FAREWELL LOG
Set from October 24th onwards:
( -To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due. )
( -To absent friends, lost loves, old gods, and the season of mists; and may each and every one of us always give the devil his due. )
( ... )
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Cephiro took a seat on the other side of the brazier from Luke, glancing at the pot and chocolate curiously as he did. Oh, he probably knew about hot chocolate, but the way the other man was preparing it had a curious, almost ritualistic manner about it. For a few moments he simply sat there, watching and thinking - content with enjoying the other's company in silence. Yet, even as he was content with it he knew on some level that they would part ways. Most people, he thought, would probably leave, and for his own part Cephiro was not particularly interested in staying or going home. He hadn't broached the subject with Presea yet, but he thought he would find somewhere else to go for a while. It didn't seem wise to return home as a different person, with little knowledge of who he had been before.
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( ... )
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"I don't think there's anything like this where I'm from, either." There had been quite a variety of drinks in the Sphere that had been completely alien to him, but he had at least tried most of the sweet-tasting ones. "Don't tell Smoke I said so, but I think your version is better."
Blood magic - that had been Cephiro's first thought when Luke had proposed the idea. He was a bit wary of the idea, but willing to admit that it was probably just some weird cultural thing. The Force wasn't quite like magic, and even if it were there was no logical reason why using blood was inherently evil. Besides which, he trusted Luke, so he pushed away his preconceived notions and settled in to listen.
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"It does help," he admitted. Perhaps that would help, in general - not thinking of death as the end of life but the beginning of something else. There must be some analogue to the Force in his native belief system--
Cephiro's expression change was palpable: the look on his face was unmistakably that of a young child who has just realized that he has been tricked into eating vegetables. And that he would do it again.
"... Oh, this is religious."
That wasn't the point, though. The point was the last bit, which he nodded to. He wanted to say something like, 'don't worry, I won't do anything stupid like bother you every fricking day' but he felt that something like that should probably be assumed between them. Or else they wouldn't be having this conversation. On the other hand, maybe it needed to be said for some reason. Cephiro had no clue, so he took a long sip of his drink to prevent himself from opening his mouth.
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( ... )
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"The second one would probably be preferable," he said, doing what he thought was a fairly good job of ignoring his tongue and toes now what he had been reminded of them. "Unless it matters to you."
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"Let me know if this is too awkward," he said, taking the other man's hand and guiding his thumb towards the center of his chest. Close to his heart, though he only realized the symbolism once he had placed it.
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There was a flicker of movement the instant before contact, as if the couple drops of blood on his thumb had started to move. Then the distance was closed, and Luke was almost leaning in as the sense of focus came back, not quite the same.
It did indeed have that acidic feeling of skin getting eaten at unevenly. It wasn't strong enough to hurt, quite, but it wasn't far off, and there was a sort of radiating effect coming off it. Maybe that was just the pressure ( ... )
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"Are you?"
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( ... )
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"Every day," the mage replied, nodding. That was one of those things - he had really started doing that well before he had realized that he was a mage, and even before he took up martial arts. It must have been an old habit.
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