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. ]

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[ …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.

[ They’ve had their share of fun for the evening—Tezcatlipoca made sure of it. It’s part of his nature to be drawn towards conflict and chaos, which is why he loves Kowloon already, but it’s just as much a part of it that he’s indulgent in this very specific way. The way he sees the world, fate, luck, all of it, he has a better sense of how quickly things change. Good luck always leads to bad luck and vice versa, so you have to enjoy the former while you have it. It’s not the most cheerful view of things, though, which is why he keeps it to himself.

It's led them to bars of many varieties, since Tezcatlipoca still feels like he’s exploring Kowloon, and thus wasn’t content to stay in one spot too long. Maybe one drink or one thing to smoke, then it was onto the next. The evening had ended at that especially unique club that Tezcatlipoca had mentioned. The workers there were indeed one of a kind for Kenos, and considering it was a strip bar, well. There were all new kinds of genitalia to be seen. Also new numbers of them.

But after that, he was feeling the siren call of bed. He has a pleasant amount of drugs and liquor in his system. Enough that he probably won’t embarrass himself, but also, no guarantees there. It’s at least not so bad that Tezcatlipoca had needed to barge into Silco’s office and demand to crash there. He leads the way back to his apartment, but the buzz has made him feel hot, so he has the jacket casually slung over a shoulder as they go. It not only shows the matching tattoos on his upper arms (and a bit of one peeking out of his shirt on his back), but the holster that he’d been hiding under the jacket with the gun now fully on display. This late, anyone else out and about needs to see it as a sign to try their luck elsewhere, he figured.

When Matt starts talking, Tezcatlipoca tosses him a curious glance at first, but he laughs after it takes him the second to catch up. ]

—I guess I did say we’d save it.

[ He reaches into his pants pocket to pull out his keys, since they’re close. He twirls it around his finger and nods, though his words are slurred by this point in the night. ]

Least in my world, yeah. That’s how it goes. Reality ain’t as concrete as people think. Also a lot fuckin’ weirder than people think. But there’s plenty that’s just misinterpreted too. Ain’t as clear where shit comes from when you don’t have the Gods able to chat with ya whenever we feel like it.

[ It's not the first eclectic tangent from Matt this evening. The most notable was probably the one he went on at the strip club, which involved it's so humbling to be reminded of just how broad the spectrum is for body patterns, ways of taking shape ... it's beautiful. One might reasonably think he just gets maudlin when he's had a few, except Matt is always like this. Ready to spout poetry over the origins of the universe and strangers' genitals alike.

For now, he beams back in the face of Tezca's laughter. He feels gloriously unselfconscious, like he's walking on air. Some of that air is made of scattered trash, and that's okay by him. Matt doesn't rely on drugs and alcohol to take him out of his head (most of the time), but he can appreciate their powers in that regard. ]

Even the embodied presence of gods isn't really a guarantee, [ he points out. He's gotten a bit overheated himself, in the course of the evening, and a few of his shirt buttons have come undone. ] I can talk to a human person and misinterpret what they say, so you being here doesn't mean I'll understand you unless I know how to listen.

... It probably is easier than not having you here, though. Easier.

[ It’s definitely a conversation that Tezcatlipoca will attribute to the night out, then as they get to know each other more, look back and be like “wait—”

For now, though! He dips his head in agreement, and there’s a look of somewhat reluctant concession with it. ]

…Well, you got me there. Plenty of shit that did come from us that got, uh, misunderstood.

[ In one sense, the misunderstandings were small, just unclear language about how best to do things, numbers, things like that. On paper, it’d be very clerical. But in practice, it was the human sacrifice element. Like, they did want the blood and appreciated the sacrifice, since it empowered them, but. Sometimes it got out of hand with the sheer amounts with, say, the dedication of a temple or something like that. Especially his temples…

They turn the corner of the dim corridor, and Tezcatlipoca nods. ]

Yep, there we go. I was pretty sure this was the right way—

[ …With how he trails off, there should be some doubt about his confidence. But he heads to a door that outwardly is no different from any of the others. It’s rough and ramshackle with one big, keyed lock, and lots of dents and indications of deadbolts (absolutely plural) on the other side. He misses the keyhole on the first try, mumbles a curse, but on the second, it’s more successful!

With showy panache that comes solely from his inebriation, he steps inside and grandly gestures to the apartment like it’s a palace. It, of course, is anything but. In fact, Matt can see all of it, save for the bathroom and narrow balcony. It’s dingy and a bit rundown, like everything else in Kowloon, but it’s clean. At first impression, there’s nothing particularly interesting about the objects in it—it just seems like a normal, lived in apartment free of decoration. But there is the faint smell of copal that clings to the air in here rather than the mustier air in the corridor.

There is also only one bed. It is not very big. ]

And here we are. My incredibly fuckin’ humble abode.

[ But he sounds fond when he says it. Even though he’ll give Silco a hard time forever, he’s actually genuinely appreciative to have this place. Now that they’re here, he tosses his coat over the single chair, then starts to clumsily fuss with the strapping of his holster to take it off. ]

[ Matt continues to find Kowloon fascinating, if not always aesthetically pleasing. The sheer number of apartments they've crammed into such a small geographical area is a masterclass in housing density. It's honestly hard to tell the difference between street and building, at the edges; it all bleeds together into one swelling, rickety puzzle-box.

Probably not safe. But these days, what is?

Waxing poetic isn't something Matt does just when he's been indulging. But something that is a little more exclusive to that realm: When Tezcatlipoca says he's "pretty sure" they're headed the right way, Matt says oooh. He pumps a fist in the air as he fumbles key into lock. And at Tezca's showy gesture--

Rainbow-colored sparks shower down on them like intangible confetti. ]

Yesss, [ Matt exclaims as he slips inside. He peers around the place, which is honestly not much smaller than his student apartment back home. It's also way tidier. ] I have to admit, I wasn't sure we'd make it.

[ He's about to start the considerable task of unlacing his boots when he notices Tezcatlipoca struggling a bit. He steps closer, reaching out to tap gently at his fingers. ]

Can I help?

Woah-

[ Tezcatlipoca laughs in surprise at the sparks, but he’s absolutely in the headspace to enjoy it more than he might normally. That probably doesn’t help with his fumbling, since his attention is on the fading lights as he tries to work at it. ]

My sense of direction is usually better, but it gets all fucked up in here… Too… Well, y’know. We just went through it.

[ Maze-like, he means, but there’s slightly more to it than that. He wouldn’t articulate it well at the moment, though. He’s a god that’s closer to nature than civilization, so the streets of Kowloon are unnatural, whereas he could navigate deep woods without any problem. The novelty could be why he likes the modern world, though.

As Matt reaches out, Tezcatlipoca makes a light noise, then looking over to him— There’s definitely a look for just a moment, but it’s hard to place. It’s closest to hesitation, but that doesn’t seem to be it, since there’s only that little beat before he nods. It’s something easily attributed to being under the influence. ]

Yeah, help me out. Easy to put this shit on when I’m goin’ out, but getting’ it off’s another matter.

[ And as he does, Tezcatlipoca lapses into a silence that's thoughtful, but it's short-lived. There's a different question he wants to ask, but there's one that has to precede it. ]

...Haven't talked about it, exactly. But you pick a side in all this shit yet?

[ Matt catches the look, insofar as he waits until he's given a clear yes before encroaching any further. But he's not sure what it means; a moment later, he forgets it entirely as he absorbs himself in the matter of buckles and straps.

He chuckles, hmm, for Tezca's remark about the comparative ease of putting this thing on versus taking it off. His fingers move slowly over the straps across Tezca's back. Half because he presumes this gun is loaded and doesn't want it to hit the floor and go off. Half because he wants to triple check that his body is where he thinks it is. The downside of drugs and alcohol is that sometimes they push him away from a sense of embodiment, rather than into it. ]

Oh, [ he says, at the question. ] Ah, yeah. Picked during the attack in Springstar.

[ He coaxes one strap free of its buckle, hanging onto it for a moment to make sure nothing's going to fall. ]

You know how it is ... people in trouble, all I have is magic, there's only one way I know of to get to the magic ... so Zenith it is.

[ It’s a fair concern, especially considering his stupid, high ass forgot about the gun part of this equation, clearly. Since as that one strap is loosened enough that the holster sags with weight, Tezcatlipoca makes a light noise (maybe a slurred, mumbled curse, it’s hard to tell), and pulls the gun out of the holster so that it doesn’t fall. It also gives him something to do with his hands, since even dulled, it’s almost muscle memory to start to fiddle with the gun to unload it. ]

So, you and I are allies. Nice.

[ That’s one part of why he asked, though in a way, it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d answered Meridian. It’s just the choice itself that matter to Tezcatlipoca. But it’s a more convenient answer for what’s on his mind and the source of that look. ]

You ask for a Shard?

[ With a smile: ] Yeah--guess we are.

[ The set of Matt's shoulders goes a little bit easier when Tezcatlipoca takes the gun in hand. He's holding more tension than he realized. Talk of Factions tends to stress him out more now than it did before he harmonized--though of course, circumstances have changed since then. He sighs out, reminding himself to breathe deeply. Cleansing breaths that taste faintly of copal.

And, for the second question: ]

No. [ Matt buys time fiddling over the straps, though they aren't truly that complicated. They're unfamiliar to him, and he's a teensy bit crossfaded, but that's all there really is to it. ] I haven't asked for anything.

[ With the gun safely out of the way, Matt unhooks the last buckle. He stays close, but waits for Tezcatlipoca to move to get a sense for where it'd be most helpful to nudge the straps. ]

[ The slightly clumsy handling with the straps isn’t something Tezcatlipoca minds. He’s focused on unloading the gun, which goes smoothly, but also his own thoughts. He dumps the bullets into his hand as Matt undoes the strap, but he lets it hang there for a moment as he looks at him. ]

What- Seriously?

[ He’s genuinely shocked, since with his impression of Matt, he’d figured the question would be rhetorical. Of course he would, right? He wasn’t some psycho like Silco that fucking hated his world and (Tezcatlipoca assumed) had no one they wanted to save. He had to assume it was a hard choice for mortals, sure, but he still would have guessed he would have picked one. ]

Ah, shit…

[ …Where does that leave him, then? Actually desiring things, caring about them, that doesn’t go well for him. He’d thought that the offer was fine in the sense of that kind of cosmic balance, because surely it wasn’t out of the ordinary enough for the proverbial scales to balance.

He sets the gun on the tiny table and dumps the bullets next to it. At least with one strap undone, the whole harness can be shrugged off more like a jacket, since it’s just getting it loose enough across the shoulders that’s most helpful. The rest he can manage himself, such as the lace-up boots they both seem to favor. He tosses the harness over the chair too, then goes to take a seat on the bed where it’s easy to lean over and undo them. He nods lazily for Matt to join him, if he wants. ]

Figured everyone did. [ It’s mumbled, and that’s not wholly because of the intoxication (just mostly). ] You thinkin’ about it still, or…?

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cw: a bit of gory imagery

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