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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- culture (the): demeisen,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- enderal: jade the prophetess,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate grand order: tezcatlipoca,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fate/: sakamoto ryouma,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- howl's moving castle: howl,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- life is strange: chloe price,
- oc: liem talbott,
- oc: matt jamison,
- pumpkin scissors: alice l. malvin,
- suikoden: yuber,
- terra e: tony asuka,
- tsubasa reservoir chronicle: subaru
THE ADVOCATE ORACLE - A RIP VAN WINKLE IN TIME
Sweet dreams are made of Bliss
As the twilight falls, and bearers begin to tuck in for their evenings on the night of the 15th of March (OOC time) and whether they tuck themselves into bed fully, or simply drift away in the middle of their dinner, work, indulgences, or what have you; bearers will fall into a deep, deep sleep. Perhaps you slump in your chair, or you wrap your arms around a teddy bear, or partner, or cup a precious shard in your sleep, it doesn’t matter, because as you drift away, into a sleep that seems to tug you under like the undertow itself, a question will echo in bearer’s minds: “If given the choice, would you show compassion in the face of adversity?”
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
It sticks with you, even as you fall into a dreamless sleep. As if it rotates in your mind, over and over, letting you worm over that. You know for certain what it is, that it is the calming, soothing voice of the Oracle, reaching out to you across the ether, telling you – promise you – that if you accept its promise, you will find that the Oracle could be in your hands. That thought leads you to dream of something else – of home, or your loved ones – of what you are fighting this war for. Even as you dream, you feel a presence next to you, and unlike the Harbinger’s winding, rough digging, this is more akin to a friend, who is asking you soft, coaxing questions. Things like: what was your childhood like? What were your friends like? What did you do? You cannot help but think of them, think of your home and your loved ones. Of where you came from, and how it made you what you are.
The advocate seeks to understand you, and where you come from. You can feel it, that overwhelming Acceptance and love from it, even as you reminisce, compelled to answer the multitude of questions, you can feel something building behind you, around you. “Don’t you want them all to understand this?” the impression is given through communion, and you cannot help but answer: yes.
Click your Heels together, Dorothy!
As you awake for the first time, it’s alien, the world that meets you. New smells fill your nostrils, new sights, the gravity is perhaps different than you’ve gotten used to on Kenos, even those slight shifts enough to make the world feel wholly different. You remember the advocate’s words, and it wants you to feel what it feels. Understanding. Compassion, and perhaps there is a sense that doing so would hurt yourself in turn, if you understood too much. That is the advocate’s way, after all, isn’t it?
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
You feel an inexorable, slight tug in your chest. Something subtle and gentle, the slightest of sensations, that gives you a direction. You know it, your mind only just now comprehending the advocate’s confusing impressions via communion, that there is something of this world’s… Soul/center/heart or whatever word you want to use for it. Something about this world that will help you along your path, and help you with the results you so desire. You know it will not guarantee a victory, but surely it will help. Especially as your numbers dwindle from world to world. You are left with an impression from the Advocate -- if you die, they cannot bring you back. There is apology in this, but alone, one oracle is limited. Only united, can they truly change your fate.
The lingering presence of the advocate starts to fade. You know this is a bearer’s world, if not your own. You look around, to see perhaps a familiar face nearby? Or perhaps you are alone. Does it matter? You know that this place belongs to a bearer, but whether they are a friend or an enemy, one has to begin to determine that. You’ll need your wits, you’ll need your strength and resolve to make it to the end of this, won’t you?
After all, as bearers were recently reminded: this is War. This is not simply the fate of this world, but perhaps all, as it will require you to find the answer to this question. So you start to move, you start to look around, explore, and search. For the soul of each world, for the bearers that lie dreaming within, and your foes that will seek you out. Stay steadfast, for the way out will come, if you make it to the end. The longer you spend in each world, however, the more the shadows look darker, and deeper. Hungrier. The more the spaces seem smaller or compressed. As if there is something gnawing away at the sides, making their way to the heart.
Around the world in 60 seconds 12 hours
When you find yourself at the end, when you close your eyes – only a blink, but it hangs, as if the momentary motion is enough to suspend you into a suspended space before. You can see the two options stretched out before you – metaphysically – the impression of it. A long, long shadow cast over one. As if there is a presence hovering over and above, like waiting jaws, ready to strike. In the other, there remains…nothing. It is not pleasant, it is not comforting, it simply… is. A sense that there is now a lack of anything, almost like it had never existed before.
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Does this world have value? You can feel the Advocate ask. Do you want to give them a chance to live? Or does should this world cease, is there nothing here to save?
And though you are compelled, required to answer, you know this question for what it is. Short-sighted. Both, in the end, will lead to its destruction, but which will you choose? Will you allow the world to continue, even with that long shadow cast, like a hungry beast with snapping jaws; or will you erase it from existence and spare it that oncoming apocalypse?
Catch [???] Winks
The last world’s fate decided, bearers float in an endless sea of stars. You can see them all, spread before you. Intermittently, they wink out, swallowed into the darkness, consumed as the shadows, that inky-black nothingness grows ever-larger. It looks upon you, bearers. It is nothing, but you have its attention, and your blood runs cold, your limbs frozen. You cannot move, you cannot speak, you cannot breathe. You feel it, the power of being drawn into it, like it wants to consume you. Like it knows you.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
T̸̢̼̯͓̬̘́̀̋̆͊h̷͔̣̱̝͍̬̣͕̄̂͗̆͒͌͜ͅẹ̶̱̩̅͒̿̇͠ ̵̭̹͇͖̔̀ṃ̸̢̧͙̟̼̜͌͆̍͝͝ͅo̴̟̞̓̆̇̐̆͊̽͆̂̀r̶͈̺̮̠͙̗͌ę̸̤̻̈́͐͂̓̊͐̂͆ ̵̡̛͎̩̳̤͔͚̱̼̆̒̓y̴̺̞̹̺̝̤͂ǫ̷̡̣̱̥͊̈́̓͑̕͘ű̵̼͜͜ ̶̨̨̝̟̘̱͇̲̻̪̊͂̽̈̒͊f̴̱̐͌̌̓̋̔́̀͝i̶͖̤͎̬̝̦͒̂g̸̳̰̟̀̓̽̈́̐h̸̼͍̮͎̊̅͗͊̈͋̽̀͘t̴͔͚́̓,̷̨̧̱̠̙̠̙̱̒̍̽̾ ̷̖̰̼̬̟͐̊̂t̶̖̄͂̅̃̍͐̊̑̅͜͝h̴̢̛͙̪̞̫̝̺̋̅̿͛̇̚͝͝ͅͅȩ̶͉̤͍̠́̈͑̏͋̚͘͝ ̸̢̨̧͚̖̤̪̬̪̀̉̐͗̂͆͑̚̕̚c̴̠̩̳͎̲̪͔̟̈́͂̉͑́l̶̡̲̻̣̘̏́ͅo̶̢̧͔͈̬̳̰͈̝̻͌̋̆̃͒͗̏͘ş̴̪̺̣̥̎̽̿͗̒́͛̕̚̚e̴̺͍̤͖͂̇͑͂̋͂̆̾r̴̨̩̈́͋͠ ̷̧͚̲̩̖̋͒̉́͗y̶̘̖̝̑̈͊ǒ̵͚̽u̵͎͍̇̀̏̊̕͝ŕ̷͎̜̘͙̀̋ ̶͇̲̝̞̖̝̣̘̝̬͋d̷͔͈͔̀̿õ̴̝̯͇̹̘̏͗͜ö̵͚͓͆m̵͉̦̫̥̦̞̫͐̆͐̿͊͒͌͋͜.̷̼͈̻̥̜̾̏͐̾̐͆͘͜
You gasp, as you startle awake, and open your eyes for the first time in a long time.
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…But that look quickly fades. He would expect conniving of that sort from Akua, but Matt doesn’t strike him as the type. ]
Well. I shall remember that preference. Perhaps I shall find a gift for when you next stop by…?
[ He’s teasing flirtatiously, but it’s also with that easily deniable flourish. To an eavesdropper, it’s a gentle offer, but for the two of them, it’s a bit more lurid just by the subtle tone that "stop by" carries. He's truly a master at carrying another conversation in undercurrents and double meanings.
He takes a half-step back and gallantly offers his gloved hand to Matt as he dips into a partial bow to formally ask for the dance as the current song winds down. ]
But for now... Would you grace me with the pleasure of a dance?
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... But he backs off, laughing softly, at stop by. ]
I tend to like the things you give me, [ he agrees. He takes Sebastian's proffered hand, offering a nod in return. No curtsey this time; he's not femme enough to pull it off as anything other than a joke, he feels. ] And I'd be honored to dance with you.
[ He is, at least, easy to guide along with their hands as a point of contact. Matt steps in close, remembering at the last minute that you're not supposed to stand with your feet lined up. Shifting a little bit offset is the key to avoiding scraped shins and stepped-on toes. ]
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The music for the song starts, and after only a few notes, Sebastian makes a pleased noise and elegantly pulls Matt along onto the dance floor into a waltz. It’s the evening, after all, so it gives a chance for the sort of socially acceptable closeness. Sebastian’s moves are all (annoyingly) perfect, of course. He leads with perfect confidence, like he’s been dancing this forever.
…Which, you know. Kind of, yeah. ]
It is a lovely ship, is it not? [ It’s a bit of small talk, technically, but it’s a light enough topic in case Matt needs time to remember the rhythm of the steps. ] My first voyage was the first I took in general. The last time I had journeyed the seas, it was by sails alone.
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It's gorgeous, [ he agrees. Not as verbose as he could be, but he's multitasking. Okay, it's one-two-three, one-two-three--not unlike the crest and ebb of a wave, really. ] Are there oceans where you come from?
[ Something about the phrase "sails alone" made him think not of boats at all, but of wings. ]
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Not exactly. There is an infinite expanse of water, but it is more the metaphorical boundary of our world. It is not exactly the same, but it is close enough that even we call it the Styx. It is a boundary that anyone must pass to visit the human realm, but the toll must be paid. Though that part does come from your side, I will say.
[ As Matt starts to find the rhythm, Sebatian’s posture relaxes in turn. His hand settles more comfortably at Matt’s waist rather than being a touch meant to guide. ]
Though this is much preferable to the experience of crossing the Styx, even if I was a servant when I was last on the Campania. Crossing from one realm to another is not a pleasant experience.
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He listens curiously to the explanation. An infinite expanse of water sounds familiar, but he can't remember if he read that in some grimoire or in one of the Vedas. For the mention of tolls, he huffs a laugh. ]
Adding fees and taxation to something chthonic ... that does sound like the work of humanity. [ Matt smiles up at him, his prior look of fretful concentration fading away. ] I'm glad you're having fun.
[ It's almost a shame to return to the true topic he wants to discuss. But if Matt manages to learn anything, it'll help Sebastian in the long run. ]
So ... about this ribbon, [ he says. ] If it did get so I couldn't work the knot open, I think I'd want to ask a friend for help. But what worries me is, maybe them trying to help me would hurt? Or even make it worse somehow.
[ His emotions turn a bit fretful once more. Though this time, his apprehension is for Sebastian rather than himself. ]
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He does laugh a little, as it’s not quite what he’d meant. Demons have a much deeper love of contracts and payment than humans, honestly, but it’s not an important distinction. Especially not with where the conversation turns.
His steps stay just as elegant and easy, but the pleasure of it cools. There’s the spark of suspicion again, since it’s very obvious what Matt means. He’s tempted to be direct and cut through the indirect nature, but he decides to stick with it. There might be a reason that Matt isn’t being as direct as he could be. ]
Hm… It is possible, I suppose. Though that would be an earnest effort. I would worry more about someone intentionally tightening the knot, personally.
[ So the suspicion is hardly mysterious. It would be deeply foolish for someone to try, Sebastian thinks. It’s the assurance he has in answering at all, because while “Florence” had caught him by surprise by placing it in the first place, it would not happen a second time. He has much more confidence in being able to rip a Shard-Bearer in half if they tried. And so… ]
…But my perspective is rather different, I admit. Collaring my kind is exceptionally valuable.
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[ A faint smile. ]
I mentioned I like these kinds of things, collars and chokers. The occasional leash. But it's just for play, you know--to mess around with power dynamics. In real life, I like my freedom. I actually ...
[ The hesitation comes with a brief stutter in his footwork, though Matt manages to recover without much trouble. ]
My family wanted me to take over their business back home, [ he explains. ] And I wanted to go back to school, so I could learn skills and make connections that'd let me help people. They ended up, uh, kind of disowning me. Lowkey "out of the will," not welcome back home, that kind of thing. But I wouldn't take it back.
Does that make sense?
no subject
But it does get that suspicion to ebb away, especially as he listens to Matt's story. The brief tension relaxes, because this is useful for him. He might think it's objectively unwise for Matt to offer him sympathy, since it's surely misplaced. But he'll take it without complaint all the same. ]
It does.
[ He moves smoothly to help him recover from the stutter, though Sebastian looks out towards some of the others dancing as he continues. ]
It is a refrain I have heard before at this level of society, in fact. The opportunity the modern world offers means there are fewer chains to bind someone to what might have been their fate. It is a good thing, in my opinion. Freedom is a difficult thing to grasp.
[ He turns his attention back to Matt. The frown is still there, but it's pensive. This isn't something he's spoken of to anyone except Set, since there's simply never been a reason. ]
...It is why the circumstances of Kenos and Horos before it are a marvel. Even if my perspective has changed, that I may exist among mortals without a master is unheard of. It is a sort of freedom I did not think possible, thus I never even hoped for it.
no subject
It may be a bad idea to try helping Sebastian, and Matt is undoubtedly naive. But his desire to help him, though influenced by affection, at least isn't based on the idea that Sebastian deserves it. That he isn't dangerous. Simply that it's wrong to keep him fettered. ]
Freedom is hard to grasp, [ Matt agrees. A small smile. ] I had to fight for mine, even if it wasn't all that hard. [ That is: Going against his family after a lifetime of going with the flow was hard. But in the grand scheme of struggles for freedom, not so much. ] So that's where I'm coming from when I ask about stuff like this.
no subject
…Or it was, maybe more accurately. He’d had more intention in his gentle words (and outright seduction—) when they had been in Horos. After over a year in Kenos, however, it had shown him a different, more unexpected freedom. There wasn’t so much of a need to do that sort of thing. Demons were not myth here or even treated with all that much hostility. The handsome, elegant man may be a mask for something horrible, but it was hardly one he needed to stick to so strictly. Matt knew the truth of what he was better than anyone in his world had, save for Ciel, to put a finer point on it.
…So, he’s unsure of how to take someone seemingly earnest in wanting to, what? Help him? It’s a first when they know what he is. ]
I believe I understand.
[ Enough, at least. He’s perplexed but it, but. ]
Then… [ He pauses again, though this time he’s just uncertain of whether to continue the (clumsy) farce or not. ] Then it would be preferable to remove any barriers to freedom, no matter the risk, I would say.
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Okay. [ Matt would nod, but mid-dance, the gesture doesn't feel natural to him. Thinking about it is a little like contemplating tapping his head and rubbing his stomach at the same time. ] In that case ... I'd think the first step would be analysis.
If it were me, and I didn't want a knot untied, and I was the kind of person who felt like it was okay to non-consensually collar someone ... I'd try and rig something to punish either the wearer or the lockpicker. [ His nose wrinkles. ] Hence my worries about "hurt or make it worse." But a magical scan is the least invasive thing I can think of to gain some information.
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[ And clumsy as it may be, he understands what Matt is working at then. It’s indirect, so it’s not as likely to trigger its crushing hold, true. But he’s already personally tested that limit somewhat, and thus he knows some of its lines better. For example, it’s not so much punishment as it is preservation. The secrets he knows are the point, and thus the better, harsher punishment would be towards him. It’s not to say that Matt wouldn’t get a slap, though. ]
But such a thing seems a pragmatic choice. With a knot so thoroughly, magically tied, I do not know much of it, personally.
[ A younger couple having their fun drifts a bit out of rhythm and too close, so Sebastian smoothly pulls Matt closer in the turn so that they can move past with ease. ]
In that, I would have to defer to your expertise… But I could assist in whatever way would be best, naturally.
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Back to business. ]
I appreciate it, [ he says, sincerely. ] In terms of assistance ... I think it's a question of finesse versus raw power. I'd want to spend a little time gathering ingredients for a scry and thinking about the best spell configuration--
[ A frown. ]
Ah, let me know if I should avoid writing that down for any reason. [ Matt doesn't know who did this, after all. He's pretty sure not Gavial? Still, maybe a written record wouldn't be smart. ] But if finesse alone won't get it done, I might ask you for your help generating some energy.
[ If you know what he means. ]
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Well, I do not mind, of course. So long as that energy is acceptable when it… Well, I do not know the particulars, actually. Does it come from me?
[ He questions it with a gentle laugh, since he’d been on his way to making a joke about how his help could taint it, what with being a demon and all… But even in jest, he’s not sure it works. Still, though. He gives Matt’s waist the lightest of squeezes that’s just enough to be felt but not to be see as untoward. The balance of etiquette in this time period does at least make flirting a bit more challenging, and therefore fun. ]
But you needn’t— Well, perhaps you could write it once but not keep it. If you write it and show it to me, I can remember it for you as well. [ He shrugs lightly, since he’d said as much when they’d talked of books, and Matt has likely spent time perusing Sebastian’s personal, recreated collection of literature, so it’s not new information. ] If you ever wanted to reread such notes, I could even conjure it already bound as a book, really.
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It comes from both of us, [ he says, warm. ] I'm always happy to use just my own energy for a spell, whether it's breath or what have you, but when it's both of us ... you build something that's more than the sum of its parts. So it'd be mine, and yours, and ... the notes that come from harmonizing, as it were. I think it's really special.
[ Matt smiles, aiming to catch Sebastian's eye. Before he can linger too long on his feelings about sex magic, though, Sebastian points out how his own abilities might be useful for discreet note-taking. Matt brightens. ]
That is too cool, [ he says. He squeezes Sebastian's shoulder, this time in giddy excitement. ] I'd want to try that even if there wasn't any percentage in being sneaky, so ... yes please. Sign me up.
no subject
The waltz trails off as the song ends, and Sebastian leads them towards the side in a brief pause to see what’s next. He looks away from Matt and to the musicians so that he can get a quicker idea, and it’s just in time to be praised. His expression is still composed and elegant in a way that matches their surroundings, but he does smile just a bit more and tip his head forward lightly.
Through Communion, though.
You would think he’s never praised for how the proverbial space of it warms from the cool neutral he seems to settle at naturally. ]
Then we shall give it a try. I am not terribly imaginative when it comes to cover designs, so do pardon me in advance, but I hope you would be pleased despite that.
[ It’s humble and would almost seem falsely so, but… No, he’s very critical when it comes to his imagination, or lack thereof. The music picks up to a jauntier tune, though, and with a little ah of recognition, he smiles at Matt. He shifts his hand from his waist to take one of Matt’s and hold it lower and to the side. Though there is a smooth, deliberate way in how his gloved hand guides Matt’s that’s still that demure, deniable flirtation. Unsurprisingly, he’s very good at it. ]
The Schottische next? You waltz well, so shall we try something a bit livelier?
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I'm looking forward to it, [ Matt assures him with a smile. Quite frankly, he'd much rather be planning his scrying spell and watching Sebastian turn his notes into a shadowy grimoire than stuck in a dream war. Alas.
He lets Sebastian move his hand, gaze flicking down to follow the movement. It's a small thing, but Matt revels in it: the smoothness of the gesture, Sebastian's certainty. Matt brushes his thumb over his gloved hand. ]
I have ... no idea what that is, [ he admits, grinning. ] So if you're ready to take your life into your hands, or you think you can whip me into shape--I'm in.
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Ah, you should be careful with your words, Matt. How am I supposed to take either sentiment…?
[ He’s definitely teasing, though, and he doesn’t give Matt much time to tease back, since he starts to lead and instruct on the dance smoothly. In steps, it’s not much harder than a waltz, but it’s definitely quicker paced. Yet with the skipping nature of the hops and steps, it’s more energetic too, and it sends them more fully around the dancefloor. He at least waits to pick up the conversation again until Matt has a decent enough handle on the steps. ]
You are a quicker study than the young master was, at least. The boy was a terrible dancer.
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[ The hops are nearly his undoing. Matt tries to match Sebastian while following the dictates of rhythm and speed, but there are a couple of unfortunate moments where he manages to hit his apogee right as Sebastian's coming down. By the time they've gone halfway around the dance floor, he's more or less got it, and his grip on Sebastian relaxes from stressed out dog wearing shoes to whoa we're dancing?
He smiles at the praise, faint though it may be, but with a bit of a furrow in his brow. Save for the obvious relatively recently. The other version of him learned a lot about Ciel, right away--his deal, the sacrifice he'd offered. This version of Matt has only seen pieces, and is only now starting to pore over them. ]
I was terrible when I was his age, [ he says. ] I'm sure he could've learned, if he'd had time.
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[ With the laughing tone of it, it’s clear that he really means something like “elderly.” Even long gone, Sebastain will never pass up on a chance to bully Ciel, apparently. It was just too much fun. Thus, it does inspire a feeling of fondness, though it’s muted and also a bit… off. It’s not the sort of fondness that someone might feel over someone departed. It’s closer to the nostalgia of a memory. ]
Though it is not as if I do not understand his distaste. Considering his would-be fate, all of the posturing of high society seemed like a grand waste of time.
[ A hop, a spin. The dance is starting to not match the conversation well, but Sebastian doesn’t seem bothered. He’s actually a bit interested in how this Matt might take it, though the curiosity remains light. ]
I imagine he would have been rather glad for what happened to his Shard, now that I consider it.
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There's only so far Matt can game all that out while the music makes its demands, however. They hop, they spin: Matt clutches at Sebastian again, huffing a laugh over it a moment later. Then he frowns, curious. ]
Why do you say that?
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[ It’s easy for him to admit. He doesn’t so much as hesitate in the steps of the dance or even what he feels. In part, it’s because he’s already had this conversation before. He knows that Matt takes the information well, though he doesn’t fully understand why.
Yet, there’s just as much a part that’s just the time he’s had since. There were people that loathed what he was and what he did, certainly… But not nearly as many as he would have expected. He feels more confident in admitting his true thoughts, since they’ve rarely been met with the sort of backlash that would have him delicately hide them behind all his perfect manners. ]
The Covenants I offer are simple, really. I give myself over to my master and grant their deepest wishes. No matter the wish, I will see it delivered to them. The young master’s is the only one I have ever failed, technically speaking.
[ …He doesn’t count it, though. The circumstances were so far outside of his control that it seemed unfair as a mark on his otherwise perfect record. ]
And when I have given them their wish… Their soul is mine. That is always the price I ask. [ He shrugs gently ] It was the young master's poor luck that he did not intend to summon me at all, but he still desired my power. So, I imagine he would be very pleased to deny me the fruits of my years of laboring for him.
nsfw musings
It's not because he's upset, per se. The story Sebastian tells fills in the dim shape of demons are dangerous with excruciating particulars, making his chest ache with a helix of sadness and bittersweet satisfaction for the boy Ciel. But Matt's actual, physical shock comes not from anger or indignation, but from recognition: he recalls Sebastian's hand on his cock, his tongue dragging over the emerald lotus that houses Matt's soul. A hunger that grows sharper and deeper the more it tastes.
He recovers himself, sliding Sebastian a glance that's apologetic--but a little distracted. ]
I see.
[ He doesn't ask what could have possibly motivated a kid to ask for a demon's power, and at so towering a price. For one thing, morally bankrupt people exist, but more crucially ... life isn't fair. And it isn't fair to children. He's curious about Ciel's situation, but he doesn't have to stir his imagination very far to imagine the kind of circumstance that could prompt a child to lash out, out, out--and reach into the void. ]
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No, Sebastian’s attention is so wholly focused on Matt that he doesn’t think it’s worth pointing out. No matter how many times he watches someone come to this sort of understanding, he’ll always enjoy it. Deception is practically his nature, and yet he loves to see people push through and see him for what he is. In part, at least. There are few that truly manage it. ]
Do you dislike it?
[ “It” is intentionally vague too. “It” could be many things, and it’s just as telling which one Matt picks here. ]
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