HI MATT

[wearsthecoats]

Sherlock has:

• an armchair by the fire
• an expression of unreasonable cheer
• a mug of cold-pressed coffee
• a truly impressive collection of hickeys, accented by a well-bitten lip that only recently stopped bleeding.

Comments

[semicharmed]

Matt nods, sliding out of his lap, and stands somewhat jelly-legged (and a little dreamy) while he ponders.

First of all: pants off, boxers on. His jeans have some white streaks on them, but he's not too worried about it. (He nudges his shoes and socks off while he's at it.)

A moment's rummaging in his bag, and he comes up with a few crumpled coffee-shop napkins.

"Uh ... unless you'd rather do it in the civilized way, with soap and a towel. I don't currently have either."

[wearsthecoats]

"I do," he says, waving a hand in the direction of the bathroom.

[semicharmed]

Matt's eyebrows climb, but he redirects and heads that way.

After a moment, he calls, "You particular about type of soap? Because I only see one."

[wearsthecoats]

"Not at all."

[semicharmed]

A few moments later, a still-glowing Matt emerges with a dampened towel and the soap, which he works into a lather.

"That was an Intention," he says conversationally, as he comes back around the couch and starts to dab at the slight mess he's made of Sherlock's chest and shirt.

"It's ... more or less just sex and a prayer, where the prayer serves as a lightning rod for your goal. All I wanted was to keep all the energy here, where I could access it."

[wearsthecoats]

"You certainly succeeded in that," Sherlock observes.

[semicharmed]

He smiles, catching another spot of white with the towel.

"Part two will be a little bit more complex, since I'll be layering ... three spells. I'm going to need to break out my toolkit for that one.

Did I miss any?"

[wearsthecoats]

"No, I am entirely clean, thank you."

[semicharmed]

"Ah. Good. Next step involves a chalk circle, if you have a preferred surface."

[wearsthecoats]

"How large a chalk circle?"

[semicharmed]

Matt considers.

"A few feet, would be most effective? Maybe two or three across, I can stand, I just need to be able to fit."

[wearsthecoats]

"The floor should be fine. Chalk comes out of carpets easily."

[semicharmed]

"That's been my experience," Matt reminisces.

"Okay, in that case ... sorry to keep you waiting, but I feel it's fairly important to get this right. And on the plus side, you get another practical demonstration."

(He may be blushing again just a bit on 'practical demonstration,' but his face is turned industriously towards his bag, where he is currently rummaging.)

[wearsthecoats]

"I very definitely consider that a benefit," says Sherlock.

[semicharmed]

Matt smiles crookedly as he removes his laptop from his bag, along with a plastic bag containing sticks of sidewalk chalk.

"I should have all the sigils on my laptop," he says. "I found some I like, they'll give this thing the direction it needs. And ..."

He turns back to the bag, frowning.

"No bay, no violet ... aha, here we go. Cardamom ... aloe ... where'd I put the rosemary ..."

Eventually, he surfaces with a handful of herbs.

"So, anywhere here is fine?"

[wearsthecoats]

"Absolutely," says Sherlock, watching in mild fascination.

[semicharmed]

"Okay."

Matt sets down his paraphernalia, takes up a piece of chalk, and spends a few moments sketching out a circle that is not entirely closed.

He pops open his laptop. "Magic circles are kind of my baseline. In this case, I have all this energy, right? This circle is going to help me channel it into the self-stabilizing warm aura I described."

He starts to sketch out shapes inside the circle, most of them Sanskrit. "These are related to Agni, who's a god of fire, but there's a little fine-tuning ... I've never cast this spell exactly, but I've done other spells related to stable auras and temperature? I'm modifying a little."

[wearsthecoats]

"Experimental. How appropriate."

[semicharmed]

Matt grins at him, then turns back to his chalk sigils. He checks them against his screen, then double-checks them, and then reaches into his bag for a shallow bowl.

"... For the record, there'll be a certain amount of live fire as part of this demonstration. I promise not to burn anything down that isn't mystically necessary."

[wearsthecoats]

"Acceptable," he allows.

[semicharmed]

"Great," Matt says.

"Because the cardamom is really only gonna be effective for what we need if it's burned."

Matt separates out the aloe from his bundle of herbs, placing it carefully beside a painstaking chalk sigil. He sets his bowl down, pushes his laptop away, and steps inside the circle. With a spare stub of chalk, he closes it off.

"Closing the circle's really important," he tells Sherlock. "I'm not sure if you can see it, but closing a circle imbued with energy like this creates ... like an electrical network."

He takes a breath and closes his eyes.

"I'm going to do the incantation and light the rosemary and cardamom," he adds.

"And then ... we'll see if it worked."

[wearsthecoats]

"Yes," Sherlock agrees, watching in fascination. "Yes I can."

[semicharmed]

Curious, "What is it like, to you?"

[wearsthecoats]

"Like... watching music," he says. "Confusing and vaguely hallucinatory. I know there's a pattern there but I can't quite follow it."

[semicharmed]

He smiles.

And, because he can feel the energy beating around him like a heart, urgent along the edge of the circle and eddying off the small chalk lines, he holds up an apologetic finger for just a sec.

When he speaks again it is in another language. It's low, soft; one of the more distinct words is agni.

This is a spell for an aura that lives beside the skin and just beneath it. It's for heat, as his warmth is the variable he needs to control, and for protection, against changes to the temperature. It's not entirely a shield; it's more organic than that.

A little more breathable.

After a moment he crouches down, careful not to break the bounds of the circle, and sacrifices a very, very small amount of this warmth to turn it into flame. It jumps from the tip of one finger to the cardamom and rosemary, and the smell of them as they burn drifts through the room.

Matt drops them into his shallow bowl and straightens.

The last words of the spell fall like the last notes of a piece, and when the herbs have burned and he speaks them the chalk seems almost to blaze--

He looks different, now. The light beside his skin is darker, less gold and more umber, and there is something ... organized, to it.