is coming imminently. ]
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[ Not in any special way, admittedly, but sometimes you just like someone because you want to shake them really hard to see what happens. Or, Tezcatlipoca does.
It’s all he says, though, since his present is more immediately important than Flat. His hand closes around it, and he nods, but he doesn’t pull it out just yet. He looks at Matt first to give a little bit of a preamble. ]
So, was thinkin’ about ya. Honestly, been thinkin’ about this since the first time we met, because you just ain’t well suited to the fightin’ part of this battle. And I don’t mean Oblivion. Know that’s your focus, but you can’t just sit on the sidelines and ignore what’s goin’ on otherwise. Rather, I hate that kinda thinking.
[ It’s why he was deeply bothered by Rudbeckia’s position on the war when they’d talked. If not for Set’s protection and staking claim over her, Tezcatlipoca would have taken things into his own hands immediately. He still had half a mind to do so, but. This was Matt’s chance to step up where she was unwilling to. It’s something of a test, because as soon as he pulls it out, it’s obvious.
He pulls out a pistol and sets it on the table before Matt with that same hearty thunk. ]
Luckily, the modern world’s pretty great. Anyone’s a warrior with these in hand.
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I ...
[ A part of him feels like he should have expected this sooner or later. He looks at Tezcatlipoca, then back to the gun. Back to Tezcatlipoca. ]
Thank you. [ Manners first! ] It's, um. It looks easy to carry.
[ He'd say it's sweet of you to think of me, except Matt's not totally sure it is. (He'd also say it's pretty, but that seems like maybe not what people want you to say about firearms.) He pushes off from the table and takes a step towards the pistol, reaching out to brush the barrel with his fingertips. ]
And just to be clear, you want me to ... shoot somebody with this?
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Well, sure, every pistol’s pretty easy to carry. Unless you get to the ones that are like fuckin’ crazy shootin’ fireballs every time you pull the trigger, but that kinda recoil’s gonna knock your arm outta place.
[ He rattles all that off casually, but rather than continue digging in his bag, he steps up behind Matt and reaches along his arms to set Matt’s hands more firmly on the gun rather than just ghosting along it. And provided Matt doesn’t object, he’ll guide his hands into holding it. Does this have to be something that feels almost intimate? No, not really. But it’s something more important to Tezcatlipoca than it might seem.
…And, you know. Probably also gun kink of his own, if we’re honest. ]
Like it or not, you’re a warrior on a battlefield. Don’t really care if you’re goin’ after someone or just defendin’ yourself. You wanna see tomorrow, you gotta have a weapon in hand when push comes to shove. That’s what it’s for.
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You know I can make fire with my mind, right? [ Matt says dryly. Though his tone is softer than it was a moment ago. Last time he tried fire in a combat-adjacent scenario, it didn't work out the way he wanted, as the scars on his wrist attest. ] I've been working on sleep spells here and there too. I feel like it'd be hard for someone to land a hit on me while they're unconscious.
And-- [ He turns his head slightly Tezcatlipoca's way. ] --Link's showing me how to use a sword.
[ Did that have to sound so ... sensual? No, it did not. ]
But I'll learn how to use this thing. On one condition.
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So, as Matt speaks, Tezcatlipoca moves Matt. He has his hands grip the gun properly, then moves his hands down to support his biceps into the proper position for bracing himself. He knows guns well. Technically speaking, his knowledge was peerless. It was just fate interfering when it came to the demonstration. ]
Hey, I ain’t tellin’ you to stop those. The more you got at your disposal, the better.
[ But he still smirks at Matt slyly at the tone of talking about a sword. He sees you, mister, and maybe that’s why he nestles just a little bit closer. But it could be just as much for that last little bit, really. Is it sensual, or is it a threat? It’s sometimes hard to tell with Tezcatlipoca. ]
You don’t offer conditions to a god. [ It’s a blunt and resolute statement that has weight behind it, and yet— ] But I’ll hear ya, at least.
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Still, he can't help swaying back slightly into that lean forward. Matt's body language is purely flirtatious--not a hint of feeling a threat--which likely comes as little surprise at this point. His head is still turned to the side, trying to catch a sideways glimpse of Tezcatlipoca. ]
Let me draw you a bath. [ That's sexier than give you a bath or make you take a bath, right? ] And wash your hair.
I don't know a lot about weapons, but I know you're supposed to take care of them. Seems like the same thing should apply to warriors.
[ Is this totally hypocritical coming from a man who is, as we speak, experiencing worsening anemia? For sure, it definitely is. ]
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Wh—
[ He starts what could be a question, but he’s also stunned into further silence as Matt continues. His expression absolutely crumbles into bafflement. ]
I… Uh.
[ Annoyingly, he can’t disagree. In fact, there’s a little twinge of feeling at the phrasing, because it’s startling to have what amounts to one of his much quieter core principles thrown back in his face. ]
That’s… an easy condition. [ It sounds lame as soon as he’s said it, which makes him tense up, then quickly release that tension as he huffs and drops the close contact for the sake of holding up the gun. ] You’re fuckin’ with me. That’s not seriously it.
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I'm serious, [ he says lightly. ] I said I'd learn how to use a gun; I didn't say I would use it.
[ Even Matt doesn't know how wide the delta will be between knowledge and application, where firing a gun at someone is concerned. But whether he sticks with his current principle of no guns, thanks or becomes some kind of Rambo, learning how they work seems like a good first step. Especially since the gun's going to be in his house either way.
Although a piece of him does wonder how Silco would react if he just, like. Shot him. ]
A bath seemed appropriate for that level of commitment.
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Little shit. [ It’s an insult that sounds the same as when Tezcatlipoca calls him a “punk”, aka a begrudging acknowledgement that’s a hair shy of praise. ] Well, take it seriously, then. I’m givin’ you a weapon so you can use it. Easier to carry around a gun than a sword if you get into trouble, right?
[ It’s not complete refusal, which would have made Tezcatlipoca mad, but the half-acceptance doesn’t sit fully well with him either. It feels like they could be the same thing, practically speaking, but… He can at least accept taking the effort to learn it. He’ll give his criticisms later if Matt ends up in a situation where he could use it and still refuses.
For now, though. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, then holds it out as he does indeed see how the blood has matted it together at the end. ]
…Bath might be nice though, yeah.
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[ Tezcatlipoca is probably destined for eventual disappointment where Matt and guns are concerned. But in one respect, at least, Matt will follow his wishes faithfully: He'll be serious about learning. ]
Mmhmm, [ Matt agrees, re: the niceness of a bath right now. He's already contemplating the essential oils that might be good to use. ] Give me a little time to treat you, and then ...
I mean, I don't know where we'd go to try shooting things, or if there's stuff I need to learn about handling it first. But we can get started as soon as you want.
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[ He knows what Matt means, but he’s being a little bit of a pedant just because he loves guns. His safety with them is practically nonexistent, true, but. He understands them extremely well, and it’s part of why that’s what he focuses on. He steps back in to adjust Matt’s grip and stance, but this is from the side rather than the overly intimate way he’d started. ]
So, guess we’ll start with makin’ sure you don’t have it goin’ off because you’re playin’ with the trigger. [ hm, ] Handling it, clearing it, cleaning it, all the technical stuff first. Then we can talk about shootin’. Amos would come with.
[ And, admittedly. He brings up Amos because when he thinks about trying to teach Matt how to shoot, he just imagines it going embarrassingly for him. He can practically see Amos’s slightly disapproving frown in his mind’s eye. Also, Matt potentially getting shot when Tezcatlipoca does his own target practice. So, fine. You win this gun safety round, Amos.
He gives Matt’s shoulder a little pat once he’s settled into a good posture, then returns to the bag to grab another piece of bounty out of it: a bottle of what looks like watery milk, almost. This one is mostly for him, though he’d at least give Matt a taste. ]
…Well, we’ll get to that. [ He gives Matt a little nudge to say that he’s going, then steps past to head towards the bathroom with the tub. ] Not that I’m complainin’, but I can get the blood out, if that’s what you’re worried about.
[ This is just Tezcatlipoca’s contradictory desires rearing their head, though. On one hand, he should absolutely be pampered and tended to—it’s what a god deserves. On the other… Even with that thought in mind, it’s not actually something that Tezcatlipoca had ever demanded or pursued for himself. So, he accepts the offer easily, but it feels a bit strange to do so. ]
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He's mildly surprised that Tezcatlipoca's willing to start off with cleaning and handling, rather than live target practice. Grateful, though. And he brightens when Amos' name is mentioned.
Tezcatlipoca heads towards the bathroom. Matt lowers the gun again, gingerly drawing his fingers away from the trigger, and keeps it pointed down as he follows. ]
It's not about thinking you can't clean yourself up, [ he protests, amused. ] I know you can do that. It's just ...
Something I like doing for people. I haven't gotten to in a long time.
[ Or what feels like a long time to him. What is a long time, set against the total length of his life thus far. Not much to an immortal being, of course. ]
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It's nice of you.
[ He shrugs off the coat first and tosses it on the floor casually, which also gives a little peek at something Matt had been trying to quietly figure out earlier. There’s a scar along Tezcatlipoca’s lower side down to his hip that had definitely not been there before their little exploration of Oblivion. It doesn’t look fresh either, though, oddly. ]
I mean, I’m not as hands on as you are, but I get it. Believe it or not, I care as much about makin’ places for relaxation as I do battlefields.
[ Tezcatlipoca leans against the wall expectantly rather than strip down further yet, since, well. It’d be cold, honestly, so he’ll wait for the bath. He does grin cheekily, and sometimes it’s hard to tell when Tezcatlipoca is serious and when he isn’t… But the next part is definitely a joke, for once. ]
So, I got high standards, is what I’m sayin’.
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Really, [ he says for the last bit, eyebrows arching. ] So this is why we get along, is what you're saying.
[ He's still got this freaking gun, and he's heard you shouldn't get those wet. So Matt grabs a towel and wraps the pistol in it, then sets it on the sink. From there, he goes to the tub to tinker with the faucets. Louder, over the gush of water: ] Assuming it's not presumptuous of me to say we get along.
[ Tezcatlipoca has no reason to appreciate the difference, but this bathroom has become decidedly witchier since Matt took ownership of the townhouse. Mainly this comes in the form of candles, but there's a few other signs. The odd crystal. Sigils etched onto some of the jars of conditioner, lotion, and assorted unguents on display.
Once Matt's determined the temperature's in a nice spot, he heads over to said unguents and starts sifting through them. ]
Rose, lavender, or sandalwood?
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Hey, like I said, it ain’t goin’ off at random. You’re American, ain’t ya? Thought you loved guns.
[ But he gets Matt’s hesitation here, even so. Is he personally inclined to it? Hell no. But he understands that for most people of the modern day, handling a gun casually isn’t a thing. Even for Americans, though he has to tease about it. ]
But, nah, ain’t presumptuous. If we didn’t get along, it’d be crystal clear. Wouldn’t have decided to crash here, for one. Also probably would have shot you at some point.
[ Is that one a joke… No, it is not, but his tone puts it solidly in the uncertain territory. He puts a hand on the wall for balance as he peels off his socks one by one and adds them to the pile, and after a half-moment to consider the options, he answers easily. ]
Let’s go with rose.
[ He picks up the bottle at this point and gives it a shake before he uncorks it and takes a quick swig. Otherwise, he just watches with interest as Matt prepares the bath, but he’s not done with that point about getting along, as it turns out. ]
If it wasn’t for Oblivion, I’d be inclined to whip you into shape. Don’t agree with how you view battle, after all, and refusin’ because of principle is how you end up dead. But you get a little bit of a pass because Oblivion’s somethin’ bigger than killin’ Meri. As long as someone is fighting, they have my favor. [ There’s a tiny bit more formality to that last sentence, but before it can be considered further, he grins cheekily. ] We might’ve been fated to meet, y’know?
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[ Maybe guns don't need that kind of consideration?
Anyway, he nods for "rose," plucking up a small vial along with a few other jars. He tips a few drops into a jar of bath salts, then a jar filled with something thick and creamy. ]
I haven't exactly refused to fight when the option's in front of me, [ Matt notes, rolling up his sleeves. Tezcatlipoca has likely had occasion to notice the crisscrossing bite scars on his wrist before now. Matt pours some of the bath salts into the tub, and the room fills with a gentle rose scent. ] I fought for Springstar, when civilians were being attacked. But broadly speaking ... I feel like my dance card's more than full with Oblivion, so I guess you're not wrong there.
[ Matt glances around to the candles. With a quick indrawn breath, a flutter of butterflies in his belly, they light with cheery, yellow-orange flames. His gaze returns to Tezcatlipoca.
Curiously, he smiles. ]
Fated to meet how?
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[ He laughs gently, though, since the irony of having this kind of conversation when the room is filling with the scent of roses and the flicker of candlelight isn’t lost on him. Which, it’s looking like he’ll get in soon, so he’ll just continue getting undressed at a leisurely pace.
This also shows, you guessed it, more injuries, though none of the rest are as suspicious or severe. There’s a bruise on the opposite side of his ribcage, but it doesn’t look severe. He just clearly got into some kind of fight (or multiple…) while he was out and about on his latest excursion. ]
Well… That’s not quite the fightin’ I look for. Protecting innocents, preventing bloodshed, that ain’t “conflict”, is it? In that, I seek a bloody battlefield and a battle that’s well-fought.
[ He says it so casually that it’s a little disarming, but… Is it, really, when he’s covered in blood and bruises? Regardless, he steps up to the tub with Matt and offers the bottle for him to take a taste of. It’s what he’d mentioned looking for, and he’d finally found someone making it—pulque. ]
What’s the purpose of conflict, when you take a big step back and look at it?
[ It might seem like he’s ignoring Matt’s question, but it’s more that he’s leading him towards an answer to it. ]
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[ Between getting sprayed with blood as D decapitated a ravening cannibal, feeling the blast of Byleth's inferno roiling by, and spending his own blood on spells that were potentially stupid, but definitely combat, the battle in Springstar feels like the most conflict he's had in his life.
With a few exceptions.
Still, Matt's not put off by the question. He understands it to be a signpost--or at least he thinks it is. He steps in to accept the mysterious bottle and take a sip, finding the beverage to be thick, a bit sweet, and surprisingly crisp. Acidic? It's interesting for sure. ]
The purpose of conflict. [ Matt considers. ] Well ... I guess I think of it as zero-sum. One thing has to displace another. Evolutionarily, that's, you know. Resource competition. Not everything capable of life can exist all at once.
[ He reaches for the little vial of rose oil, holding it up for Tezcatlipoca's inspection. ] Can I put some of this on you?
[ He's using a diversity of oil applications, as Tezca may have noticed. But skin-to-skin is the best way to get the benefits, in his opinion. ]
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He's also impressed by Matt’s answer, honestly, though that one isn’t expressed right away. At least it’s mostly because Matt poses him a question first. ]
…Sure, why not. Won’t be goin’ out for a bit, so I can smell like flowers. Just watch the bruises.
[ He knows he probably doesn’t have to worry about that, but he’ll at least acknowledge them. Though, before that, he does lean over to the counter to open up one of the drawers that he’s claimed as his and grab a hair tie out of it. He deftly starts to pull it up into a loose bun to get it out of the way while he talks, since it’s not like it’s getting any less messy until he soaks the blood out. ]
But you pretty much got it. Conflict is what pushes things forward. Doesn’t matter what that thing is. The world is kinda lazy, when it comes down to it. Takes the path of least resistance. So, conflict provides what’s necessary for change. Doesn’t matter if we’re talk an individual or a civilization. You gotta endure the hardship to grasp the potential it creates.
[ He shrugs as he finishes and collects the bottle again, but he just swirls it idly rather than take another drink. ]
That’s why I embrace those that reach for it. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter. I welcome ‘em to my paradise either way.
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He brightens when Tezcatlipoca accepts his offer, tipping a bit of the rose oil into his palm and wetting his fingers. He dabs oil behind Tezcatlipoca's ears, at the insides of his wrists, in the hollow of his throat. After a moment's consideration, Matt upends the rest of the vial and rubs his hands together. Gently, avoiding bruised spots, he runs his palms up Tezcatlipoca's back. Over his chest. ]
That's democratic of you, [ he approves. ] I guess where I run into questions is where, like ...
You seem very battle focused. And I think a lot of the hardship in my life is more ... I don't know, "individual versus society"? "Individual versus the self"? The idea of conflict is a bit more metaphorical.
That, and a lot of conflict as I've experienced it is-- [ He hesitates, more of a stumble as he weighs too late the wisdom of saying anything. ] It just feels like cruelty.
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Well, that’s why I say we might’ve been fated to meet. We met when those hardships suddenly became a lot less metaphorical, yeah?
[ There’s really a lot he could say here, but there’s also plenty of it that’s not strictly relevant. It’s answers to the questions like “where did the gods go”, and in his world, there are concrete answers to those kinds of questions. For Matt, who knows if that history is the same? And here in Kenos, what does it matter? So, he leaves all of that out. ]
Not to say that those kinds of struggles ain’t important, but they’re just not the kind that I dip my hand into at all. No need, basically. It’s matters of life and death that call out to me. I favor warriors and those who fight hard for their survival because who else needs looking after more? That’s part of why I ended up here, I figure.
[ He takes one of Matt’s hands with both of his and turns it so the palm faces up. He runs his fingers along the palm up to the fingertips, but it’s demonstrative more than an affectionate gesture. ]
Lots of hands here like yours, after all. A warrior with unblemished hands has a harder time standing up to the cruelty of the kinds of conflict I appear for. Doesn't mean I'll go easy on ya or let ya shirk away from what fate's picked you for—But I don't abandon those fighting for their future.
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Maybe he undersold the level of hardship he's been through. Underreported its depth, at least.
Tezcatlipoca draws his fingertips over Matt's smooth hand. Over his fingers, used to handling small tools and typing at keyboards, propagating plants and intimate touches. Matt's lips twitch.
Gently, he reaches out to encourage Tezcatlipoca's fingers back down his hand, over his fragrant, oiled palm to the much-bitten wrist. If he'll allow, Matt lifts Tezcatlipoca's hand up to his left cheek, guides it along the faint, hairline scar that he doesn't need a mirror to trace.
But before too long he pulls back, steps away. Reaches for the faucet to stop the water. With rose oil still lingering on his hand, it takes a moment's careful work. ]
Unless you want it a little fuller? [ he says. ] Otherwise, it's ready for you.
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nsfw
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