Summary:Alex takes the time to inform Diana of feuding relatives over iced tea and melamakarono pastries. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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There's a specific store in the East Village, a small bakery, which makes arguably the best melamakarono in the city. Diana frequents it when the need strikes her and today is one such case. She exits the bakery with the small box balanced on one hand as she puts away her wallet into the small clutch strung over her shoulder. In a light blouse and high-waisted grey slacks, the Amazonian warrior appears fashionably as if she might go horse-back riding even if she wears sandals and not boots.
In her purse, suddenly, her phone goes off. It sounds off merrily in a hunting horn cadance and she lifts her brows at it even as she walks to one side off the sidewalk to answer it.
"Alexander, good morning. I was not expecting to hear from you, this is a pleasure," says the woman into the device, her dark-hazel eyes looking sideways into the middle distance as she listens.
On the other end of the line is a youth's voice, one who hasn't called her before since they traded numbers but she might recognize simply from the enthusiasm that it holds.
"Ms. Prince?" Alexander Aaron speaks into the receiver and she can hear the shift of the phone, wind rushing across it slightly as he likely trades ears. "It's Alexander Aaron." In case she had other Alexanders calling her at odd hours. "I thought it might be best I give you a call. You remember that thing… I mentioned with my uncle?"
Diana looks around for the nearest city bench and finds one tucked up against the outside of a small boutique about a dozen feet down the street. Cheery summer flowers bloom in the planter pots at each end of it and it's small enough that seating herself in the middle gives her the right to all of it — unless someone insists.
"I believe I remember you mentioning your uncle and 'things' involving him. Is that what this call is about?" the royal replies more quietly into the phone. Fingertips rise to brush hair back over her shoulder…or to rub at a temple in passing, either is likely.
"Yeeeah," Alex's voice draws out a bit and she can almost feel the hesiation in that word even across the phone.
"So about that,"
He pauses and she can likely almost imagine his face, when he's doing that thing of looking away from her and his features scrunch up as he tries to find the right words that won't end with her likely getting grumpy. Usually he doesn't come up with good ones and it ends with something like,
"So apparently my dad is all mad at him now and they're fighting. Like… a lot."
A cold jolt travels through Diana at this news. It makes her sit up ramrod-straight so abruptly, it garners a passerby's paused glance of concern. Diana smiles serenly and waves the person on, mouthing 'it is fine, thank you' and the matronly woman does continue on, though not without a sympathetic scrunch of features.
Turning on the bench to obliquely hide her lips by dint of her upraised hand holding the phone, she replies quietly, "I believe we should speak of this face to face, Alexander." Uh oh, still the full name - serious business, this. "I do not trust these devices to remain secure. Even magic can touch them." The corner locale of the local cafe/sandwich/antique shop is then listed, with its small garden eating terrace tucked between buildings. "Can you meet me here? We will discuss this further."
For a time there's no answer on the other line, and she can hear the wind whipping past the receiver. But then, after the space of several heartbeats, he'll answer to her. "Yes, ma'am." Even though before she told him not to call her ma'am.
"I'm about… twenty minutes away." He takes a deep breath but at least he doesn't let her hear the sigh. Or too much of it. There's another hesitation and then he adds, "Be right there."
And with that the phone is dead.
Diana gives the phone a remonstrating little glare, as if it might convey this to Alex in turn. Oy. Ma'am'd again. Still, twenty minutes is more than enough time for her to walk the two blocks down and order herself an iced tea to go with her box of desserts. As she walks, the warrior-woman scans her surroundings with a harder glint in her eye. The dissention between the two gods twists her stomach up enough to warrant a grimace. Alex will have to tell her more.
Seated with more than enough royal poise at her small two-person table, Diana will be found precisely where she said. Her glass of iced tea sweats where it sits, one-third sipped, and her dark-hazel eyes immediately pick Alex out when he arrives. A hand is lifted from her thigh in silent greeting.
Curiously enough when Alexander approaches… she might not have gained sight of him before he had wanted himself to be known. Just in case. It's clear tensions are higher for him, as his shoulders have a subtle clench to them, his eyes are clear and focused. And when he's there standing in the small entry way to the pavilion and the nice little cafe area, he lifts a hand in greeting.
A few steps and he carries himself over toward her table, a smile, then he unshoulders his backpack and sets it down. A wooden bokken sword is hooked in the loops of his pack, looking old and well worn and used.
"Ms. Prince," He says in way of greeting. "Hi."
"Hello, Alexander." Still the first name, all serious business. Diana smiles at him regardless, the expression passing gentle before it lessens, slipping into the formality equally known to the Amazonian diplomat. "Please, be comfortable. If you would like something to drink, let me know. It will be on my tab." With the confidence of her pronouncement, it's apparently nothing to argue about.
Her eyes travel over him, mark the sword and linger for an interested second, and then rise to his face once more. "I am sorry to hear of the discord," she says more softly by way of broaching the main conversational bent.
Resting a hand on the tabletop he lifts the fingers a little to wave off the offer, "No thank you, I'm good for now." There's a hesitation and she can almost just /see/ the 'ma'am' that's there but unspoken. He's trying.
Then he lifts his free hand and uncurls it toward her as he looks away. "I should have told you before making you wait all this time, I don't have much more information. Just…" He shakes his head a little and then meets her blue eyed gaze with his own. Though there's no searching back and forth between irises, a more steady gauging of her from afar.
"I know that my uncle sent… visitors to my dad. And my dad didn't react well? And so there are… things that are at odds. And I thought you should know."
But then he starts to ramble a little, "And I've been keeping an eye on the internet and a lil on the TV, but I haven't seen like anything obvious about them. But I figured I should let you know. Since, yeah."
Diana watches him just as evenly. Dishes clatter inside the kitchen of the sandwich shop, pigeons poke around the fringes of the eating area for crumbs, and a child babbles in a stroller walked by as Alex fills her in. Sighing, the Amazonian royal again brushes hair behind her shoulders and shakes her head slightly.
"I sincerely appreciate you speaking with me, Alex, and bringing me this information. I have not noticed anything obvious from these clashes, but it is only time before one of H — your uncle's minions becomes a thing of note." Not a good thing, by her disapproving frown at her tea. "I…do not blame your father for reacting as he did. There are messengers and then there are…goads," she decides.
Her eyes rise to meet his again. It is with an extremely diplomatic tone that she asks, "Do you wish me to speak to your father?
For a moment his brow furrows as he looks confused at Diana, then he says. "N-no?" Since apparently he might have no problem with his father's actions. Likely ever. Such is his loyalty. But then he smiles a little, "I mean, unless you want to."
He looks to the side again, that habit of his as he gathers his thoughts, then back to her. "I mean, if you'd like to. I think that would be good. I sort of always hope there's a chance to make peace between everyone. But I also sorta know down that route can lead greater conflict brought forth by the desire for peace."
A curious thing for someone of his age to say. Then he adds, "I just thought you would be grumpy at me if something happened and I was all, 'oh yeah, I knew that was going on.' and then you might try and pick a fight with me and I'd have to whup ya and then you'd be all sad."
His lip twists a little, perhaps the humor is meant to deflect or defuse the tension. Then again perhaps he's totally totally serious.
His attempt at humor is enough to make Diana's stoic mein break. The corners of her lips rise. "Have caution, Alexander, you may find yourself enjoying those words salted over a spit later," she replies ever so mildly as to his claim of besting her. "You are correct, however, in your supposition that I would have been frustrated with word given at time of action rather than beforehand. I thank you for sparing me this."
More of the iced tea disappears with the muffled clink-clink of ice against glass. "Do you know if your uncle intended to court your father of something?" Because that would be absolutely delightful, Ares and Hades aligned in some goal.
Shaking his head, Alexander rests his hands upon the tabletop and seems restless, as if ready to depart as soon as he's dismissed. But he answers her with words instead of just that gesture, "No, Ms. Prince. I've told you all that I can. They've clashed, and it's likely they will again. I'm thinking it might be kept between them."
His chair slides back slightly, but then he hesitates. His head tilts to the side before his blue eyes find hers again. "Though, I do think perhaps that my uncle was sincere on some level to wanting to talk to me? But with my father… things probably got mucked all up."
As they are wont to do.
Brows meet. "Wishing to speak with you in particular? Why do you think this, Alexander? About what?" A new seedling of worry sprouts in the Amazon's heart. Despite having seen many instances of advanced maturity, and understanding personally to an extent of the trials and tribulations of being part of such an…interesting family, in her eyes: he's young yet.
The idea of Hades getting claws into the lad… It worries Diana.
Perhaps another attempt at disarming as he says, "Well, I /am/ pretty great?" Though his voice lilts up there at the end as if knowing that he's making an attempt at humor. Then he takes a deep breath and answers her with some sincerity. "I don't know about what. But the first time I met him…"
He looks to the side, then lifts a hand to push long fingers through that wild mane of his hair, grabbing hold of the back of his head thoughtfully before looking back to her. "I sort of stood apart and watched them interact, right? And well… he was apart too. Like not by choice though? I could see him looking at them and sort of hovering around. I dunno, Ms. Prince. Just… a vibe? I'd see the same thing with kids on the playgroun."
Perhaps it's true, then again perhaps Alex is assigning feelings that would be his own if he were in such a position.
Humor entices another faint smile from Diana. Her attention shifts to a brief ruckus out on the sidewalk, but it's merely a split grocery bag and boxes falling with nothing breaking. A good samaritan stops to assist the older man. She can be seen to stop herself from rising, given everything is under control. The iced tea is set down on its condensation ring.
"One's gut feeling is not something to ignore," she advises, something Alex likely already knows well. It's with a sense of advanced apology that she adds, "I would not speak with your uncle if you can manage it, Alexander, or if you must…do so with your father present."
"I know, I know. It is a big world with big fish in the water, and you are but a tiny guppy that tastes good with lemon and a dash of pepper." Alexander crinkles his nose at her as if challenging that idea and her being there being the primary proponent of that sentiment gets his ire in that brief moment. Not that it is much ire in truth, just if he was younger she might well imagine he'd stick his tongue out. But he's much more mature than that.
Instead he shakes his head, "Swear you people seem to think I don't have enough sense to tie my shoes in the morning." Then his eyes widen as he fakes a /glare/ at her as he murmurs, "Is that it, or you have some more words of wisdom?"
Diana lifts her chin alongside an eyebrow at the young man. Of course, a mysterious little smile hovers around her lips and she lets it stay to soften her words. "I did not claim you could not defend yourself…and by the state of your shoes, you can apparently tie them without aid. Either that, or your handmaiden forgot to straighten the laces to equivalent lengths," she says in a milk-mild tease.
"My suggestion stems more from the note of transparency being important in peace-keeping. Words spoken in forked tongues behind backs are no guarantee of trust. Let your uncle speak to you as an equal beside your father if he wishes to speak to you at all. If he cannot do so, then are his words to be trusted? A wish to isolate is secretive in itself."
"That's true enough," Alexander offers in return, lightly drumming his fingertips upon the tabletop before he meets her gaze again. "The Clandestine does not breed Unity." As if from a fortune cookie, or his father. Either/or.
He takes a deep breath, "Was that all you wanted to talk about?" The young godling affects a 'tone' as he shakes his head sadly, admonishing Diana as he says, "We only ever speak when there's bad news. Never do I look at my phone and see Aunty?" He stops then looks to her, "Cousin? Aunty Cousin Diana calling with an interest in my well-being and just to ask how I'm doing."
He clucks his tongue, "Always with the portent and the ill omens and the seriousness."
An odd little emotion passes over Diana's face. It makes her smile take on a shade almost winsome. "Since when has our family ever dealt in anything but portent and the ill omens?" It is a rhetorical question by how she then gives the sky a considering squint. Perhaps, silently, she's asking for assistance in matters. Or maybe there was a bird, who knows.
"I do not know what I would be to you, Alexander." Her warmly-dark eyes rest upon him again. "What would you have me be to you? Your wise Aunty-Cousin? A friend? If the former, you do realize I will be asking you of your schoolwork and chiding you for staying out late with your friends," she reminds him, smirking the slightest.
"I think a friend would be better." Alex says as he straightens in his seat, his smile now given fully away to the purity of one who has enjoyed the giving of grief and the griever's response. He shakes his head a little as he reaches down for his backpack and /swooops/ it over his shoulder.
"Though, if we started to hang out, you realize all my friends will be loopy for you and their conversations will be entirely stilted. So maybe secret friends? Who give each other secret hard times? And secret grief? While each hoping the best for the other?"
Such a curious sentiment to express by one so young.
"I will abide by a friendship kept between us," Diana replies, intrigued by the attitude, especially in light of their agreement about truthfulness and transparency. "I would hate to be the cause of such stuttering and difficulties of basic speech faculty. Perhaps you can convince them that I am not as terrifying as I appear." She glances to the dessert box as if just remembering it.
"Here, Alexander, take at least a handful." Six of the melamakarono are wrapped within a dry napkin and offered towards him. "I bought myself two dozen with the intent of keeping them to myself, but it is a large enough volume to merit sharing yet. You are welcome to eat them yourself or share them as you please in turn."
"Oh I doubt it'd be terror," That they'd feel but he doesn't elaborate on it as he gains his feet. He leans forwards and looks at the desserts, lightly daring to touch one and then licks the fingertip as if just tasting the sugar. But then he shakes his head, "No, thank you, Diana." He offers, at least settling on her first name now.
"I need to go work out and lose some weight, not gonna just add a ton more on just cuz yer feelin' guilty for how mean you were to me earlier." His lip twists… but then impulsively he does rest a hand lightly on her shoulder, just for a second to give a small squeeze before he rushes off.
"Talk to you soon!" He waves over his shoulder as he heads to the exit, then on through and beyond.
The handful of pastries go back to their brethren. Diana wipes her hand with the outside of the napkin and smiles to herself. "Well, as the modern language puts it, your loss," she replies lightly. The brunette is quick to add, on his departure, "Be well, Alexander."
She watches him go, watches him disappear into the crowd once more to become just another pedestrian in a busy hive of a city, and then closes up the bakery box. "He seems a kind soul," she murmurs to herself before she finishes the rest of her iced tea. Bills are left tucked to pay, plus a tip, and then she too leaves the small eatery's porch to head to her own home and enjoy a melamakarono…or three.