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.
enfanir art
