Summary:Alex and Diana catch up about the difficulties of life, which include paltry things such as geas-spells and TWITTERPATION, OMG. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The Metropolitan Museum of Art during the week day is fairly busy in the Summer time even though for the youth known as Alexander Aaron… the first days of the Fall session have started. But it's on this Thursday after class that he had decided to ditch out of his later lab, orientation wasn't exactly something he felt he needed after all since it was just the meet and greet.
There were other more important matters to attend to.
Getting advice on certain things being one. Even though his father had advocated one route… there had been issues about possibly taking it that could cause trouble down the line. So who did he refer to?
"If you'll follow me, ladies and gentlemen, we'll begin the tour through the Renaissance period, please stay close in line."
Alexander stepped past the other tour guide, not the one he was seeking. He had his hands stuffed deep into the baggy jeans he wears, white sneakers squeeaking a bit as he walks. His t-shirt today has a lovely sunset image of a large black tower and smouldering lava mountain and a caption that proclaims, 'VISIT SCENIC BARAD-DUR, MORDOR!'
Luckily nobody recognized him from the Friends of the Met dinner, but that might be a bit much to expect those particular socialites to actually go to the museum.
Emerging from a side hall with an iced coffee in-hand and clipboard in another is Diana. She's in a light-weight moss-green blouse and black slacks, her shoes of low-heel and functional rather than fashionable. She's not leading any tours today; rather, her efforts are towards being certain the Grecian wing is still running smoothly. This includes checking the status of all of the displays, reporting any security issues or (heaven forbid) vandalism, and considering if there's room for new items.
A small tingling makes itself known and the Amazonian warrior glances up from her inventory list, her dark-hazel eyes scanning the crowd. Gee, it's a familiar tingle — rather, familial. There: indeed, it's Alex.
Diana begins to walk towards him, a small and bemused smile on her face. "Alexander, hello. How are you today?" asks she once in hearing range.
"Diana," the youth's smile comes to his features, easily summoned and reaching his eyes though a hint more subdued than that casual effervescent way of the past. He adjusts his backpack on his shoulder and looks around the room, even as visitors to the museum wander on by around them, like some small isle in the flow of humanity.
His blue eyes slip to the side as if looking for others around them, but sees naught that would cause concern so he looks back to her and asks, "Is there somewhere we could speak for a bit?" He slips his hands back into his pockets and shifts his weight to the side on one foot.
"I was… hoping to get some advice. Sort of." His eyebrows lift at those last two words as if he himself were not entirely sure the reason for the visit. Or more perhaps simply the complexity of the thing.
Social mirroring holds true. Diana's own eyebrows lift in turn. Marking the uncertainty in his demeanor and how he's gone about scanning the museum's interior, she too glances about. Nothing has pinged to her enhanced senses; it all remains a white background noise unless she focuses on something in particular.
The clipboard gets tucked beneath her arm, her slim yet strong fingers still wrapped around it. "Yes, Alexander, of course. If I remember correctly, the modern textiles wing is very quiet this time of day. Mornings are when it receives the most visitors — knitting clubs," she lets on with a small smile appearing again. "Here, come, we'll speak there." With composed steps, at a nonchalant pace, she leads the way farther into the museum and into the sector dedicated for Americana. The textiles wing is indeed…basically deserted. Anyone lingering in it moves slowly and can't hear well to start with. Diana finds a bench tucked to a side wall, behind which is a turn of the century quilt behind glass. Sitting, she pats the ample space beside her, granted to make sure the young man doesn't feel crowded.
"What is the matter of this advice needed?" Her eyes linger on his face patiently.
Taking a seat and setting his backpack down between his feet, Alexander leans forwards and rests his forearms on his thighs, fingers interlacing thoughtfully as his eyes distance. Then he turns a smidge to look towards her, eyes flitting between her own irises as if seeking something in her own gaze.
"Several things?" He tilts his head a little askew, almost canine-like in the curiousity. He then says, "I spoke to a sorceress and she commented that I had magic upon me. Which. I was like, duh." Ok no he didn't say 'duh'.
"But, it was something else than what I thought." With his magical nature and being soul-bonded to GrassCutter. "And she said that there were old magics on my soul. Spells bound to me from years ago. Likely when I was in the power of the Shinto."
He looks back and chews on the inside of his cheek somewhat. "And things sometimes had felt… weird? You know. So I find they're tied to things about me. Like my memories, and emotions, and stuff."
He uncurls a hand, "So I talked to my dad about it. And he said he had suspected as much, but grandfather apparently had altered them as to dispel them would have done more harm, right? But they're coming undone apparently as I've felt changes."
He straightens up, just laying it all out there, spreading his hands wide as if he had no idea what really was going on. "But dad suggested I talk to a mage of some renown. But you ever just… get a really bad vibe about something and don't know why?" He gives a small grunt of impatience. "In any case, so yah that's me right now."
Ice cubes very quietly bump against the plastic interior of her cup as Diana enjoys her drink. The caffeine won't do overmuch for her, but the pleasant minor buzz is appreciated nonetheless. She listens, her fine brows quirking, and nods here and there to encourage Alex to continue his tale. When he finishes, she frowns down at her clipboard, now set upon her lap.
"Let me see that I have heard you correctly. You have spells on you that are very old and they may be affecting the way you perceive your reality — interact with it as well? And your father suggested you speak with someone well-known in the world of magic, but you are uncertain because…your heart tells you this is unwise? Or your head?" She looks into his face again solemnly.
"Yes, but…" Alexander sits up a little straighter and says, "Can I trust either?" He grins a little but then his brow knits, as if he hit the nail on the head rather too precisely and leaves himself no way out. For that might be at least one of his concerns.
"But, it's… how to explain?" He chews on his lower lip as he looks away and says, "One of the spells was… it was used by Amatsu Mikaboshi to make me hate my father. And it was so strong that it couldn't be entirely lifted. Even Zeus felt that to dispel it would harm me or kill me. I was to take any act of love or positive emotion from my father and it was to in turn make me hate him all the more."
He uncurls a hand to the side, "So it couldn't be removed, but what he did was to lessen it and turn it upon others? So like… apparently that's why I just…" His brow knits, "Didn't care about some things?"
"I…suppose this is the lesser of two evils, to have the relationship with your father regained — though, I am still very sorry to hear of its state of being, this spell. Friends are as important as family, sometimes moreso even. They are not related and tend to bring unconsidered viewpoints along with them." Diana glances over as new attendees enter the textiles wing, but by their further review of the museum map, they made a wrong turn. The couple leaves back the way they came.
"While your father recommended finding an experienced practitioner to remove it, I would not take Zeus's opinion lightly. He knows of magic, even if his is far more bluster than finesse." Fingers rise to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "You still appear to be uncertain as to whether or not your intuition stems from your heart or your head. Do you believe it to be influenced by these spells?"
"Could be," Then he takes a deep breath and he murmurs, "There might have been some trick to it." He straightens up and grimaces, then looks at her, then looks away… then looks at her again.
"So, ok, you're ok for me to talk to about like, girls, right? And relationships?" He spreads his hands wide as if trying to make sure the boundaries are clear there and suitably in bounds. "Because so like a few things happened. And it feels like things have changed?"
That said he leans back in the bench and thumps his shoulders against the seat. "But that's the thing when you feel like you can't entirely trust your perception. I suppose. Part of me just wants to get the whole thing removed even if it's dangerous just so I know what is me and what is not me."
Diana nods, sober and understanding by the set of her lips and brows. "I have heard of a man in this city who claims to have monumental magical abilities. He was once a doctor of medicine, but now claims to be a doctor of the magical arts. I believe he goes by Doctor Strange. Whether or not that is his true name or a public name, I do not know. His manor is in Greenwich Village. Perhaps this is a place to visit, to speak with him and see what he has to say. I have heard that while he is enigmatic and monk-like, he is also fair and intrigued by magical problems."
A little sigh and then a smile threatens her lips. "And yes, Alexander, I am able to speak with you about relationships. Have you recently embarked upon one? This is a thing of bravery sometimes."
"That's who my father suggested," Alexander turns to face her fully, then shakes his head. "But when he did, I got this feeling of bad portent. I guess." But if she advocates for him perhaps that is the best idea overall so he looks away towards the doorway. As if he should rush out right now.
But then he looks back to her and says in answer to her question. "Maybe?" His smile is there, a little wry.
"I mean… I've dated before. But I think I never really cared? I never felt invested. So for a long time it was strange to me how people had… such sadness sometimes about no longer dating someone." He shrugs a little, "I mean, having se… I mean." Alex ahems and his features colour somewhat. "Just I never felt really. Strongly. About someone."
He cants his head the other way, "And then I met someone who just…" He shakes his head for a moment, "Who did /not/ like me. Like hugely." He looks to her and his eyes widen as if such a thing was impossible. "I know, /me/!"
Alexander pushes a hand through his hair and grimaces, "But after that, things felt different. Like I cared a little more?"
The averted track of conversation, with its unfinished word, makes Diana's smile deepen with an aspect of feminine mystery. She does arch an eyebrow, but also doesn't comment, unwilling to make Alex lose his train of thought. She sets aside her half-finished drink and folds her hands atop the clipboard.
"Is this perhaps an inversion of the spell you just described? A weakness in its workings? And if you cannot risk the Doctor attempting to remove your spells, can you still speak with him in light of finding an alternative? Another practitioner?" She asks her questions in hopes of helping Alex think.
"Well," Alexander clearly has given this some thought as he relates, "There was the sorceress who told me of the spells. And… she and I have a sort of kinship. Her past was much like mine. And I like her, she seems nice." He uncurls his hand, "Though she is a Queen of Demons, I believe. So that might be a little off-putting. I figure if I went to her she might want to strike a bargain and I'm… not too into that."
Then he turns back towards her and says, "And besids, maybe… things will resolve okay on their own?"
It's then that he turns on the seat, sneakers squeaking a little as he shits to the side, "But then. Alright you heard about the Friends of the Met party thing? Well I was there."
Diana winces the slightest. "Yes, I find bargains worrisome things, especially where demons are involved. I would allow yourself another week yet to see if your gut feelings tell you something different, but then, beyond this? Act." A firm nod. His change of conversational tact makes her then grin widely. It's like light glinting from the ocean.
"I was not going to bring this up, but given you have…yes. It was wise of you to remove your shoes." It's as if she lingers on the cusp of laughing, but doesn't, maybe to salvage Alex's pride.
The youth's lips twist into a slight smirk that flirts with a smile as his eyes widen, "Ohmigod, stalker." He says declaratively and then shakes his head as if admonishing her. But he rolls his eyes a little before continuing the story. "Well then, you know what happened."
He turns enough to rest a sneaker on the bench-seat between them, his leg drawn up as he wraps his arms around it, "And the person I met. I learned later she's called Orphan." Which is a strange name, of course.
"But after I met her everything seemed… sort of different. But then she rushed off and I thought I'd never see her again."
He taks a deep breath and them looks a little wistful, "But then _she_ found /me/." His bright blue eyes distance and he looks back towards her, "And I find myself wanting… I worry about what she thinks of me." Which is pretty rare for him. "And I want to be better… for her?"
His attention wanders again.
"I do know what happened, yes." The woman laughs now, the sound soft and warm. "Given I have a senior staff position, I was shown the footage. You carry yourself well." She then frowns in curiosity to hear of this Orphan individual. The name is unfamiliar to her, as was the person shown on the security camera's capturing of the fiasco. It's when he wonders about his own sentiments that she smiles again with a wink of winsome to the expression.
"It does sound as if you are infatuated with this Orphan. This is not a bad thing, especially if you find yourself wishing to improve yourself for her sake. How do you think you can go about doing this? Do you wish to court her?"
The side of his mouth widens a bit as if he had tasted something bad, even going so far to make an exasperated noise that sounds like, 'ayuauck' when she mentions her being shown the footage. But he takes a deep breath and grumbles. Then leans forwards and rests his chin upon his knee, blue eyes looking past her.
"She is amazing." What he had said when he met her. "As good as I am, or better in some ways. Gifted. But she doesn't speak. And it is different to interact with a person when you care what they think." As if he had never cared what anyone else thought. Except for a few. Maybe Diana was in that list. Maybe.
A tilt of his head to the side, "I don't know for sure if she thinks of me like that? I think she likes me… but courtship?"
He looks away again, wistful and then says quietly, 'I would not wish any companion in the world but her.'
But after he murmurs that small quote from the Tempest his eyes widen and he looks at Diana and says /loudly/ in the middle of a museum. "Oh my FUCKING god!" And then immediately clamps his hands over his mouth, looking utterly sheepish as suddenly all his features turn crimson.
Diana recognizes the quote, only in time to be subjected to the young man's coming realization of just how deep he's waded into the pool of the oldest game known to mankind. She puts a hand over her own mouth after giving him an owlish look of surprise, mostly to stifle the worst of her laughter.
"Yes, Alexander, it appears you have reached the point where another's opinion matters. It is amazing, is it not? To find that another person occupies so much of your mind?" Her dark-hazel eyes go briefly distant over his shoulder before she sits up a little more and squares her own. "This is your first relationship, yes? You will learn so much." There's a smidgeon of pride there in the Amazon's bearing yet.
"Hey," Alexander points at her, though still horribly flushed and looking still very embarrassed at his outburst. He smiles a little nervously, then shakes his head, "I've dated before." He tells her matter-of-factly. He just didn't really connect. Perhaps.
But he takes a deep breath and looks around the room, then with a glimpse back to the realization as to how young he really is… he sort of snickers a little at the naughtiness of shouting in a museum. He shakes his head, sighs, looks back at her.
"But… first time I've… felt like I should pursue someone."
Ah there it is. The youth who is ever the chased finding the tables turned.
"Then pursue her, Alexander, until you learn whether or not her feelings for you are returned. If not, then it was a thing of delight even if brief, like the flowers of spring and the colors of autumn. If so, then your efforts will be rewarded." Gracefully, Diana lifts a leg to cross them both, her foot gently swinging to some rhythm only she knows.
"But your language will have be more gentlemanly unless you find her to possess the same inclination to accent her thoughts with certain vernacular," she adds in light tease. At least another docent didn't stick their head in about the random cursing from the wing!
"You're right, Diana." Alexander shifts his other leg up so he can grab it and looks positively small for a moment as he looks away. Then back as he takes a deep breath. "We don't… talk much. She seems to know what I'm thinking sometimes."
And perhaps that keeps him from putting his foot in his mouth.
"It's… weird. I talk normally with most people. I try to be respectful of my elders. My father… I have to speak to him in a particular way. And her, it's different as well."
He shakes his head, perhaps coming to grips with the human condition, or rather failing to. "But you're right, I should also make peace with the possibility that she might not see the same thing in myself."
A subtle tilt of her head is followed by a small sigh. "It may come to be that she does not return your affections, yes, but… I have found it to be worth the risk and worth the bruising of the heart rather than to be subjected to the pain of pining and never knowing. An unresolved wonderment is sometimes like a wound that is slow to heal, if it ever heals at all."
Ice rattles in her cup as Diana retrieves her drink. "You will have to keep me updated in your endeavors, if you feel so inclined. It is fun to observe the going-ons of the young at heart." She smiles before sipping.
"In any case!" Alexander says, his lip twisting into a smile as he looks at her and rather poorly changes the topic, but in an endearing way. He furrows his brow and asks, "What were we talking about?"
Then his eyebrows lift, "Oh right. Strange. I suppose I should go talk to him, huh?"
The Amazonian warrior nods, still wearing her amused expression very clearly for the young man to see. "Yes, at least speak to him. Your body is your own, as is the magic attached to it — as in, you are not required to give him any consent to remove it from your person, even if he recommends it. Still, he would not have his position of power if he were unwise. I would think he has at least an idea of where to go next."
A glance down at the watch on her wrist has Diana pursing her lips. "Forgive me, Alexander, but I must quickly go over inventory. It was a pleasure speaking to you, and fear not: I have earned much forebearance in these tasks. No one will be reprimanding me for this time I have spent." She rises to her feet and once more tucks her clipboard away. "Good luck, Alexander," comes the wish, well-meaning and true.