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:
enfanir art
