ArchivedLogs:By Air and By Water

By Air and By Water
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt
In Absentia	2016-01-21 '
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre. A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden. Though there's music audible from upstairs, some indie rock mix drifting down through the walls from Desi's room, down in the living room it is quiet. Dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the yellow glow of streetlamps shining in through the windows and the warm flicker of candlelight cast from two pairs of blue and two pairs of white candles set on a blanket on the floor. A squat cast-iron cauldron sits on the floor as well, a jagged crystal of rose quartz sitting at the bottom of it with a small scattering of soil sprinkled over it already. The scent of myrrh fills the room, a thin stream of smoke coiling up over the scene. Lucien is kneeling to one side of the cauldron, hands cupped around one small gaudily-coloured and unevenly glazed ceramic dish. Filled with snow, his hands are still damp and red from gathering it outside. "{Life giving, life taking; you are the rains that nourish the earth and the torrents that beat it down as well. As the moon lends you her rhythms, you help us find ours. In you we might find our balance or be pulled down --}" For a moment his eyes lift over the flutter of candlelight, across the cauldron, "{-- to drown in all the storms life sends our way.}" He tips his bowl in to the cauldron, letting the snow slide down over the quartz inside. "{As the ice melts, water, lend your strength and your purity as well.}" Across the cauldron, Matt is sitting back on his heels in seafoam green wrap pants, bare from the waist up. The bowl he holds in his hands looks similar Lucien's (though it would be a stretch to say their bright colors /match/), filled with a mixture of dry leaf, bark, and roots. He touches a long, thin wooden stick to the candle nearest at hand and transfers a small, dim flame to his herbs. The fibrous shredded roots catch first, burning down in hypnotic orange-red curls and spreading the glow to the crushed leaves. He lifts the bowl as the fire builds, fragrant smoke rising to mingle with the myrrh. "{Life giving, life taking; you are the flame that destroys life and the sunlight that gives it as well. You well from deep inside the earth and descend from the wildest storm. In you we might find warmth and light, or be scalded and consumed in the cleansing conflagration.}" Tilting the bowl over the cauldron, he sprinkles a shower of fiery sparks over the crystal. "{As these herbs burn, fire, lend your power and your fierceness, as well.}" Lucien sets his bowl down in front of himself, hands falling to rest on his knees. His fingers leave faint damp marks against the pale white linen of his trousers. He sits up a little straighter, the thin fabric of his (also white) button-down shifting across his broad shoulders. For a time he is quiet, watching the smoke curl up, breathing in the scent of the incense, eying the candlelight as it flickers and dances. "{Earth and air, fire and water.}" He extends his hands, now, reaching across for his brothers'. "{As the storm approaches and the moon waxes full, so too shall your energy be joined to ours.}" Matt sets his bowl down, too, and straightens into stillness. He speaks the names of the elements in time with Lucien, then stretches out his hands, lacing their fingers together and encircling the cauldron between them. "{This is our will.}" Lifts their hands up high, fingers unlacing. "{So mote it be!}" He drops his hands away from his brothers' and to the floor. Then, as he unfolds his legs from underneath himself, he adds (his tone no less reverent): "Tide goes in, tide goes out. Never a miscommunication. You can't explain that!" "{So mote it be.}" Lucien drops his hands as well, pinching out the pair of blue candles quickly. He exhales a sharp laugh as he leans back, palms pressing down against the blanket. "The moon would like to have words with you." Matt snuffs out the white candles kind of languidly as he stretches out his legs. His head flops back and for a moment he looks like he might just sink down into a puddle, but he straightens back up a little to flash Lucien a lopsided smile, a faint glint in his vivid green eyes. "{Not really necessary, but I'm always game for a chat with one of the sovereign lights.}" He finally does flop down onto his back, but cranes his neck up again a few beats later. "{/Is/ the moon a sovereign light?}" "I don't recall." Lucien picks up the candles, setting them aside on the coffeetable. The cauldron, as well, more carefully. When he lies down it is less of a flop, stretching out on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace beside Matt, one arm tucking beneath his head and his eyes fixed towards a window. "{I'm sure she'll listen, either way.}" Matt rolls onto his side and nestles his head into the crook of Lucien's shoulder, throwing an arm across his chest. "{Always. I'm the one who needs to remember to listen.}" He closes his eyes, the soft huff of a breath more easily felt than heard. "{I mean. My rhythm could definitely use some help.}"