10586/Old Soldiers can learn new tricks such as... cooking!

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Old Soldiers can learn new tricks such as... cooking!
Date of Scene: 27 March 2022
Location: Angelo's Carriage House
Synopsis: Dinner. Coffee. Conversation. Baklava.
Cast of Characters: Achilles, Zatanna Zatara




Achilles has posed:
    So, the invite was sent. It's not a romantic date. It's not really a -date-. It is merely a chance to give Zatanna the chance to unwind with something entirely mundane. Dinner. Conversation. But there is no expectation of it being anything beyond that.

    In preparation, Angelo paid a decent sum of money to get some imported lamb-meat that he cooked on the grill with some traditional spices and such. (The player isn't as good a cook as the character is). Along with it will be a lemon-rice dish along with some simple green beans. The drinks on hand are actually an old school mead that he found and learned to enjoy when he was traveling and fighting with the Vikings.

    He's dressed casually for the early spring in a long sleeve teeshirt and bluejeans. Feet are covered with comfortable loafers that are almost slippers. In fact, he is right now bringing the meat in off the grill to start carving it on the kitchen counter.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Spring is in the air. Even in downtown New York. Zatanna wears an ensemble from one of her favorite Japanese designers, exceptionally not black - a pale green silk jacket over a long bell-shaped dress in spring colors. Coming here is a much-needed break from Gotham, away from demonic invasions and stage performances. But, more importantly, time with this unusual man who is on the way to becoming a friend. She suspects he doesn't make them casually after several thousand years of existence.

The air already has the enticing smell of well-marinated meat searing over a fire as she rings the doorbell. She stands, a boxed tray of baklava from Turkey in her hand, back turned to the door, watching New Yorkers peacefully pursuing their business. It never palls.

Achilles has posed:
    Odd that in New York, the man inside calls out, "It's not locked. Come on in!" since he has his hands full slicing the meat and plating it all. The steamed veggies are still on the stove as he lays thinly sliced lamb onto plates.

    Then he scoops the rice onto the plates and then the beans. It doesn't take more than a minute or two. On the table, the mead is already poured into goblets... old goblets. Ancient actually. The bottle rests on the dining room table.

    Once his guest has come inside, he calls out, "Have a drink and a seat. Dinner will be -right- out." And then he tilts his head, "Oh... I already approve of your choice of dessert." he says as his nostrils flare.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna is not exempt from worrying if she brought the right gift for the invitation. She responds with a broad smile as she unboxes the sweets redolent with honey and pistachios.

"Beautiful table, Angelo. The food smells wonderful. I brought my appetite," she calls through the open door then pours herself the drink. Holding it up to the light she admires its amber color before taking a sip.

Achilles has posed:
    "I hope you like the mead. That is one of my old bottles. It has been sealed away in storage since before the battle of Stamford Bridge. I thought this was a good chance to share it with someone who might appreciate it as much as I do."

    Angelo steps out of the kitchen with two plates, one in each hand. "I spent a century and a half traveling with the Vikings." he says as he places each plate on the table.

    And then to be traditional, he steps around and pulls Zatanna's chair out for her... because of course he does.... lifting his eyebrows as he does so... oh, and offering an amused grin.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Looking over her shoulder with a smile, Zee smoothes her dress under her and sits with straight-backed grace. She eschews any wide-eyed comments about the time period he evokes, sparing him comments he must have heard ten times over if he shared his real history with someone. Homo magi are long-lived as a rule but don't have a life-span approaching immortality.

"What were they like? Life on the move and on boats can't have been easy."

Achilles has posed:
    Nodding his head, Angelo moves to his own seat before pouring his own goblet of mead. "Violent. But also a very deeply spiritual people. You must remember, the Greeks also spent a -lot- of their time on the Aegean. But the Vikings were also quite innovative and they had a wanderlust that is second to none."

    "You might think of the Norse culture as paradoxical... very focused on family and the greater good for their own people. But if you were from a different village, you were a total outsider."

    Of course, as the host, he is not touching his own food until the guest has started.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
It is like drinking the tides of time, the sorcerer toasts her host. "To my new friend, Angelo and to the Vikings of yore. Thank you for the food." She poses her glass and begins to eat.

"Oh, I like these beans. Do you share recipes or are they closely guarded magic?" She asks, smiling around the first bite.

Achilles has posed:
    "The irony is... the -recipe- is simple. Steam them for just the right amount of time, and then melt lemon-butter over them. Sprinkle with salt and you are done." declares Angelo.

    He slices a bit of the thin cut meat and then scoops up some rice onto his fork before taking a bite. Once he swallows, he adds, "I have found that hints of lemon help in a lot of dishes. Mostly the starch and vegetable dishes. While lemon helps chicken, it does -not- do much for most red meats. Plus, I have found that red meat, when prepared right.. does not -require- any additional flavoring except for maybe a few spices and such during the cooking process. I mostly use thyme, dill and garlic for lamb."

    He grins, "I'd be happy to share any recipes you like. I have -quite- a collection of them." A pause, "I could say that about almost anything that I own." he adds with an ironic shake of his head. "So, you are well? No more cursed demon shadow thingamagoobers?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The magician smiles to herself. It is not often she finds herself in the presence of an unmarried adult man capable of caring for himself without any visible addictions or demons. She wonders if he knows how unusual that is. She sighs softly, long held tension unconsciously easing from her shoulders even as he asks after demons.

"Which collection? I still have the item that may have unleashed the first attack." Her eyebrows knit and her lips purse, "But, I seem to be on more than one hit-list, so to speak. The short answer is no."

She pops the piece of lamb on her fork into her mouth and chews, humming appreciation at the tender meat.

Achilles has posed:
    "Collections. Well.. weapons. Armor. Books. I have -sooo- many books in storage. I could fill a public library." He grins, "Wines of various sorts. Clothing. Art." He shrugs his shoulders, "Most of my wealth comes from the sales of items from said collection. A little here, a little there. Well that's where it began. Now investments do their own work for me."

    Shaking his head, he sighs, "I feel like a braggart here. But I am glad to hear that you have not been besieged of late." he adds. Another bite is taken, and he tilts his head to one side. It is also rare to just enjoy the company of a new friend without them assuming he has ulterior motives. I mean, don't get me wrong... Zee is quite lovely. He is male. He is just a disciplined, principled male.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The conversation takes an odd turn but not unpleasant. Zee reviews what she said and realizes that it had been vague. "Of course, you do. Think of how much people are capable of accumulating in a lifetime. I bet you have some beautiful things, too. And a warehouse someplace. Do you have any favorites? I'd gladly trade you a few demons for something nice," she teases.

Zatanna doesn't cry wolf easily nor does she like to brag. They seem to share that trait. "I rather wish they would attack and get it over with, the waiting wears on me."

She relents from her habitual secrecy enough to say, It's fallout from pushing Faust from re-ordering the universe, for one. The other still mystifies me though it may be someone or a force that you've met. I'll tell you more after dinner. Let's enjoy our food."

Achilles has posed:
    "My favorite is actually a portrait I commissioned before going off to war. I keep it in a sealed vault in a vacuum seal. It is so old that I worry if it was exposed to air much." A pause to take a bite and he adds, "It is a portrait of the first friend I ever made in my life." He doesn't really -say- who it is. Doesn't name him. But he doesn't enjoy speaking Patrocles's name aloud. "It is my way of keeping his memory alive really. Though I suppose Homer did much for that too."

    And his left brow raises as Zatanna speaks of Faust and other insane stuff. "That is fair." he adds before reaching for his goblet for another sip.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Poised with a forkful of beans, Zatanna nods thoughtfully. "The ones who fought that war so long ago still live for us because of Homer. After a pause, she adds, And, we carry the ones we lose as an indelible part of ourselves, don't we? Have you ever returned to Troy?"

Achilles has posed:
    "Many years later, yes." offers Angelo. "It was ruins at that time. I understand it ended up buried and was rediscovered in recent times. And as for Homer, the names live on. But... I sometimes look upon it to remind myself how he looked when alive and happy."

    He takes another bite and washes it down before speaking again, "Forgive me if this is personal, but... I have known a few magi, but never 'got to know' them, if you get my meaning. I would love to know more about how that works. Is it similar to a demigod? Blood carrying down power."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna smiles faintly to herself at the food and the company. The smile slipping into something more sober. "I'm trying to imagine what it must be like to know that someplace that you battled for, bled for, lost friends for, was buried and lost to everyone's memory but your own."

Bemused, she studies his face and nods empathetically when he mentions looking at his portrait. "You were close, weren't you?" The question poised with no hidden agenda.

His question makes her laugh under her breath and smilingly shake her head. "Hardly, though a few certainly put on airs of godhood. It is in our blood." She snorts, "I don't mean pretending to be demigods. For some, wielding magic is late onset - around puberty. In the best of circumstances we don't learn alone. We have guidance because of the pitfalls of having so much power at hand."

She considers a moment before going on, "It protects us if used properly and prolongs life. If I'm fortunate and don't get eaten by demons." She flashes him a smile at that. "Then I could live several centuries without having to make any bargains like some I know."

Achilles has posed:
    A sad smile crosses Angelo's face, "Close. Yes, you could call it that. He was my first friend. My first companion. And yes, Homer understood a lot about the relationship we shared. He was also my first love." He smirks and shrugs, "The social mores were very different back then."

    He takes a bite casually, and then nods slowly to her explanation of magic. "So, it is similar in that the power resides within the blood. Awakening as the demigod matures. My mother is a sea goddess... a Nereid. But my great Grandfather was also Zeus. However... the big issue to having raw power for me is that the Ambrosia and the dip into the River Styx pretty much turned -all- of my power inwards, into my true immortality."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"So no throwing thunderbolts for you?" She grins and pushes back her plate with an eye toward the baklava. "Do you drink coffee?" A thought occurs to her, "But you have bracers and a spear and sword, don't you? Are those magic." Tapping the side of her nose, she raises her eyebrows, "There is a distinct scent of magic about you."

Achilles has posed:
    "When Hector.... looted my armor..." says Angelo.. he was about to say more about that, but cut it off with a shake of his head, "Athena asked Hephaestus to forge me new gear. True to form... he took a request for armor and turned it into a crafting of everything I might ever need in war. So... while I am not godly, my -weapons- certainly are. They are the same quality and power level as the spear of Ares, for example."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"The story is well known about that incident if the stories are true." She takes a breath at the mention of Athena and closes her eyes, imagining the scene. Enthused at the story, she says with admiration, "Athena interceding for you, certainly sets you apart from the mob." A quirky glimpse of humor interposes itself and she says with a straight face, "I see, not a god, only a god's son wielding weapons fit for a god. Very banal."

Achilles has posed:
    "It was less about interceding for -me- so much as... knowing that were I able to kill Hector, that the Greek side of the war would be closer to winning. She was not helping me for me. She was helping Greece -through- me. If that makes any sense."

    He takes a final bite of his lamb and says, "I love coffee. I have a blend from Turkey in the kitchen myself. And... I would never want anyone to think me a god."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Point taken," she concedes pleasantly, "she only selected the man that could change the tide of the war for /Greece/, mind you."

She rises and picks up her plate, "Heaven forbid that anyone take you for a god, just someone who makes mana for a meal. Let me clear while you make coffee. Turkish is perfect for baklava."

Achilles has posed:
    Smirking, Angelo stands and nods, "Indeed. Athena was on the side of the Greeks. While Ares was on the side of the Trojans. The gods were really fighting amongst themselves. It was the most terrible war that history had known, right up until the invention of firearms." A pause as he closes his eyes... and it is -almost- audible, the sounds of the fighting, the smell of the blood, the sights of the dying... as they flash through his memories, and are then thrust aside.

    He merely nods, "Coffee. Right." he says before turning to head for the kitchen.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Neither of them revel in parading their wounds, reluctant to burden others with whatever weight they might carry. Zatanna believes she recognizes the signs. By all rights he should be a walking monument to PTSD and yet, he seems so well-balanced.

Zatanna follows with a pile of plates and cutlery and lays them on the counter next to the sink. After a quick look around, she finds the dish soap and sponge and starts in on the washing up with only a glance at him, asking permission.

"Real Turkish coffee?"," she asks as she fills the sink.

Achilles has posed:
    Oh, there is PTSD. But there is also a -lot- of time between wars to try to recover some sanity. Ironically, Angelo has seen a lot of therapists. He's not stupid enough to ignore mental health. Not anymore at least. But at the glance, he lifts his brows and gestures with a foot towards the built in dishwasher. "Your call." he adds with a grin as he opens a cupboard and pulls out a bag of beans, and a grinder. Yes, he has a rather barista level coffee / cappuccino / espresso machine on the counter over there. The man -likes- his coffee, and he has the money to have the good shit.

    And so he begins grinding the beans and asks, "Strong? Extra Strong? Double Espresso?" he asks with a smile.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The dishwasher wins. Zatanna does have a domestic staff and her nails are impeccably manicured. She loads it while he grinds the beans.

"Hmm, I like a hearty Turkish cup. Dare I?" She shakes her head, "A single, will do. Even magicians need to sleep."

Achilles has posed:
    Grinning, Angelo nods and pours grounds into a metal cup before securing it onto the machine. With some hissing and whirring, the coffee is brewed into a small cup. The rich scent of the coffee wafts through the room, and he asks, "Cream? Milk? Cinnamon? Vanilla?" as he gestures to a small shelf of various flavors to use in coffee.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
She shoots him an exaggerated round-eyed look of horror then grins, shaking her head. "Straight up is fine for me. I want the full baklava taste. It's from my favorite place in Istanbul."

Achilles has posed:
    Chuckling, Angelo shakes his head, "I thought that might be the case." and he sets the cup aside, before letting the machine drip a dose into his cup. That done, he picks them both up and walks over to stand beside her. He just holds it while she finishes up and silently waits.