[center][color=f7976a][b][i]Santo[/i][/b][/color]
[i]Wednesday, November 17th, 2015[/i]
00:00 AM
A home in the slums of Cusco[/center]

The moon was high above Cusco, the sound of insects and wild dogs having overtaken that of man in the hill-side slums of the city, the hours now steeping into wednesday. The home the boy hid away in was hardly complete, more of the outer-shell of a house with a basic floorplan, the dusty ground he sat on cold and without any heating to amend that. But it was home, only a single lantern to light it. 

Rested, and at the optimal hour, and having consumed maiuka not an hour prior - the effects running strong but not obscuring his vision of the earthly realm - there was unlikely to be a better time for Santo. Even now, the Tsentsak were quiet with the raw dominion Santo was exerting over the spirits, usually a roudy bunch demanding their immidiate use. But they knew what was to occur tonight, and Santo was not to be disturbed.

Before the ash-haired boy was the circle drawn in salt, a vial of misty water in one hand and a shrunken head in the other held by its once lustrous head of blonde hair - now frayed and course. It'd been the head which had told him how to do this, an accompanying bit of information along with much more. To take part in this supposed War, he required a soldier. To this end, this British man (or French? Possibly American? What was the difference really) had brought the water. Settling the vial at the centre of the circle, Santo stood, brushing the dust off his backside. Crimson eyes took stock of the room: Reagents present both here and at the other house, a selection of clothes of varying sizes both for himself and whatever great spirit he may produce. All that was left was for him to begin the ritual.

The time was right. All that was left was to begin. He took a breath.

"[color=f7976a][i]I, I, I, I, I, I, I...[/i][/color]"

The boy clasped one hand over the other, the head of the magus dangling by its hair between them. Santo's eyes shut as he repeated the same letter. He had a basic understanding of this ritual, the basis behind it. He needed no incantation to summon the great spirit, only what he already had before him. But this incantation was not for the sake of the war, no. It was for himself, to reaffirm his goals. 

[i][color=f7976a]"I am like Tsunki,"[/color][/i]

To remind him of what this whole war would be fought for. 

[i][color=f7976a]"When I take natem,"[/color][/i]

Not for honour. Not for glory.

[i][color=f7976a]"My body becomes cold."[/color][/i]

Not for any imagined wish, victory was a wish in and of its self.

[i][color=f7976a]"I, I, I, I, I..."[/color][/i]

It was for the land, and for his creator.

[i][color=f7976a]"I am sitting with Tsunki."[/color][/i]

It was for her.