“A janky ass beacon, sure” Cal stated back in a bit of a mocking way. At this point of the altercation, plenty of people have exited the bar. Without paying, of course, though the witch’s concerns were less aimed at the state of tonight’s business and more on the lunatics that had brought trouble to Terrance’s. Calliope frowned at the announcement one those mob people. “The fuck are you talking about?” she said with both disdain and condescension. For a supposedly ‘supernatural safe heaven’, Lethe did have its fair share of maniacs.
With the fire beginning to spread and the lamia next to her having little clue as to how to put it out, Cal rushed to grab a broken bottle. “You know it’s commonly more useful to put out fires than start them, right?” she told Matt as she began to use one of the sharp edges of the bottle to quickly scratch an array of symbols on the floor. “Might want to consider a basic course on that” she said before muttering an enchantment. A faint golden glow appeared in the circle due to the witch’s dispelling magic, which caused the fire on the floor to flicker and die out. There was new trouble thanks to the Molotov cocktails, though… “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”.
“Janky beacon, great ass” Matt says with a finger gun. He likes to think that his general ‘live and let live’ vibe and lax lifestyle serve as an example, either a good one or bad one, and helps other relax. What if shits go wrong? Just gotta roll with it. But then again, there are idiots like these fuckers. Even Matt knows what they are spewing is dumb. As one of the idiots push him to the pool table, he grabs a cue ball and smashes it to their face. After kicking that one away, he channels his energy to his hand, lighting the cue ball on fire. Turning to the one who spoke up about message and shits, Matt hurls it across the room and strikes right in the forehead. “Get outta here, nobody cares.”
Matt keeps close to Cal as she draws some sigils on the floor. “Well, if I start a fire, I usually have a good reason to-- case in point,” he gestures around them before grabbing the cue stick on the floor. He uses it to strike a charging, burly man in the crotch. “And I dunno, man. Never really had to put out fires.” The smoke begins to fill the room. Even though he is draining life-force from the mobs whenever he can, but he is definitely growing exhausted. “Isn’t there like, a-- what was it called? Extinguisher?” He says as he drops the stick as it snaps in two after hitting people a few times.
He turns to the growing fire. Controlling flame is a part of his power. He should know how to extinguish them. He knows how to-- he just doesn’t remember. “I hate this,” he mutters to himself. Gritting his teeth, Matt focuses on that big, black hole he always visualizes in his mind, a shape given to the blindspot in his memories. Did he lose something important through there, or something new came through that hole? He will never know. All that matters is that he needs to put this fire out. It’s like fumbling through the dark room that you have been thousand times before. He remembers faded images of smokes, ashes, burning buildings, charred bodies... And Matt reaches out his hand at the fire, closes it as if he was wrapping his fingers around an invisible neck choking it. With that, the fire begins to goes out.
dailybridgerton
gummygunk
origamiaround
2087
