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gotmattitude · 5 years ago

Text

walking on broken glass

WHO: Santana Lopez ( @trickstersantana ) & Matt Rutherford. With a cameo by Daisy!

WHAT: After avoiding the elephant knife in the room, Matt and Santana finally meet up at Undique to talk about things. Spoiler alert: Things get agitated.

WHEN: August 10th, 2019.

WHERE: Undique.

WARNINGS: Discussions of murder, stabbing, death, discrimination, threatening behavior, violence, and genocide. Lots of heavy stuff.

Matt gets to Undique a little too quickly. Nerves always make him walk way too fast, and fuck, this shit makes him nervous. He books the room and texts Santana the number. As he waits, he considers summoning Sydney to vent before he and Santana actually talk, but decides against it. He wants this talk to be honest, and organic. Not some dumb speech he knows by heart. So he just sits on the floor, and takes a breath.

Santana walks to Undique reminding herself what she has for self defense. Who she has to defend herself against. Everyone who accompanied her to any tortured plane. Quinn, Marley, Kurt, Joe, Brittany, Elliott. And then Matt. The truth was slipping through her fingers and she keep trying to hold it up. But she had to change her strategy. She opens the door to the room. Matt is already there. "Hello Matt. You wanted to talk. Talk."

Matt's head snaps up, but he doesn't stand up yet. "Yeah." He looks back down, and takes a deep breath. "I know I fucked up that day. I thought... I don't know. I thought blind loyalty was what trust felt like. Which is fucked up. And I think I gotta look into that shit. Reevaluate how I see people or something. And, uh... the only reason I backed out of that deal was because I thought I'd get fucked up. I wasn't thinking about you, or why you were so desperate to do it. I--yeah. I'm sorry. I was selfish, and a dick, and I'm sorry." He looks up at her towards the end, and pulls at the hem of jeans, fingers itching for a distraction. "I wasn't sad--I was angry, when you were missing. I was fucking mad that you tried to stab me and I was the one hanging around feeling guilty. And I think that's still in there, or some shit. But I didn't think. Which is bullshit, because I'm always fucking talking about privilege and I--" he shuts his eyes for a second. "That's not the fucking point. Santana, you're--you don't need to be human to... I don't know. To be worthy? I was... wrong. I should have... I'm sorry."

Santana looks unimpressed. "That doesn't sound like blind loyalty to me. You wanted to give it all, but you couldn't." He had to say it. 'Desperate'. 'You don't need to be human when that's not what she wants to hear' .She wants to call him out but she waits for him to finish it all. She waits, getting more and more annoyed. "You're angry. Then don't fucking apologize." She illusions some knife to play with. "What's your fake sorry for? You're 'sorry' this ended up like this. You are sorry you didn't act 'perfectly' just as I wanted. You are sorry so I apologize too. I'm not going to apologize for shit, Matt. I am not sorry." She throws the illusory knife to Matt. "That's still there or some shit, uh? Then fucking get it out. Stop trying to be a good friend and say what you really feel!"

Santana: 1d7 Attack to Matt = (5) = 5

Matt: 1d7 counter santana = (7) = 7

Matt remembers why they're fighting again. Santana can be so frustrating. "No, you're right, it's not blind loyalty to let someone lay you on an illusory magic circle on the floor to achieve a purpose neither of you fucking understand!" He kind of wishes he could just make her understand, but that's not the point of this whole bullshit. It's not. "Oh, yeah, you're right! Because I'm goddamned Tinkerbell and I can't have more than one feeling at a time? And that makes my apology fake!" The knife comes at him, and he throws himself to the side, and his swinging leg hits her as he avoids it. "Fine! You want me to say what I feel? I think you're frustrating as fuck, and I still think you're my friend, and I'm still sorry, and I'm still mad!" He scrambles to his feet, and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm trying to apologize for being a dick, and you fucking attack me! You tried to fucking stab me, and that doesn't mean I didn't fuck up too! Shit is more complex than me sucking up to you, Santana!"

Santana falls to the floor, but stands up again, stepping down from Matt. "You were the one who didn't understand!" She corrects him. Santana laughs bitterly, after Matt's rant. "Hell, that's more like it! Thats way more real!" She illusions the magic circle under Matt again. "Yes. I did that. Well, I tried more than just stab you. I didn't plan for you to die, or get hurt, thought. I trusted you wouldn't die. I trusted you wouldn't get hurt. It is a trust ritual, you know?" She shrugs and smiles. "And well, if it didn't work... you were a risk I was willing to pay." The illusory magic circle painted on the floor under Matt shines and shadows appear to get him. "You're my dear friend too. Just so it happens that we both are really dangerous when we have to get our way."

Santana: 1d7 Santana attack to Matt = (1) = 1

Matt: 1d7 counter = (6) = 6

Matt throws his hands up when Santana tries to correct him. "You fucking told me yourself you don't know what becoming human means! You're just being stubborn because you want to think you were being smart!" Santana has a fixation with brutal honesty, and if she wasn't fucking attacking him, he'd spend more time pondering it. "I was a risk!" Matt laughs, but it hurts, like speaking too loudly when your throat is sore. "My life was a risk you were willing to take! Because, obviously, a knife in my chest doesn't have the goal of hurting me!" He almost doesn't notice the circle and the shadows, but he steps forwards and shoves her, a little harder than he'd meant to. "Why do you keep trying to hurt me?!" Matt's voice breaks just a little in the middle of the sentence. "Was that what you wanted this whole time? A friend to risk?" His breathing comes in quick, sharp bursts through his nose, and he bites his tongue. "Because I know what I wanted! I wanted to be--I just wanted to be important. Isn't that fucked up? If I was important--to you, to anyone, nothing else mattered! What did you want?"

"On a metaphysical sense! I knew the ritual was going to work" Santana lied. She had to trust it was going to work. "I'm always smart and you know that!" She lies again. Santana can see the word reached him, and yet he pushed it more. "Yes. You are correct. Except in the part of a knife on your chest. I wasn't going for your heart." Then Matt shoves her back, and he's pretty strong. He's an athletic dude and she is a fake illusory body. She steps back. Matt keep asking her questions. And she stops the illusions. She stops any fake expression of superiority. Trying to find an answer to the questions. "Being important? Isn't that what most people want?" She asks back. "For me, being important was always the back up plan. If I can't become human I can always become relevant. Doesn't matter how. As a villain, as a monster. Just being remembered" She admits. "Why do I hurt you? Or people, in general? I don't know, maybe that makes me important to them. Hate runs deeper than love." She walks around Matt. What she really wants. Her goal- She sees all her illusions failing. "What I wanted is to be a real person." She says, making illusions of herself while she walks, some running to attack Matt, others staying, walking around him, so she could get lost on the copies.

Santana: 1d7 = (2) = 2

Matt: 1d7 counter = (7) = 7

Matt wants to fucking scream. "Alright, sure! It was gonna work. Work how?" A part of him realizes she's going in circles because she was really that desperate to have things change. But everything is going so fast that he just wants her to get it. "I don't give a fuck which of my vital organs you wanted to fucking stab! You're telling me you thought a knife in my body wasn't going to hurt me. Just fucking admit--admit my entire-ass life was disposable for you!" He can see the drop in her expression, and his breath catches for a second. Maybe he can get to her, maybe there's something to this, maybe. "I don't know if that's what everyone wants. I want to be number fucking one in someone's life, Santana. Everyone I love has someone they give a shit about more than me. And I--I wanted--I want that. And I--I was almost willing to get stabbed for a mysterious shitty ritual for that shit!" Matt's breathing is quicker, a little erratic. A villain, a monster. He remembers he compared her to the monsters making bargains, and even though he never said it out loud, it's like the memory punches him. "Is that what you really want? To become human? Why did you stop that day? Why were you relieved?" Matt asks, a touch more quietly. "It doesn't. And I--I don't hate you. I just don't get it. You don't have to hurt me. We can just talk." Santana drops a bomb (metaphorically, thank fucking Aether), and then she starts multiplying, and it's almost overwhelming, but he takes a second, and spots the real Santana--he thinks. Wincing, he dashes towards her, and grabs her by the shoulders. His first thought is to shake her, but he suppresses that. "You're a real person, damn it! You have thoughts, and feelings, and yeah, you're right; always fucking smart. You've always been a real person. And I'm really fucking sorry that--that I helped you believe otherwise. But I was wrong. I was wrong."

Santana is getting angry with these questions she pretends she has an actual answer for. "Magic, jerk! What else!" She can admit it. That was the whole deal. Of course he was disposable. She doubted. C'mon, just fucking admit it all. Throw all the salt to the wound. All of it. "Of course you were disposable." Geez why do I feel bad about this? This was what she wanted to say. This was what she wanted Matt to know. Why is she even feeling guilty about? The goal is to make Matt angry about it. Whats the problem? That Matt is going to be sad about it? She is getting angry and impatient. "You should give a fuck! You can live with a kidney less but you can't with a heart! Is not like I planned to kill you. I would rather keep you alive." She knows is super bullshit so she decided to make it all worse. "Number one uh? Well, just so you know, you weren't even my first choice for this. What's even your problem, Matt? That's so fucked up. Is that what our friendship was? Just you wanting to be number one for anyone, no matter who? Then are we so different? We were just using each other to get what we wanted." She smiles, trying to get back on a closed off attitude. She gets annoyed. Why did she stop? Why was she relieved. "Is what I really wanted. Yes. And I don't know, maybe I just got paranoid it won't work with you because all our fucking conversations of you saying you're not fully 'human'" She remembers with annoyance. "Geez, Matt, what's wrong with you? You don't hate me, and what? You don't hate Yeyun either? Are you going to tell him to talk next time you see him?" She judges him. Matt then picks the real her and grabs her. She steps back again. "Oh, really?" She says, serious. "Am I a real person? Then, let's see. You found the real Santana between illusions. But can you pick up the real Santana now?" She says, turning into her animal form at the same time she summons Daisy and uses illusions to make the whole fucking zoo around Matt.

Santana: 2d7 This is not an attack. This is too see if you can recognize who is the real Santana = (4+2) = 6

Matt: 1d7 Animal recognition = (4) = 4

Matt wants to throw something. “‘Magic,’” he says adding air quotes around the words, “is not a fucking explanation. That’s like saying it was just gonna work because you believed really hard. And that’s some... sad as fuck bullshit but it’s still bullshit!” He knows she’d seen him as something to use, but the confirmation still feels like a blow to the pit of his stomach, and he lets out a sharp breath in response, like maybe it would help it sting less. “People are not paper cups, Santana,” he says, but he can’t fully suppress the wavering in his voice. “You can’t just take what’s inside and dump them where someone else will deal with them! I’m real fucking sorry that you had a shitty family, but you don’t get to do that shit and get away with it! I’m not—I’m not disposable, recycled, a piece of fucking trash!” Or maybe he is. He tries to shake those thoughts away. “Why would you rather keep me alive? To harvest more of my organs?” He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it at all. What is she saying? “Shut the fuck up, you know I didn’t do that shit. I fucking liked your company! I think you’re a fucking cool person! How goddamn terrible of me! If you were using me, then don’t project your motives onto me!” Matt remembers the humanity conversation, and now it’s obvious the ritual was what it was aimed for. “That’s bullshit. You could’ve stabbed me and made sure it didn’t work. That’s bullshit. If you didn’t think it was going to work, and I wasn’t even your fucking first choice, then why me?!” Matt asks, and Aether, what he would give to actually fully understand what Santana is thinking, for once. “You didn’t join an organization whose only fucking goal is to murder a group of people, including people I care about! But you know what? I don’t hate him,” he says, and as he says it, realizes he really, really doesn’t hate him. “Maybe that makes me a dumbass. But I don’t hate you, and I don’t hate Yejun,” his voice is thick with emotion towards the end of the sentence, and he kind of hates himself a little bit for it. Santana asks a much harder question, and Matt doesn’t know what to do. He knows Daisy, at least, and in the chaos of the animal illusions around him, he considers picking her because familiars are part of you, and all that shit. But this isn’t the time. “This is a neat trick, Santana, but how do you expect me to know you if I’ve never seen you like this?” AKA: I have no fucking clue. He stands with his arms crossed, looking at the floor and not at any of the animals around. “Hey,” he greets Daisy, tired and sad, and kind of wishing this conversation will either end or resolve itself magically. “I just want to understand you, Santana. That’s what I want right now.”

Santana makes illusions of her voice echoing around Matt, so he doesn't know where it comes from, while the circle of animals keeps circling around. "Please, like I could explain how I do illusions any different. They just work" She illusions a bitchy laugh. "Hahaha...Am I not getting away with it, Matt? Are you sure? What are you going to do to stop it? Tell people?" She laughs again. "Are you going to tell Elliott? Blaine? The Cardines? Don't you think I have something worse to say about you?" She thinks of how to attack next. Throwing illusory knives out of no where. "I don't need more of your organs! Well, maybe I like your company too, and think you're cool too. But that is not going to stop me." She makes her own voice sound mad. Sounding angrier and angrier. "Why you? Not hating? Yes, Matt, you are a fucking dumbass. Stop this! You are not going to understand shit" Not even she understands it. "What? Why aren't you attacking? I though with this body it would be easier for you to hate me out of survival. Isn't that what happened at Brownstone? Why is this any different?" She says, this time with her own voice, breaking, vanishing the illusion and turning back into her human form. "What the fuck is there to understand, Matt?" She asks, and she can't manage to sound angry anymore.

Matt shakes his head. “Not the same thing. Your illusions might work because of magic but you control them. You’re throwing me illusions that serve your fucking purpose! You don’t just sit there and hope fucking God or some shit sends the right images into people’s heads to help you fight!�� The voices echoing around him are kind of creeping him out, and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “You know what? I’ve been fucking blackmailed by someone a lot more dangerous than you! And you fucking scare me, but not as much as he did.” Matt tries and tries to spot her, but he can’t remember anything she’d ever said about her animal form. “I didn’t mean it like that, anyway. The justice system—it’s—that’s not what... You use people, and eventually they get fucking tired and fuck off! Is that how you want to live? With a never ending cycle of people you use and throw away?” Knives come out of nowhere, and he lifts an arm to cover his face on instinct, but when he lowers it, the illusions are fading before they even hit him. A spark of hope lights his chest. “What does that mean? Stop you from what? Luring me in with friendship and goddamn support just to ditch me if you fucked up and killed me?” He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a breath. “I don’t mean that. I think you didn’t really want to do it. But fuck. How long would it have taken anyone to fucking notice I was dead? Did you think of that?” Part of him really wants to know; maybe she had a spare healing potion, or maybe she wouldn’t have freaked out if he summoned Finn as he bled out. But part of him just wants to believe she didn’t mean to leave him there, bleeding to death in a room that wasn’t really home. “I guess I am a dumbass then! But when I care about someone, I keep on caring about them even when they abandon me, try to kill me, or decide I’m fucking expendable! So why don’t you fucking try me?” Her questions hit him hard in the pit of the stomach, and when he speaks, his voice is heavy.“I don’t hate you, and I didn’t hate them. I was—I just wanted them away from me. And I-I fucked up. But I won’t fuck up like that again. I don’t think... hurting you will stop you. I know better. I just want to talk. I just want to talk.” His muscles release when the illusion does, and his throat tangles into a knot. He has to swallow to level his voice. “You, Santana. I just want to understand you. Because you’re a fucking person, and we’re complicated as fuck.” Matt wants to say how much she’s meant to him, but the words get stuck in the knot that’s tightening back up in his throat.

Santana scoff because Matt is using logic and facts. "Oh, Puck? I can beat his ass just fine!" She knows that is not what matters. "I know that! Then why aren't you tired already?" She shouts, still a bit angry, but her anger drowning out. "Of course I don't fucking want to live like this, dick! I want to change! But doesn't matter how much I try! I just can't" She complains, walking with secure steps in Matt's direction. But he just keeps talking. She covers her ears for a moment. "Shut up shut up shut up!" She uncovers them and looks at Matt. "Luring? I told you! You weren't my first choice! I didn't saw you and said 'Oh, yeah, it would be that fucker!' You didn't seem that easy at all." Of course she didn't think of that. She would leave those problems for later. Her human her would deal with that. He keep saying he cares. "Shut up! Stop this bullshit! Talk about what? Do you think there is a explanation you would like? Do you want a fucking good excuse to keep hanging around? I'm bad, I hurt everyone and I'm going to keep being like this! Forever! I'm not going to change. I can't change, Matt!" She starts tearing up. "Not even... with...fucking...magic." That was it. That's the limit. Magic can do everything but that isn't it. That's why there is not a single instance of the ritual working out. Not on the book of Hamlet. Not on history. Never but in rumours of delusional tricksters.

Matt sighs, blood rushing in his ears. He is tired. But he's not tired enough yet. "Because you're my friend! Because you've been there for me through fucking everything! Because I hurt you too!" But it can't just be that, right? A person can't be doomed to never be better, can't be doomed to use people to her advantage for the rest of her life, right? Maybe they can be doomed to not be forgiven by one or two people, but... Not to be stuck. "Well, then there's something you're doing wrong! Something you're not seeing!" Aether, he really is tired. He's breathing like he just ran a marathon, his muscles shaky and weak. "Then why me? Why me, Santana? Why not anyone else?" If he's so disposable, he has to wonder who was even more disposable than he had been. But when Santana goes on her last tirade, he stops himself from speaking. He wants to yell, to ask her questions, to fucking get some answers. But something feels different, so he holds his breath. "Santana..." he starts, and stops to swallow, to try to collect his thoughts. "You're not... you're not bad. You just... you fuck up. But you didn't... you didn't stab me. You stopped. And you're... you're you. You're different, and strong, and you're my friend. And fuck--you can't change? What are you, God?" Matt tries for a small smile. "Are you telling me you've been exactly like this from the beginning? You've never changed your mind, or stopped feeling one way about something, or decided you were wrong about a choice you made? You can change. Fuck, you are changing. And it's--I just--yeah. Isn't it part of being friends? Changing together? Growing or some shit?" Matt really doesn't know what he's saying. He should probably shut up. "You're my friend, and I still--I still give a shit about you. I just wanna be sure you won't try to stab me again." Jesus fuck, why doesn't he just shut up?

Santana laughs, bitterly, cleaning some tears on her eyes with her hand. "I'm doing something wrong...clearly...ah...so simple"She frowns. That isn't new. That's not useful. "Just do things right...uh...why you? Well, it had to be a relationship build in trust, and when I tried with my 'ex' I got interrupted and I went to NYADA. Someone got ahead of me and tried to do the ritual with Blaine before I could, Ryder got into fucking werewolf camp, Mike died, Tina ended up being a selfish distrustful bitch, Kurt would never fall for it, and it's not like I can stab Elliott, you know? Who else but you? I trust you, Matt. And you trusted me." She smiles, sadly, touching Matt's face with her hand, giving him a soft, harmless slap like she was reminding something to a kid. She genuinely laughs at the god comment. "Ha...I don't want to be god." She is so tired. "Friends? Why do you keep saying that? Don't you have better friends? That's so sad, Matt...ah...change..."She Ieans on him, like she couldn't stand and let Matt hold her weight."...I just really gotten better at pretending..." She hugs him with one arm. More than that, she's using him as a weight to grasp. "If you keep doing this, I'm going to end up bringing you down with me."

Matt realizes how stupid what he said is when Santana starts laughing, but he still can't let go of the thought. There's something there. Something she's missing. Something he's missing. But he doesn't know what it is, so he just doesn't say anything about it. What really surprises him, and what leaves him blinking wide-eyed, is when she really starts talking about her entire... process. He starts ticking off people in his head, and each name she says sends a fresh jolt through his stomach. Those were mostly people that he didn't even know she was close to at any point. He makes a mental note to ask about Tina later on. Who else but him, in the end? A small, but sharp intake of breath keeps his tight throat at bay. "You trust me?" After everything, she trusts him? After what he did? Is it the blind trust she wanted from him that day? Or is it something else? "I still trust you," he says, and surprises himself. "Maybe not in the same way. Not that blindly. Not that... idealizing bullshit. But I haven't lost that." He flinches a little bit when she hits his face, softly as it is; he hadn't expected her to touch him. At least not without hitting him for real. "I don't want to be God either," he says, a side smile tugging quickly at his lips before fading. "It doesn't stop being true because you don't believe it," Matt says with a shrug, stumbling to one side when she starts leaning on him. "Are you okay?" He doesn't believe her. People change. It just takes a different kind of energy to be able to change for good, and not just in reaction. She grasps him, and his own muscles start shaking with the effort. "Santana?" Matt puts an arm around her, and tries to hold her up.

Matt tossed a coin and got TAILS!

The strain on his muscles is just too much, though. He gets down on one knee, first, and then the next, trying to bring her down carefully, panting for breath. "We'll just... we'll just stand back up in a sec, okay? I just--I just want to catch my breath." He lies flat on his back, and closes his eyes. "I just wanna breathe."

Santana laughs at Matt's response. "Really? That's what you ask? Oh man...still?...you have a huge problem. God... this is so fucking ridiculous." She says, looking at Matt. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are your abandonment issues THAT strong? Geez." She looks at him smiling at the minimum show of unhostility. Asking if she was okay. And tries to hold her up, and fails. She stands up with no problem. "I told you." She says, not sure what she is feeling right now. Worry, pity, anger. It was beginning to be uncomfortable. She mutters some swears in spanish. "You are fucking ridiculous! I can't believe this!" She says, starting to get away from Matt. "Fine! I'll let you lose this time, if you want it SO bad." She says, looking back at him. She was annoyed."At risk of repeating myself: This is not going to end well for you Matt. You can trust on that. But I hope it doesn't. Now what? Stand up! Do I have to bring you to the fucking hospital even when you dodged every attack?"

Matt stays there on the ground. Everything sounds sort of far away now, and Santana just keeps saying the same thing over and over. He's wrong, and he's got problems, apparently. "I don't have abandonment issues," he mutters, pushing himself up to his elbows. "I just..." he doesn't know how to end that sentence, so he just plops back down to the floor, shaking his head. "And what is, Santana? What is going to end well for me? I'd love to know that shit." He sighs, but now he just feels uncomfortable. Watched. "I'm being fucking dramatic. I'm fine. You can go, if you want. I'm good." He stares at the ceiling. "I'm tired, and a fucking disaster. I'll get going in a sec."

Santana gives Matt a smile with complicity, after hearing the total denial of an obvious reality. "Hey, people are shitty, we act as we can after all the bullshit, I guess." Matt asks what is going to end well for him. But he is just like her of course. She has no idea what's going for him, or what did he wanted. She always thought he'll got it easier. He'll got a chance, he's a doppel, please, that's basically a witch. He got a job. She always thought the lowest Matt could go could be the higher a trickster could go. Man, look who is envious of people who are also fucked up. "Ha...yeah, things are getting worse and worse. I guess we really are in the same sinking torture boat." She stays there. "Ah, I don't want to go now. Figures." She gets a bit of distance, leaning on a wall next to the door to get out of there, looking at Matt. "Hey, dramatic disaster. I love you too."

Matt shrugs. "Yeah, I guess." He doesn't know what that means, not really. Maybe it means he's not actually that great at knowing people or their intentions. Everything just gets worse and worse. Probably even him, too. He hums in agreement. "Hope there's a lifejacket on this boat, 'cause I don't swim," he says bitterly, less tense. Matt glances back at Santana from his spot on the floor. Why wouldn't she want to go? Oh. There it is. It's kind of bizarre to hear, after everything that just happened, but it draws a small smile on his face as he looks away from her. "Cool."

Santana smiles a bit, still a little...sad? Confused? She isn't sure, and shakes her head. "No no, you have to learn to swim on this bitch of an Earth. Most of it it's fucking water." She still feels weird with everything that happened, for many reasons. And walks to Matt to give him a hand to stand up.

Matt nods, feeling like the energy had been sucked out of him by a necromancer again. "People drown anyway." He stares at Santana when she approaches, taking a moment to take her hand and pull himself up to his feet, and another to look at her, letting the silence stretch. "We should go. I need... a snack and a nap."

Santana looks at him "Then we'll put on a fight before that." She is actually a bit surprised he accepted the help. "Let's go. See you around, Matt."

#trickstersantana #para: walking on broken glass #para: 044 #para: all #para: trickstersantana #trickstersantana: all #cw: murder #cw: genocide #cw: stabbing #cw: violence #cw: gore implied #cw: discrimination #cw: death

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gotmattitude · 5 years ago

Text

leave me with a price to pay

WHO: Santana Lopez ( @trickstersantana ) & Matt Rutherford.

WHAT: Santana has something important to tell Matt.

WHEN: May 28th, 2019.

WHERE: Sciron 106.

WARNINGS: stabbing, racism, transphobia, dysphoria, dehumanization, murder, gore, body image issues.

Santana tries really hard to not run to Matt's sciron door, but she definetivelly walks fasts. The place is a disaster after the earthquakes, but it's now or never. Later the security would be too much. She carries desperation, anger, exitement, helpleness and a knife in her bag. Next to her Hamlet book and a talisman. Before knocking at the door, she adjust her sunglasses. I can't wait to crush them on the floor when I stop needing them. She knows she didn't prepare Matt as she did with Elise or Ryder, but it has to be now before her fake family does something or Matt decides to go to doppel camp. "...hi?" She says really high and softly. She can't even talk because of the nerves. She tries again. "Open the fucking door!"

Matt grumbles under his breath when he hears Santana's voice, almost falling out of the chair as he makes his way to the door. "Jesus, I'm coming," he says, but shakes it off as he pulls it open. She said it was important, and there hadn't even been some biting comment about Marley ending the world or anything. He wonders what it's about. "Hey," he greets, and steps aside to let her in. "What's up?"

Santana enters without saying anything, and closes the door behind her. Then locks it. Then she looks at Matt, wondering where to start. "Alright so, as I have been telling you sometimes, I need help for...a really important thing. That I have been wanting to do for years." She says, very serious and still nervous, like a little girl on her birthday wondering if she is finally tall enough to ride the rollercoaster. One little girl that takes rollercoaster really seriously as her main goal in life. That wasn't a good metaphor. She tries to continue. "And for that I need your trust, my friend." And your kidney. "For me this is death or life, alright? Will you do it, Matt?"

Matt finds himself crossing his arms over his chest as the aura kicks in, but he pushes through it. Behind the aura, the uncertainty, and probably just straight-up nervousness at seeing his friend like this, serious and a little vulnerable, there's the friendship, the history. "I trust you with my goddamn life, Santana." A cascade of doubt starts nudging against him. What if she asks him to kill someone? What if she's just fucking with him? What if she's been manipulating him into thinking they're friends just for this--That's just the aura. It's the aura. It's only the aura. "What do you need?"

Santana tries to contain her smile, but she can't. She hopes it doesn't look suspicious, or too evil."Ha ha...thank you, my dear friend." That's just what I need. She takes Matt's right hand with her hands. Holding it, looking at them. Then at him, hoping he won't laught. "I need you to help me become a human being."

Matt's chest jolts when she smiles, and he's not sure what that means. He squeezes her hand with his, not taking his eyes off of hers, holding his breath. And when she does look at him, another jolt. Is it fear? Hesitation? Endearment? He can't make sense of anything he's feeling, and he breathes out slowly. His eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze shifts down to their hands for a moment. This is years in the making and she's asking him. He looks back up to her, and swallows, steadying his voice. "How are we gonna do that?"

Santana keeps staring at him, but not really looking, when he answers. Why do you accept it so easily? No questioning. Of course she wants to be a human. Why would anyone question that, even if she never talked about it with almost anyone. This is just what you wanted it."I..." She stops holding Matt's hand to search in her bag for the book of Hamlet. She shows Matt, even when she knows it wouldn't mean anything to him. "There is a magic ritual for it. But it needs like, true trust for it. A trust already hard to get for normal people, so you can imagine how hard is for tricksters." She explains, nervously, hugging the book again.

Matt looks at the book, as he gets increasingly nervous. His magic, ordinary and popular, already uses pieces of death to perform spells. What does a magical ritual to transform someone into a human being entail? Massive amounts of energy. His energy? His body? It takes him a second of processing to really hear what Santana's saying. "The aura," he says, biting on the inside of his cheek, and stays quiet for a long second. He understands, he guesses. But she'd never given him a reason not to trust her, and a spark of bitterness rises up from his stomach. Normal people, she'd said. Not an animal. "This is what you want, right? That's how you see yourself."

Santana opens the book. For Matt, it couldn't look more normal. If he tries to read it, it's just Shakespeare's Hamlet. She sees the illusion that floats above the pages, showing the shared knowledge of thousand of tricksters. She moves her hand to go to her favorite page: Human Sacrifices Rituals. She puts the book open on top of Matt's bed. Obviously, she knows it from memory. But only tricksters could see the illusion. If she can see the book as just a book after it, she knows it worked. "Yes. This is what I want. I never wanted anything more in my life than this." She says. "Do you have charcoal or chalk or something? I have to draw a circle in the floor." She doesn't, but that way it looks more real. "I'll clean it after it."

Matt's heart is gaining speed, palms sweaty. He glances down at the book and raises an eyebrow. "Did Shakespeare hide messages in all of his books?" It's a stupid question, and his laugh at the end of it is nervous, but the tension has been building steadily since Santana sent that text, and a part of him is craving easiness right now. When she confirms this is what she wants, he takes one of her hands, and nods. "Then I guess this is what we're doing today." At her request, he digs through his hoodoo altar to the side of the room, and scoops up pieces of loose charcoal, and hands them to Santana. A charcoal circle is vaguely familiar, unlike the rest of the ritual, so it provides a sort of relief. "Sorry it's not in great shape." He chews on his lip for a moment, gears turning. "What should I do?"

Santana laughs a bit, not genuine, the laugh you give to a person who is trying to make a fun joke and fails, but you laugh because you are friends with that person. "Hahaha, no. It's just a cover. I think it's Hamlet because of the infinite m...an infinite whatever theorem. I don't think it matters much." She mentions while taking the charcoal, she doesn't mind the shape, and drawing some fancy magic circle with a lot of details. She actually didn't know how to draw, so she illusioned an actual nice drawing. "Hey, it's a trust ritual. It's all about that. So I can't tell you what's about. You have to trust me." She says. "So if there is a point you don't, tell me. Pretending you do won't work." She explains, unsure. She finishes the pretending drawing. She stands up and points at it. "Lie there. Face up."

Matt didn't know Santana could draw, and it's captivating to look at her adding more detail to the circle, so he sits on his bed, watching her. It adds to his confidence that she knows what she's doing. "Okay," he says, wiping off the sweat from his palms on his pants while she's distracted with the drawing. "No questions." He follows her around with his eyes as she draws, a light chuckle trapped in his chest. "I'm not gonna lie to you. I'm nervous. And yeah, the aura's there. But I don't have to pretend." He's supposed to lie on the circle. Of course. Because this is a magic ritual. He thinks of Quinn for a moment, trapped in her own body. Would that happen to him too? The aura. It's the aura. Santana is badass, and great at her magic. It's just the aura talking. He stands from his spot on the bed, and lowers himself onto the circle, vaguely aware the charcoal is going to get on his clothes. Once he's flat on the ground, he glances in her direction. "Lied down. Face up." He breathes out slowly. I trust her. I trust her. I trust her. I trust her.

Santana wonders if that is what real trust is. No questions? Is this how its suppose to be? She takes from her bag the last and only useful thing Mike Chang has ever done, giving him a silent talisman. She puts it on the door. It's supposed to create a silent room. No one would hear any scream. This is the third time she tried this. She lied to Elise, telling her it was because she needed a kidney to keep living. Ryder knew how cool was being a human and how crap was stop being it. *Third is the charm. It's all going perfectly. This is the closest I had been to this. She doesn't answer Matt saying he's nervous, she just goes to pick up her knife without him seeing her, hiding it behind her back on one hand. She sits on the floor next to him, on his side. "Show me your stomach." She says, remembering all the surgery videos she has memorized for this. "And look, this might look scary and suspicious, but...trust me on this, Matt. I know what I am doing."

Matt is sweating all over now. What is this ritual? Is it even real? He could trust Santana all he wanted, but what if she believes in something that is designed not to work? Truth be told, he's let her down more than she ever has. He owes her a fair chance--he wants to give her a fair chance. What if the purpose of the ritual is to build up a fuckton of tension, and then in the end it's nothing but a tickle? He lifts up his shirt, and tries to even his breaths. Scary and suspicious. He can prepare himself for scary and suspicious. "I trust you," he says, and places his hands at his sides. "You know what you're doing." She knows what she's doing. She knows what she's doing. She knows what she's doing.

Santana lifts his shirt more. And puts her hand on his stomach, calculating the cut. The knife still at her back. "Alright Matt, now something is going to happen, and you might think it's scary. But just stay still, and trust me." She says, letting him a time to breathe. A time for him to prepare. She takes the knife out. "Now. Don't move."

Matt breathes. Scary. Suspicious. Trust me. What could possibly be more scary than the anticipation? "Okay," he whispers, taking a second to close his eyes. When he opens his eyes, she has a knife. "Fuck," his voice wavers. This is it. What happens now? Does she pretend she's going to stab him, and then thank him for his trust? Does she stab him, like the O kid and her "dad" had warned him about? Does she take his blood? He squeezes his eyes shut, and clenches his fists. "ItrustyouItrustyou," he mutters, his breathing picking up speed. She wouldn't kill him. She wouldn't. She wouldn't.

Santana looks at him. Alright. He isn't running. This is good. She just as to stab the knife, take the kidney, and eat it. Ew. She thinks. She actually hopes this is like the binding of Isaac and some kind of God stop her last minute and make it work, because if not, it's going to be a mess. She holds the knife closer to Matt stomach, still not stabbing him. This is it. Now just fucking do it. Just fucking do it. This is what you always wanted. Nothing is stopping you. "I'm going to do it. It's going to be over soon. Thank you, my dearest friend." She smiles, and holds the knife higher.

Matt squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, and his thoughts are racing. Over soon? Is she going to kill him? No. No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't kill him. She won't. She means her pain, her suffering, her struggle.... right? Why does she want his stomach exposed? What if she tries to take some blood, and he dies right there, like an idiot, and he still doesn't know James's family? His family? No, no, she knows what she's doing. She said she did. She said so. But does she? Does she really know what she's doing? She's his age. She's in Naturalization. Ah, fuck. She doesn't know what she's doing. His eyes fly open, and he finds her with the fucking knife in her hand, and a smile in her face. "Wait," he blurts out. "I don't... I'm sorry. I can't do this."

"Oh, thank God." Santana blurts out, letting out a breath. Wait, what? What the fuck did I just said? No! This is a betrayal! I am dissapointed! I felt hurt! She looks at her reflection on the blade, still sitting next to Matt, not moving away. Or reacting anymore. "...I...didn't expected this. I thought... this is so... disapointing?" She still looks at the knife in her hand. "What the hell?"

Matt is bracing himself for a speech, or tears, or for Santana to not hear him and stab his ass anyway, so when he hears her sound relieved, he pushes himself onto his elbows. "Did you just say thank God?" he asks, shifting between looking at her face and the knife, the remnants of adrenaline making his heart pump in his ears. She seems confused. "Santana?" Matt asks gently as he sits up. "What do you mean?"

Santana leaves out the longest "Mmmmm..." while still looking at the knife. "That was weird. I'm sure I didn't say that. I'm actually very angry and hurt right now." She says, deadpan. She looks at the book of Hamlet. She still can see the illusions. "Hey Matt, can I ask you a question...about your dark secret magic?"

Matt decides it's probably not in his best interest to insist she did, while she still held a knife in her hand, which she had intended to use on him. He doesn't comment on it just yet. She looks like she's in shock, anyway. His heart sinks lightly when she asks about his magic. He kind of feels like he's walking into a trap, but it's not like she doesn't already know his secret. "What about it?"

Santana plays with the knife on her hands. "You said Puck found about it. On Brownstone." She stands up, and picks up her Hamlet book. "Who did you used it against?"

Matt looks down. He opens his mouth, and closes it again. The incident had been pushed so far behind in his mind that he rarely thinks about it, and when he does, he can shut it down just as quickly as the thought had emerged. He shut his eyes, and pushed himself away from Santana. "The selkies," he whispers. "I used my magic against the selkies."

Santana smiles. "Ah, just as I thought." She says, holds the knife blade down, and leaves it fall, nail down to the floor. "Is that? You wanted to help, and be a nice friend, and don't let poor little me suffer the same fate, wouldn't you?" She asks him. "You know a real human would had survive that, right? A real human would survive that because a real human wouldn't had get attacked in the first place, isn't it, Matt?" She comments, approaching him. "But in the end, you couldn't do it. You know I'll be way happier and safer that way, but you can't do it, right?"

Matt flinches back, and the tremors in his muscles from the adrenaline intensify. This, this is what he thought would happen, and now he doesn't feel ready at all. "You're right," he says, and he doesn't try to conceal the unsteadiness in his voice. "You're right. If they'd been human we would have been out of that room as soon as we realized Kurt wasn't there. I got Puck's gun against my head because he thought I was a monster, like he thought they were fucking monsters. You're right." Matt shuffles backwards slightly, and Aether, fuck, God, this is exactly like right after Brownstone, when he'd been afraid of her for the first time. "No, I can't fucking do it. I'm not going to bleed out on my floor because you think it's gonna solve your fucking mental health problems!"

Santana stares at him. "But you have it better, you know? You always look like a human." She laughs, bitterly. "Mental health problems? Is that what you think it is?" She stops laughing, and frows. "You liar." She grabs him from the neck of his shirt. "Did my health problems trapped me there, Matt? Is that? Is my mind creating all of those people trying to kill me? I can't believe it! It was my health problems oppresing me all this time!" She says, letting him go."It was a trust ritual, not a blood ritual, Matt." She lies as if she really believed it. "It wasn't going to happend. But let's go with your theory..." She walks around. "Do you think that's what's going to fucking fix everything for me? Boom, magic, all your problems vanish now! I want to change my entire being, and you are like...sure! No questions asked. Why ask what would that mean for me? I-is that going to fucking change my entire personality? Am I going to be reborn or whatever into a person? What the hell becoming human means?" She starts to ramble, angry.

Matt sighs forcefully, and gestures with one hand. "I fucking know that! I'm an ignorant fucking dick that took glamour for two whole shitfuck minutes and whined about it to you. I know, and I'm sorry about that shit. I know it's easier." He holds his breath as Santana grabs him, trying and failing to keep his expression neutral. "Don't fucking lecture me about oppression. Don't. You still think you're an animal and that's why you want to be human. You think I don't get it? Wanting to change your body so people will fucking just stop?" Stepping back, he laughs, empty. "You were fucking relieved when I said no. Fucking admit that. You said 'thank God', and you're not fooling me when you deny that shit." Matt crosses his arms over his chest, and rolls his eyes. The fuck is she talking about? "You said you'd been planning this shit for years! I thought you knew what you were talking about! I don't fucking know what becoming human means. You tell me. What did you think it meant?"

Santana is glad she put the fucking talisman because she is going to scream. "You don't know anything. Oh! Sure! It's the fucking same! Changing your body and getting a whole new one, because you are actually a fucking 34cm rat! They're fucking different species, Matt!" She pushes him. "And I was fucking disappointed when you said yes!" She closes her fists. "You know, it's fucking shit when the whole world hates you, and you hate you even more, but still I won't fucking mind if at least my friends wouldn't agree! Without being certain there's a chance they'll probably murder me if I was on my animal form.” She starts to tear up. "Yes, Santana, you should change!, You have potential! Why is never Why would you want to change, there is nothing wrong with you?" She get rids of some tears. "Exactly! You don't fucking know! And you didn't even care to ask!" She doesn't know want to answer that question. And she is tired. "Anything more to say? Because if not, I'm fucking leaving."

Matt can't say anything for a long time. Santana pushes him physically once, but it's like she keeps doing it, over and over, with every sentence that rings too true to him. It dawns upon him that he thought he understood Santana as someone who knew exactly what she wanted and needed, that her demons were similar to his, colored in a different shade. He blinks for a second in perplexed silence, until she says she's leaving. "Wait, I..." Matt swallows. "I fucking love you, alright? And that's not a... I would love you if you were different. I love you. I thought you... I thought you knew better than me. I don't know." It strikes him, not quite for the first time, that maybe he's been doing this friendship thing completely wrong. "I have to think about this. I don't know if I should be the guy that decides whether or not it's cool for you to want something I don't fucking understand. I thought I was..." What? Being a hero? Superior to anyone who wouldn't lie there waiting to be stabbed to prove he's a good person? "I don't know." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

Santana picks up her stuff, but leaves the knife. She didn't expect that. She stays, looking at the door, giving her back to Matt. Grabbing her bag. "Oh, love." She had a dozen complains about it. "If you think I knew better, would you stick at knowing worse?" Of course he doesn't have to decide. "I'm not asking you to chose, I was... I'm...I'm leaving." She said, removing the talisman, getting out and slamming the door when she gets out.

#para: all #para: trickstersantana #trickstersantana: all #para: leave me with a price to pay #para: 040 #trickstersantana

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