The library was a dramatic change from his usual scene as of late, its interior hushed, uncrowded, and eerily quiet. It was a jarring contrast to the streets of the Night Court, where everything and everyone was hardly in motion, and the music played so loud he could hardly hear himself think.

Here in all the silence that was Delumine, his thoughts felt uncomfortably loud inside of his own head.

The scent of Denoctian spices and perfumes still clung to him, wafting through the otherwise stagnant air in a trail behind him as he walked. His scarves whispered against his sides as he moved, hoofbeats landing so quietly on the earthen floor that he made hardly a sound as he went. Aside from the library keepers, who hardly stopped to acknowledge him, he was alone. Dust stirred as he walked amongst the aisles, scanning the titles half heartedly. Toulouse wasn’t sure yet what he was looking for - only that he would know it when he saw it.

And so far he had yet to see it, or even a glimpse of it; there was not a single hint that he was headed in the right direction. 

His diamond-shod hooves clicked gently across the floor, wine-red tassels bobbing along his scarves with every step. With the beginnings of a frown making itself present on his face, he stopped before yet another bookshelf, as dusty as the last had been. 

Green eyes slithered across the titles, lingering only briefly on any one. Yet again, each of them failed to pique his interest. Is there nothing worthwhile here?

A quick glance around told him no one was watching. And so he reached into the pockets of his scarves, and drew from them a coiled snake. Its gemstone eyes glinted in the dim light, golden scales shining.

“Avekne.”

At his whispered command, the snake came to life. It lifted its head, tongue flickering past its lips to taste the air. Toulouse studied it with interest as it twisted through the space before him, hovering at eye level. He held it up with his telekinesis, so entranced by the snake’s movement that he hardly noticed the footsteps approaching from the other side of the bookshelf.




the motherland don't love you,
the fatherland don’t love you.
so why love anything?

the faithless; they don't love you
the zealous hearts don’t love you.
and that's not gonna change.

ut deo.

@mateo  
partially recycled post, hope that’s alright c’:

The snake writhed in the air, its movements becoming more and more chaotic, tying itself into knots as if agitated by its its captured state. Toulouse watched it with interest, eyes tracing the golden scales that caught and reflected the flames of the torches lining the corridor.

Its skin was glinting with light, each carved scale twisting and turning as if it was truly alive. He knew it wasn’t - but magic was a deceitful thing, turning the inanimate into the animate. To anyone who did not look close enough to see the sharp edges, to feel smooth rock beneath their touch, it may have been enough to fool them. Toulouse would never tell them otherwise, even if they asked.

It was a simple illusion, a harmless trick; but in magic there was knowing. And in knowing, there was power.

He heard the soft footsteps turning the corner, but he ignored them. Every twist of the snake’s golden body was enchanting, hypnotizing; he made sure the dark stranger could see it plainly in the dim lighting, made sure the snake was positioned just so in the air to catch every flicker of light, bright against the dull background of the library.

Come closer, the snake seemed to whisper as its scales slid against one another, I have something to show you.



He had only to wait - and he was not disappointed.

A gasp of surprise, and the snake fell to the ground. It writhed on the floor, twisting and righting itself as the palomino spun to face the pegasus.


Toulouse had known he was being watched - but he didn’t know he knew.

Somewhere on the ground, the snake had twisted itself back around and was beginning to slither away into the darkness.

Green eyes met and matched, one set in a face of black and the other, a face of white. They were near opposites in all but the the color of their gaze - but while Mateo’s expression was one of curiosity, Toulouse’s was filled with hunger. The candor in the pegasus was an opening the wolf in him wanted only to exploit.

“…It is indeed,” he murmurs after just the right amount of hesitation. In one smooth movement, he bent over and swept the golden snake off the floor. "I should have known better than to hide it. Frá svefn,” he whispered, breathing over the golden scales - and the snake became still.

Toulouse turned back to the stranger, the tassels on his scarves swaying at his sides.

“I’m Toulouse,” his tone was still cautious, wary; it was like slipping into another skin, wearing it proudly as his own. Easy, natural, intoxicating. Every new face he met was an opportunity to adapt himself, to become someone new. A challenge he gladly rose to meet.

A prolonged pause stretched between them, the horned man milking every second of it. Until he slowly lifted the snake back up to eye level, and -

“- Would you like to see it again?”

The ruby eyes seemed to be looking directly at Mateo, begging him to say yes.




the motherland don't love you,
the fatherland don’t love you.
so why love anything?

the faithless; they don't love you
the zealous hearts don’t love you.
and that's not gonna change.

ut deo.

@mateo  
I am so sorry for how late this is D:

The dark pegasus leans closer and closer, until his green eyes reflect the golden scales of the shake and Toulouse can see the sculpture’s likeness in his gaze. He’s completely enamored with the magic trick, and the horned man takes great delight in ensnaring him. It’s a show to him, a game of faces.

And he always wins.

It’s so easy, when he has a willing audience, a boy like Mateo who wears his youth proudly, like a badge on his sleeve. His emotions were on display in force, inviting him in, showing his cards. It’s almost too easy to change himself into someone new, to kindle those flames of curiosity with a smile and a wink and a whisper of words that set the snake back to dancing. Every face was different, every name had its own connotations, every person their own tics. Some were simply easier to crack and exploit.

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” he keeps his smile subtle, even shy, letting the other man believe that he’s the one who needs coaxing. “Mateo.” The name is smooth on his tongue, like honey; even as he files it away for later use. If the youth is a member of the court, as he appears to be, Toulouse is sure he will be seeing him again. Thankfully, names came easily to him.

For a moment - but only a moment - he’s afraid Mateo will turn down his offer. He doubts himself in that time, afraid he’s found the wrong button to push, afraid it may have been a morbid curiosity and not a delight that he saw in the boy. And when he inhales, he holds his breath.

”Yes.” He lets his smile break out widely, splitting across his face in joy. “Excellent,” he breathes, releasing his breath. The snake floats back up into the air, filling the slender space between them - and then, slowly, carefully, drifts to the pegasus, inviting him to hold it within his own telekinesis.

And only when he takes it within his grasp does Toulouse work his magic.

“Avekne.”

The snake comes back to life with a dry rustling sound, licking its lips and blinking its ruby eyes. It turns slowly in the air to look at the man who holds it, tail coiling about itself.

“A trader sold it to me in a marketplace, it was so long ago I hardly remember the name of the land,” he lies smoothly, breathlessly, lowering his head to peer at the animated creature. “He didn’t tell me it was charmed - the snake himself did. Every night while I slept I awoke to a soft hissing, like he was begging to be let out. He was always warm to the touch, and his eyes were glowing - some days I put him down on my bedside table, and when morning came he was someplace else entirely.”

His eyes moved carefully from the snake to the pegasus, watching for his reaction, waiting patiently.

And he laughs, the sound as soft and delicate as shattering glass. ”I wasn’t sure I believed in magic until then.”






the motherland don't love you,
the fatherland don’t love you.
so why love anything?

the faithless; they don't love you
the zealous hearts don’t love you.
and that's not gonna change.

ut deo.

@mateo  
i am terrible and you are a saint.

The snake freezes on the table the moment Mateo says the first command, and that is all the confirmation he needs to know he said it correctly. His second try does not yield the same luck, however. The snake remains motionless, a slash of gold on the mahogany table.

“Avekne,” he corrects, and the snake lifts its head sleepily, blinking at the two horses. “With a soft e.” He watches as the snake flicks its tongue, tasting the air, and begins to creep across the table to him.

“It means,” he says slowly, like a teacher with all the patience in the world to spare, “that it will do as I ask.” 

It’s spoken in a forgotten language, the magic that binds the snake to him. The name of it would mean nothing to the youth, of that Toulouse was certain - but it meant something to him. And he would not reveal it quite so easily as that.

The snake turns his head to look at him then, ruby eyes shinning brightly with laughter. Toulouse stares back at it, unblinking, unyielding, watching the golden scales undulate in the dim lighting.

As the snake comes closer Toulouse captures it within his grasp, lifting it from the table. It twists itself in the air, as if displeased. 



“I like to travel,” he tells Mateo casually as he does so. “I’m always looking for a new land, a new world, somewhere, something to keep me entertained. Tell me, do you think Novus is that place now?” Of course he’s already made up his mind that it is - why else would be be here? - but still he pretends to let the pegasus decide it for him, as if his very presence in Novus depends on Mateo’s answer.

“Delumine especially,” he continues. “Wherever there’s so much knowledge and magic, something exciting is bound to happen eventually.”



Toulouse looks at the nearby lantern then, the oil burning low now, and gasps. “My, look at the time. I’ve been in the library all day!” The snake still in his grasp, he peeks his horned head around the corner of the bookshelves.

“Do forgive me, Mateo, but I haven’t had anything to eat since early this morning, and I’m famished. What’s your favorite place to dine here in the Court?”



He turns back to look at him then, and there’s an unspoken invitation in his eyes, as if what he’s really asking Mateo is lead the way.






the motherland don't love you,
the fatherland don’t love you.
so why love anything?

the faithless; they don't love you
the zealous hearts don’t love you.
and that's not gonna change.

ut deo.

@mateo  
kind of fell apart at the end but I figured now was a good time to begin closing this (as overdue as i am)? <3