Summary:Alex comes to Diana looking for clarity about accusations against her after a run-in with a minion of Hades. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Evening, just an hour after rush hour and enough for the sun to sink below the horizon, still casting an orange haze over the West river, adding a glint of color to the great sweeping skyscrapers of the city's skyline. The streets were not empty, far from it, but the traffic was much less than during the day. A myriad of taxis roll up and down the roadways, and smaller crowds of people continue to make their way along the sidewalks of Manhattan.
Alexander Aaron, the youngest Phobos in Olympian history, though that's not exactly a broad sample of cases, is sitting on a bus stop bench, backpack upon his shoulder and leaning forwards a bit. His fingers are interlaced and his eyes are flitting from person to person as they walk on by.
Until, that is, he espies the person he's seeking. "Ms. Prince!"
She's easy to pick out of the crowd, the tall brunette with the regal bearing. He slings his pack over his shoulder, adjusting his grip. And once he's close enough he says, "Do you have a moment?"
In a flowing blouse of royal blue and dark slacks, sandals and with a clutch at her shoulder, Diana pauses when she hears the summons from the immediate area around her. Taller than the average woman on the street, it's not difficult for her to spot Alex on his approach. He immediately gets a warm smile and the background noise of his presence, on the weird wavelength they share as Olympic offspring, crystallizes.
"Alex, good evening. I have a brief moment, yes, I am due for dinner with a friend. How can I help?" Only the mildest concern touches her brows; otherwise, the brunette's countenance is openly friendly.
She can tell there's a tension to him, a discomfort to the moment. as he tilts his head towards her. He bites his lower lip and then gestures with his free hand. "I just, need a second of your time. If you're not too busy." He glances towards one of those nice green lunch time picnic bench areas between two of the larger bank buildings in the city. To draw her attention to it he gestures in that direction and then heads on over.
The way he moves is a touch on edge. Easy movement, graceful, but not quite the same gait as before. And should she join him he'll turn to her to face her, leaning back against the stone and sand table.
"I'm not going to make any accusations. But I wanted to let you know what happened. And that it sort of makes things difficult. And I've talked to my father. So it's sort of out there."
That makes no sense of course. Yet he elaborates. "After we talked I was feeling pretty good about meeting you. But then a day later… one of Hades' minions tried to get me to come with it. Or rather tried to intimidate me into going with it."
He holds up a hand, "Nothing, like, too bad happened. But it's the timing of the thing, right? Not… not many people know me or where I am." Except for her, of course.
Unafraid of the young man, the woman attends him and his travels to the table out of the immediate flow of pedestrian traffic. Her brows have now knitted in overt concern, but her lips remain neutral, done in a pleasing color to match her skin tone. Otherwise, no make-up on her features. Her hair is braided back in a concession to keeping it from her face.
His news has Diana inhaling silently in surprise — oh dear. That he spoke with his father is little surprise, especially in light of their previous conversation. That he was the target of an attempted seduction by a decidedly unfriendly faction so soon afterwards…?
"I am glad to see you're unhurt. Hades is not known for kindness." Her voice is cool. "But what are you implying?" He'll apparently have to say it out loud to the Amazonian warrior.
"It's feasible he may have used another way, but…" Alexander looks down at his shoe and casually kicks at the dirt and a small weed that's sneaking up between a fracture in the concrete. "My father felt it might be possible that you had told someone. Or it had somehow gotten out. And, to be fair, I had to agree it was a possibility."
He then holds up his hands as if to hold off the displeasure and the righteous indignation that might well be coming. "My gut feeling says you didn't, Ms. Prince. And I really hope you didn't. Not for any grrr, revenge! Thing. But more for like, I'd have been really wrong about you, and I'd hate to think I was so stupid to… you know. Misjudge someone I felt so positively about."
He looks back down at his shoe and then kicks at the weed again. He even adds two more words that serve entirely no purpose. "You know."
Falling sunlight reflects off the metal accents of her clutch as Diana shifts in place. Her hand falls to her side, perhaps unconsciously hunting for a sword or weapon which isn't present at her belt.
"I have no connections or interest in dealing with Hades or his ilk. His kind are anathema to me and to my people," she informs him calmly. "If I had an issue with you, I would confront you directly about it. I have no qualms with you, none whatsoever. You have done nothing to rouse any ire in me. Was there any proof presented of my influence in this minion's actions?"
His bright blue eyes meet hers and perhaps it'll offend her all the more, perhaps drive her to indeed wish she had the blade in hand. For his eyes search hers, plumb the depths of what he might see behind them. There's no power to it. No magic. It's just the gaze of a young man looking to the heart of a beautiful woman that he thinks well of.
He tilts his head slightly to the side, again chewing on his lower lip. But then he tells her levelly, "No, ma'am." Falling to that honorific as he knows that now… he has perhaps given offense.
"It was just the coincidence of the matter." His gaze drifts over her again, not as if looking upon her form as the beauteous thing it is, but perhaps… as a possible opponent. For he knows what some might do if their honor is impugned. "I shall make myself available should you wish satisfaction." Direct, not flinching nor hesitating. His voice is strong when he states that. But there's that hint of reluctance in his eyes.
Her hand drifted at her waist then lands on her hip. Diana lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. "No, young Alexander, you have done no wrong. If anything, you have forewarned me of distant stormclouds. Whether or not they take form may be beyond our control both. I did not intend to make you think of sparring for honor's sake. There is no wounded honor to avenge here. Words are simply words. If you had raised a weapon against my person, that would be another matter entirely."
Her eyes rise to the sky briefly as if supplicating to someone beyond for patience yet in the face of machinations against peace in her life. They return to Alex and are softer once more, lacking the momentary keen glint of a sword's edge. "I do not wish you any harm — none at all. You are strong, and I can tell you do not wish to be a victim of your circumstance. If you struggle with your heart, then you are growing. This is a good thing."
"Ehn." Alexander says as he smiles a little and offers a small shrug, the tension slipping away as she allows it to and the contest is dismissed. "I just try not to embarrass my dad, really." The way he says that, as if that was a fate that would truly be dire.
"Ok, sorry for distracting you. You should get back to your dinner date." He starts to step backwards and then looks over his shoulder before he turns back towards her. "I have a Physics paper to write, and I'm really not feeling it. So I should get to work."
That said he stuffs his hands back into his pockets then nods towards her, "Take care, Ms. Prince."
"You too, Alex. I hope your paper turns out well, even if you are not feeling it." She smiles in amusement at the modern turn of phrase even as she too turns to walk away. "Remember you are your own man, and you are deserving of love even if you fall short of another's expectations."
This last tidbit of wisdom she shares almost over her shoulder and then, quietly, the Amazonian warrior blends into the pedestrian crowd of New York once more, assuming her guise of the mundane.