kenoscomm | techalaniani. [cw: dr...ugs...]

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techalaniani. [cw: dr...ugs...]

[ It’s about two weeks after the chaos that’s hit Highstorm and Springstar both. The dust has had time to settle and people have started to pick themselves back up. And in that busy time, the Shard-Bearers of Kenos are touched by someone new. It’s a mind that gives the impression of vastness in the way that other gods and similarly supernatural creatures have. There’s dark, fragrant smoke of copal, and the humid heat of a rainforest. It probably feels faintly familiar to some, since there’s just a hint of that warmth that feels similar to a certain sun god(dess)…

But as it focuses, that warmth seems to be coming from a campfire, perhaps oddly. The logs around it offer you a “seat”, whether proverbial or not, and it’s only if you take one that the speak themselves will come into more focus. But the introduction that comes with it is much cooler (in both senses of the word) than the bubbly Quetzalcoatl. ]

Yo.

[ …Is that how the newest god is greeting the masses? Yep. Apparently so. ]

I talked to enough people when Kenos was jerking me around [ no, that was me, the player, ] that Communion is just more efficient. So, for those I’ve met and for those I haven’t, consider this a more formal greeting. You’ve removed my brother Quetzalcoatl and allowed me to descend in his stead.

[ And even though he’s identified Quetzalcoatl as his brother… The smirk in that statement is unmistakable. He’s pleased that Quetzalcoatl is dead. For those that know the mythology of the Aztec pantheon even faintly, this wouldn’t be a surprise at all, since Quetzalcoatl only has one enemy that would be glad to see the feathered serpent fall. ]

Name’s Tezcatlipoca. Tloque nahuaque. [ The Nahuatl is spoken with a sense of power that’s subtle, but still raw, even though there’s no one that would understand it. Still, it conveys the idea well enough—this is no minor god of that pantheon. ] If you know me, great, and if you don’t, well. Met your god Set one of the times I was stoppin’ by, and our whole deal is similar enough. I am conflict, so in the spirit of fairness, I’ve thrown my lot in with Zenith. Can’t have two gods that oversee war and conflict on the same side, yeah?

[ There’s humor in his tone that makes it seem like it’s a joke, but… No. It’s not. That’s a pretty significant part of his rationale for picking Zenith. Thanks Set!/Don’t worry about. ]

Anyways. All that formal shit aside, easy one to follow it all up. Ain’t often that I got a human body to enjoy getting fucked up. So, if you’ve got a preference for weed, hit me up. Workin’ on somethin’ artisanal there, but I wanna know the poisons of preference for the locals. Let me know what you get fucked up on, and I might even make it worth your while.

[ …So. You know. That’s one way to introduce yourself. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Your acolyte?

[ It occurs to Matt that maybe he shouldn't tell Tezcatlipoca things he doesn't want getting out in the streets. Then it occurs to him that they talked about sex magic earlier today.

... Well. If word does get around, it could be a good thing. People won't be so surprised if he comes asking for their help with Zenith/Meridian experiments. ]

By all means, grab something to eat, [ he adds with a smile. ] Keep your strength up. [ The good news is that Matt actually does recognize where Tezca's leading them. He might even recall the DIY grill place. Maybe he hasn't lost his touch entirely. ] I'm curious about bloodshed after all the sacrifice talk, but I think I'm leaning towards the hookers and blow side of things.

[ Matt is one of those horribly precocious people whose drug use actually peaked in high school. In the years since, he's come to see his body as more of a temple, albeit to Kali, Kamadeva, and Aphrodite. So if he wants to explore substance-enhanced psychic visions, he figures it would help if he got back into practice.

Start small: He takes the cigarette, drawing a little of the smoke into his mouth. Inhales. Hands it back to Tezcatlipoca as he sighs out. ]

[ Tezcatlipoca nods, since he’s glad that Matt doesn’t mind the more relaxed start. It actually is a matter of strength, since his caloric needs run higher than a human’s because of what he actually is… But also considering his diet, well. He’d just complain that it gets expensive fast. ]

Yeah, we’ll be quick about dinner. Oh, and you ain’t squeamish about meat, are you?

[ …Like, no offense or anything, Matt, but. You kind of look like the kind of vegetarian that might be a little less than pleased at Tezcatlipoca’s diet. Not like he picked it, but. ]

—Anyways. [ He takes the cigarette back with a smile as he pulls his arm from Matt’s shoulder. It’s not exactly the easiest way to walk, even if they don’t have far to go. ] Bloodshed means a lot of things down here. You’ve got your fight clubs where you can just throw some money and some good, old-fashioned bloodsport all the way to Ryad where fuckers really go crazy. Idea’s that the people-eaters can get their fill and thrills there, from what I hear, but it’s probably just a place for people to get those kinda rocks off too.

[ He’d gone there essentially on Silco’s recommendation just to see what it was about. It’s the kind of place that might as well sing to him for the conflict and bloodshed, but he’d found it lacking. People there might be strong, but they’re not warriors by his measures. So, solidly not his style.

The smell of that hole-in-the-wall grill starts to drift down the alley, and Tezcatlipoca nods as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. He’s trying to finish it up before eating, since he’s at least not the kind of guy that’ll smoke and eat at the same time. ]

As for Silco, simple version is that he’s a nasty lil’ fucker and seems hellbent on sowing conflict wherever he goes. I dig it. Plus, he’s the one that got rid of my brother, so. Respect where it’s due and all.

[ With a smile--no offense taken, people who meet him assume he owns a bicycle and shops organic, and they're not even wrong: ] I'm not squeamish, no.

[ At least without Communion to fuck things up for him, Matt's better at keeping his thoughts to himself. Helpful for when both Silco and Quetzalcoatl come up, especially when he knows the subject's coming because he pursued it himself. Still, Matt will never be anything other than transparent: He can't help a small frown, a slight tensing of his shoulders. ]

More of an acolyte by circumstance, then, not like a--specific pledge. [ A quick shake of his head to clear it. And, after a moment, another smile. ] I hadn't even thought about fight clubs. That's definitely not my flavor. [ Hilariously, Ryad and its people-eaters might be, if past is any prelude. He chooses not to linger on that, lest the conflict play out on his face. ] Not that I don't understand the appeal of getting the blood pumping, even vicariously.

Oh, yeah, fuck no. Pretty sure the guy’s as big of an atheist as comes, even standing in the presence of ‘em. Kinda hilarious, actually.

[ There’s just a tiny note of fondness, but it’s very much of the “can you even believe this shit” variety. Silco is a weird little guy, so Tezcatlipoca likes him. He also deserves every single person that wants to gut him. These are not at all feelings in conflict.

As they slip into the small, dingy restaurant, Tezcatlipoca raises flicks the cigarette to the street and stamps out the embers. He raises a hand to the single person behind the counter with a friendly yo, so clearly, he’s something of a regular. He leads the way to one of the grill-tables in the corner, and here where it’s going to be smoky, he takes off his sunglasses and tucks them into his pocket. ]

But noted. No fight clubs. Easy enough to avoid, at least. At least down here, things are straightforward about what they are.

[ He leans back in the chair with casual ease, and gives a nod to the worker. Yeah, clearly enough of a regular that he has a regular order. ]

We’ll go for blood pumping of a different variety. There’s a place I found that’s perfect for that if you’re wantin’ somethin’ novel. The whole idea is—and I mean this as a compliment—the one of a kind freaks in Kenos. People that ain’t like anything I’ve seen ‘cept in movies.

Well ... that's not so surprising to me. Belief and knowledge are different, right? I believed in all of you before I had any solid "proof" you were there, so I can see the opposite. Meeting you and still not believing.

[ This, for the record, is his rationale for discarding roughly half of what Set says to him.

Matt enters the small, smoky space with a starving student's appreciation for holes-in-the-wall. A touch of nostalgia, besides; it's a known fact that all the best restaurants in a city come with a frowny-face from the health department. He alights on his own chair and regards Tezcatlipoca with interest. ]

I have to admit, I'm having trouble picturing what'd count as one-of-a-kind by Kenosian standards. [ Which is to say, he's curious. ] I'm in.

I mean, sure, I see it. But it's usually intentional on our part, y'know? Like when I felt like it, I would descend from Ilhuicatl-Teteocan and be the mysterious strange in the night that warriors could test their mettle against. That kinda shit. Plenty of them didn't think they fought the real deal, but it wasn't like I was sayin' who I was.

[ There could certainly be guesses, symbols hidden in how he carried himself and his clothing. But he'd never declare himself straightforwardly. That's why he laughs. ]

Nah, Silco's just... Fuck, dunno. Stubborn? Feels like more than stubborn. Not like he can hide his feelings from me, so I'll figure it out eventually.

[ Over comes the worker with two glasses filled with a cloudy, white liquid, and Tezcatlipoca takes them both. He hands one to Matt, and— ]

[ Immediately, his smile turns into a shit-eating kind of grin. It's mischievous in the fun way, but also, like. Maybe just a little danger way? It's definitely the fun kind of danger of hanging out with (a bad boy) someone who's not exactly a rule follower. ]

We'll leave the club a surprise for your imagination to wind around but, but this—

[ He gives his glass a playful little shake. ]

This is how we're startin' out. Thought it was pulque at first, but nah, way worse. Have no idea what it is. Don't wanna find out. [ sometimes it's best not to ask in kowloon ] It's a real low grade drunk and high, but without the puke-y side effects. Locals call it Braindance.

[ Matt feels like he isn't explaining himself well, which is at least a familiar feeling. Almost impressive that he can manage it while discussing belief with a god. With a wistful pang, he recalls that first Communion with Quetzalcoatl. How he couldn't think of anything to do but spill the entire contents of his brain to her, where faith and magic was concerned. How the Feathered Serpent loved and accepted him in all his messy devotion.

Which is to say, the dubious drinks can't come quickly enough.

Matt takes his up with an alacrity that maybe implies he didn't hear the part about how bad it tastes? ]

You had me at "without the side effects." [ That came pretty late in the sentence. ] Cheers.

[ Matt does, at least, take a sniff to level-set, and isn't totally blindsided by the vinegar-that-came-back-wrong taste. But with his first swallow, he has to really take a moment to convinced his mouth to hold the liquid in. He swallows in a close-lipped gulp. ]

[ The grin alone was probably a hint that this wasn’t going to be a fun experience. It’s like a teenage boy getting someone to eat something gross. Maybe there are some constants in life, no matter what part of it you come from… So, Tezcatlipoca’s expression absolutely lights up to see Matt really struggle with it. He laughs with raw delight and reaches across the table to give Matt an encouraging pat on the forearm. ]

Ha, right?! Tastes awful! You didn’t immediately spit it out though, so that’s pretty good!

[ He’s still grinning toothily when he takes his own gulp. ]

[ …It doesn’t go any better for him. Experience does not, in fact, fix the problem that this tastes like vinegar of suspicious origins and age. His grin is quickly cut off by the pungent taste/smell combo, and his other hand flies up to his mouth. He half hunches over like he’s really about to just spit it right back in the cup.

At this point, the owner comes back over to place down a plate of raw meats to be cooked, and he just looks at Tezcatlipoca with the most withering look. Tezcatlipoca has only been here, what, two weeks, and he’s already getting that kind of reputation? You bet.

But with an unhappy groan, Tezcatlipoca sits back, having managed to. You know. Just barely drink it. Is the combo even worth it? Up to you to find out, Matt! ]

—Augh…… Who the fuck even thought to drink that the first time?

[ Matt regards Tezcatlipoca with a look of sputtering betrayal. It's only slightly alleviated by the fact that Tezca's struggling too. ]

There's not a lot mortals won't do for a shot at getting drunk. [ God, his eyes are even watering. Matt rubs his tongue against the back of his teeth to try and dislodge some of the taste. ] We tried mouthwash as kids, which was ... I think a slight improvement on this.

[ The presence of raw meat makes taking another drink completely untenable. Absolute nonstarter. Matt considers his glass, then Tezca. And an idea unfurls slowly across his face. ]

Let's see. I can't change something's essential nature--I wouldn't want to. [ He flicks a smile Tezcatlipoca's way. In contrast to Tezca's bad-boy, danger-danger grin, Matt's smile is almost sweet. ] But I can be flexible.

[ Matt straightens up, letting his shoulders hang gently and the top of his head lift. He breathes. It doesn't take much: a slight stutter in his breath, a little pink in his cheeks. Golden light etches itself in the air in front of his mouth, his throat, taking the shape of a lotus with a central symbol. Sanskrit. The blossom deepens to an orange hue and disappears, as if he's just swallowed it.

Matt runs his tongue experimentally over his lips. Its movements are a little clumsy. ]

Not usually what I use this chakra for, [ he notes, enunciating with care. He lifts his glass for another tentative sip.

Then he takes a much longer pull, one that drains the glass by a third. ]

[ Tezcatlipoca does watch the process with interest, and in that, maybe there's a little hint as to why he usually wears those sunglasses. Without them, his gaze is noticeably sharp, almost piercing. He's watching like a predator stalking prey more than someone learning something interesting, but maybe that's just the kind of intense vibe he has. After all, once he's done, Matt's display gets a simple— ]

Tch. Cheater.

[ But make no mistake—He is intrigued and impressed. He's a god overseeing magecraft, so of course he is. He gives a Look to his cup like he really doesn't want to do it again... But with a pinched expression, he takes another drink. The second one at least goes down much smoother than the first, and he can only attribute it to the first one burning away all your good sense on the way down.

Now that dinner is here, though. He grabs a set of the tongs and starts to place some of them on the grill to get to cooking. The meat itself is definitely not all from the same animal, but once it starts cooking, it at least smells good? The marinade here might be doing a lot of work. ]

Tell me more about your magic. [ A command, not a request, but it's casual. ] Definitely feels different from the kind in my world. Doesn't seem like you use Magic Circuits at all.

[ Tezcatlipoca also grabs a napkin, but it's not out of quick politeness to prepare for the meal ahead, exactly. It's just used to catch the drippings as he grabs another piece of meat with the tongs and bites into it, fully raw. There's no warning for this seemingly unhinged display whatsoever.

But with his big laugh and other toothy smiles that Matt has seen, he's probably noticed that his teeth definitely aren't fully human. They're much more feline in nature, and apparently? That's not just for show. ]

[ Matt returns Tezcatlipoca's regard curiously, without trepidation or challenge. He thinks about jungle creatures, about those rites where an elect few live as gods until the time comes to be sacrificed. It isn't until he hears cheater that he smiles, his eyebrows hiking playfully. ]

I'm not sure what a magic circuit is, [ he admits, still enunciating with care. Dulling his sense of taste in this blunt way dulls the feeling in his tongue in general. ] So I'd guess not. Let's see ...

[ --Okay, squeamish Matt is not, but between the first horrid sip of this drink and the squish of raw meat in sharp teeth, he needs a moment to be sure he won't be sick. Fortunately, dampening his sense of taste seems to affect smell too. ]

Ah. Well it's based on breath, ultimately. Hinduism calls it prana, like--the concept that the most basic unit of life, of the soul, is expressed and flows through breath. Other traditions might focus on blood, [ whose could those be?? ] but to me--you carry oxygen through your blood, so it's a different route to the same destination. [ He takes another blessedly flavorless swallow of his drink. This spell was such a small thing it's sure not to last long, and Matt wants to finish this before he's reminded what it tastes like. ] My route into magic is to breathe, meditate on an outcome, and channel energy through my body.

[ He smiles. ]

You know. Basically.

[ Tezcatlipoca is at least pretty quick at eating the meat, also in true Cat™ form. It makes much more sense why he’d asked now, but he probably could have been a bit clearer why… At least that doesn’t seem to fully be his plan for the meal, since once he’s eaten that piece, he folds the napkin so he can use the cleaner backside to wipe off some of the blood and marinade from his face. All while listening attentively, of course. ]

Yeah, I get it. Works pretty similarly for mages in my world. The metaphors you use are even pretty common ones, but I assume that’s just because it works well for conceptualizin’ it.

[ He tilts his head slightly as he looks at Matt, but it’s like he’s looking past him. Or rather, scrutinizing for something that isn’t seen physically. He ends up laughing, though, then reaches across the table again to hand the tongs to Matt. He’s on duty for picking the level of doneness, apparently. ]

…You’d make a mage from my world jealous, though, bein’ able to do it that easy. Mages get up to all kinds of crazy shit because Magic Circuits are inherently limited. Just think of it like a nervous system that you push your magical energy through, and the amount you get at birth, that’s all you got.

[ It’s much more complicated than that, but despite giving this much freely, he’s not actually inclined to dive into the subject fully. It doesn’t feel particularly relevant to him, since beyond the two mages from his world that are here, it doesn’t matter much. It’s a world that’s dead and gone, and other worlds and Kenos itself have their own. The explanation remains as something more like academic curiosity. ]

‘Course, not that I interact with mages all that much. Ironic, all things considered, but ever since the Age of Gods ended, they’re a pretty atheistic bunch. [ Which. He clicks his tongue as he remembers. ] I mean, shit, one of ‘em here told me that to my face. You're probably more of a believer than I've met in a long fuckin' time.

[ He gives a glance to the cup of pain like he's going to try again, but... No. He waits. ]

Edited (repetitive,) 2024-02-26 21:41 (UTC)

Well, there's definitely limits to what I can channel just by myself, [ Matt notes. He takes another gulp from his glass. He feels a tinge warmer, but he's not sure if it's hitting him yet or if the feeling is psychosomatic. ] Or even with a partner. But none of that's finite--I don't know if that's what you mean about the circuits.

[ Matt can't help a charmed smile at being called a believer ... or close to one, at least. Touched. ]

I don't think I'd be able to fully explain my perspective. But ever since I figured out I could do magic, I felt connected to this bigger force. It felt so big, and so ... specific, or intricate, and alive ... that I think connecting that force to deities with names and personalities just made sense to me.

[ And yet, Matt's not offering to cast his taste-dulling spell on Tezca's tongue. The secret to that might lie in his expression as he watches him debate his next sip: whimsical, drifting towards what you might call impish. ]

Nah, finite-finite. A hard limit on what you could ever even do with the height of study. Circuits is a pretty modern name for 'em, since it's the best analogy. You can do a lot with a circuit. It's versatile. But you can still only put so much power through 'em. And put too much, and boom, you fried it. No more magic. Maybe no more you if you fuck it up bad enough.

[ Not to mention that nowadays (so to speak), the number of Circuits mages had was comically low by his standards. It's, what, twenty, he thinks? If that... It's also why he's sure there's more of a disconnect, since Matt's feeling of connection to the world definitely isn't similar. Mages were basically just scientists and rationalists. Matt has the sort of poetic spin that they lack.

However, whatever appreciation he might have for that is dulled by that impish little smile. His lips purse into a tighter frown. ]

Yeah, yeah, you keep grinnin', you lil' shit.

[ He's definitely not grinning... But with a click of his tongue, he raises the glass to take a big gulp. More than half gone after it!

...It's worse than the last drink, though. This was supposed to be getting better as it goes on! Whatever wise words he might have had about connection to the universe are instead lost to this horrible, horrible drink. He snatches the tongs back quickly to snag another piece of meat that he tears into with a bit more vigor this time. It definitely gets the taste out of your mouth, at least. ]

[ Matt bursts into a laugh, surrendering the tongs ~~that Merc forgot about~~ without struggle. For a moment, he's seriously tempted to say something like, "If you ask me really nicely, I could cast it on you too." He can almost feel the words taking shape on his tongue.

But something tells him he should hold off. At least until he has a better sense for how Tezcatlipoca takes that sort of teasing. ]

Sorry, sorry, [ he says cheerfully. And un-sorrily. ] I promise, the next thing you tell me to put in my mouth, I won't cheat about it.

[ A dangerous blank check, Matthew Jamison! But he doesn't spend any time reflecting on that. He can tell by how easily that last line came out that he truly doesn't have much time left on this spell, so he tosses back the rest of his drink with one long swallow. ]

[ The “sorry”s get Tezcatlipoca to shoot Matt a little glare because he can hear that you’re not sorry, but it’s really only a flash of it. Since, with how he continues… ]

Bro…

[ Perhaps it is even more of a bruh in tone. That’s all that need be said for that innuendo, unintentional or otherwise. Plus, he’s got his mouth full, so he finishes off his slice and grabs another napkin to wipe at his face before handing back the tongs. With the blood still fresh on his tongue (and to just get this over with), he grips the glass and also finishes it off. The lingering taste of the meat does, in fact, help, as this one goes down the smoothest of all.

He sets the glass down roughly as he sits back in the chair again with a sigh. At least that final gulp also comes with the pleasant warmth of it settling in the stomach. It’s a nice prelude to the kind of drunk/high it comes with, since at least despite the awful taste, riding it out is pleasant. ]

[ The truly tragic part of this is that insofar as Matt expected any reaction, he kinda thought Tezca might dare him to take a bite of raw meat. (Or to drive the tongs through his tongue.) So when he laughs this time, he at least has the good grace to look embarrassed.

For a moment, at least. He's starting to feel too warm to let his faux pas keep him down for long. Matt focuses on the meat he's holding over the grill. His sense of smell is only gradually returning, so he has to judge it by sight, but once he spots the first hints of char, he removes it and offers it to Tezcatlipoca. ]

I'm not that hungry, [ he explains. It may have something to do with the fetid vinegar taste that's started to haunt the back of his throat. ]

[ The embarrassment just get Tezcatlipoca's sly smile to return, and when offered, he'll take that cooked meat happily. ]

Suit yourself.

[ He eats it with a little less vigor than the raw meat, but that's largely just because it's not, you know. Dripping. So it's a little less of a race to try and get it down before it makes too much of a mess. ]

Just so long as it's the Braindance sayin' that and not, y'know. [ He laughs a little and gestures to the remaining pile. ] Eatin' it raw kinda freaks people out, so you're takin' that pretty in stride too.

Oh, it's absolutely the Braindance, [ Matt says with a cheerful grimace. He considers the raw meat a moment, then Tezcatlipoca. ] I don't know, though, I guess ...

A lot of cultures use animal products in ways that I don't find very savory when you break them down. Mine loves processing them past the point of recognition. And I know a lot of werewolves prefer raw meat to cooked, even when they're not shifted.

[ A momentary pause, the feeling of a missed stair. Matt never knows what tense to use when he talks about home. He wishes English had a hypothetical, or a both-at-once. ]

[ He makes a light noise, a soft, half-huh in between bites, since it is indeed more laid back than he’d expect, a bit. There was no one in Mictlan that really cared (or they would never dare voice it to the mighty Tezcatlipoca), and the most he’d ever gotten from Daybit on the matter was a completely flat-toned reminder to wipe his face. Here in Kenos, though, not so much. He tries to match the ways of wherever and whenever he’s staying (within reason), and he’d quickly found that up in Highstorm or Springstar? Yeah, not as popular. So, there’s a practical reason he likes this place. No one in Kowloon asks questions. ]

Yeah, it’s basically that.

[ As credit for an answer he appreciates, he’ll at least explain it. ]

I’m the Lord of jaguars, so my diet matches ‘em. Anything but meat doesn’t work out great for me.

[ His truest weakness as a god in human form is the most relatable: tummy hurty disease ]

Plus, y’know. [ He waves a hand vaguely as he finishes the piece, then tosses another on the grill. He’ll at least take the tongs back, since if Matt isn’t partaking, he won’t force him to be the grillmaster. ] Fits with the whole sacrifice thing. Not that I’m usually eatin’ what’s sacrificed to me, just symbolically and all.

[ Matt smiles faintly, in appreciation and elucidation both. His reading into Mesoamerican traditions isn't as thorough as some of the self-directed research he's done. And besides, there's no guarantee that what he's read is accurate--accurate to this version of Tezcatlipoca, at the very least. ]

Sure, [ Matt agrees with a nod. ] That makes sense to me. Symbol-sense. [ His lips quirk. ] There's always something metaphorical about magic, the way I practice it. You know, like ... you draw a magic symbol, and that's a metaphor for a piece of the world, which is a metaphor for heaven. The broader universe. Left-hand tantra has kind of a longstanding debate about whether you really eat the meat and fish, drink the wine, and have the sex, or whether it's just a metaphor. [ Matt makes a spinning gesture with his index and middle fingers. ] A metaphor inside a metaphor, I guess.

[ He makes an approving noise, but he does lapse into a brief, thoughtful silence as he considers it. Technically, he has a lot to say on this subject. It's just a matter of whether he wants to or not, and he leans towards not. That's the thing about gods, isn't it? They know the secrets of the universe, but if it comes time to share them... Well. You have to earn it, right? ]

It's an even fuzzier distinction for gods.

[ He won't give practical knowledge, he decides. This the is divine equivalent of a fun fact. ]

Did I sacrifice my leg to bait Cipactli and create the Earth from their body? Or was it created before I existed in the Big Bang?

[ There is a concrete answer here and I fear it's absolutely insane. However, Tezcatlipoca doesn't give it. The question itself is all he wants to present in response. Matt seems like the kind of guy that might be rolling that question in his head for a while.

It's also one he'll let him mull over privately, because even if Tezcatlipoca is quite wise as a god, as a person? He doesn't like playing that role. He's too chaotic for it and finds it restrictive. So, his cheeky grin returns, and he points (and clicks) the tongs at Matt. ]

But that's the kinda talk we'll save for when we're good and high-slash-drunk. I don't get a human body well, ever, so I have to put it through its paces, yeah?

Ugh, right! [ Matt exclaims, for the question. It has the timbre of something he's asked himself many a time, and actually, he does have an answer. Or a root network of hypotheses, possibly including a couple spiders. But before he can expound on any of them, Tezca goes on, and Matt has to admit he makes a good point. This is the kind of conversation built for late-night highs, substance-enabled or otherwise. ]

Sure, sure, [ he agrees with a grin. And he salutes Tezca with his empty glass. ] Everything in its time.

[ It's much later by the time Matt recalls the thread of cosmogony, back out on the cramped, labyrinth streets. In his mind, past, present, and future are all threads in the same tapestry, so it doesn't feel like a non-sequitur when he notes: ] I tend to think a lot of different and contradictory things have happened simultaneously. Like, there was a Big Bang, and you did sacrifice your leg, and a lotus grew out of Vishnu's navel--

[ "Navel" feels funny when he says it, but "bellybutton" is nowhere near dignified enough for Lord Vishnu. Maybe Krishna could make it work. ]

--And also, they're all stories negotiated through generations of mortal society.

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1/2

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1/2 again but it's because I too rolled a dice and. well.

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cw: a bit of gory imagery

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