12707/The Lion Fish in Winter

The Lion Fish in Winter
Date of Scene:	07 September 2022
Location:	Throne Room
Synopsis:	Namor and Arthur have words. Arthur is insufferable.
Cast of Characters:	Namor, Arthur Curry

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Namor has posed:
It had been some time since Namor had spoken to Arthur. Mostly he was dealing with Atlantis, taking care of her and making sure that the Surface World respected their rights and territorial borders. Which was surprisingly more difficult than it should be. It was apparently a challenge for them to realize the oceans were like entering another country. Despite Namor's generosity of allowing free travel in a large majority of those waters, saving the large swath over the City-States of Atlantis as the only ones which required prior permission before travel. Yet, asking for that travel permission was like asking for their first born or something. Most countries didn't want to respect it, thinking that Atlantis wouldn't be able to monitor all of that territory.

They would be wrong, of course.

Yet, Namor still was maintaining the peace with them. But today was another point of business. With the upstart with the claim to the Throne. They had a wary agreement but Namor knew there were supporters of Arthur Curry as the rightful heir. No matter how much Namor had done for Atlantis. Though the majority still supported Namor, the resistance was growing.

Namor was currently in the throne room, sitting in a slouched position as he considered while awaiting his guest.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Normally visitors would arrive and be brought in with some hesitance. There was always some measure of deference to the office, the room, the man. Usually any presenting a petition or seeking an audience would be shown forth with suitable pomp as guards would allow their entry, flowing in with a slow drift through the ocean's waters. Their spears would gesture for them to advance when it was time and then it was upon them to await for the King's address before they would speak.
    All steady and calm and factored in with precise etiquette brought forth through thousands of years.
    Then there was Arthur.
    The doors had opened and through them he moved as if the approach into the throne room was any other room. The guards trailed after, spears held as they both extended hands to halt his approach to the throne but Arthur stopped and floated in the center of that room, above even the throne as he did not drop or lower to rest with his feet on the floor. Instead he seemed like some classical depiction of the angelic with his form held as if by an unearthly power above the earth, with his long hair wavy in the water's current, almost an ancient image of a wrothful Zeus.
    Then the words spoken. Just three simple ones. "What is it?"

Namor has posed:
That earned a lifting of a single eyebrow. Namor had grown used to such things from the upstart. He had a big mouth and a bigger attitude. When Namor found someone else contentious, that was saying something.

He wasn't known for his patience really. Simply his unwavering love of Atlantis and her people. When he had taken the throne once it was left with no one to rule, he had focused all his being on making Atlantis better. Yet here was this long-haired hobo who, though he had Atlantean blood, had been raised on the surface and that seemed to be where his focus lay.

"It is customary to acknowledge the king," he stated simply as he remained where he was sitting, eyeing the man floating before him with distaste. Thankfully court was not in session so there were no witnesses to Arthur's lack of respect. "But I should expect less from you. I remembered our last talk and wanted to check in on your request for the builders. Are they still needed or have you opted to find a place in the suburbs with a white picket fence instead, perchance?"

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Mmm," Is what Arthur responds with at first. Then, as if to add to that single sound he folds his arms over his chest and quirks an eyebrow. Sidelong he glances toward the guards with that same so telling eyebrow... then back to Namor.
    Perhaps it takes a moment for the message to get through. Perhaps it's crystal clear. But eventually should Namor relent he will wait until those guards depart, though assuredly they may be wary in doing so.
    It is only then that Arthur raises his voice again, "I used to be crashing at this one place for a time. But that changed. Now mainly the lighthouse. What about it?"
    The tone of the man's words are sharp, quick, severe. But not necessarily disrespectful until one puts the trappings of office and court upon them. He speaks to Namor as easily as if the man was just another fellow on the street. Which well, might indeed be annoying. Or infuriating.
    "Something come up? Feeling magnanimous?"

Namor has posed:
It is a few long seconds then Namor gives a nod. Only then do the guards move to depart though they look none too happy about it. After all, they are supposed to be protecting the King yet here he is allowing Arthur to simply barge in in defiance of all the rules!

Yet, Arthur likely didn't see it that way. So few ever did realize just how extremely tolerant Namor was. How much he put up with that he shouldn't have to as a monarch. Yet, he was always considered to be the rude and violent one. It truly was a crazy world.

"Perhaps the latter," he finally states as he stands from the throne. He considers inviting Arthur to move to another less formal area. To have something to eat while they talked. But the one they called Aquaman--oh the things Namor could say to that--would likely decline just to be obstinant. So Namor didn't bother wasting the words.

"And the former is that the Starport is completed. Thus, our builders are between projects. If you were still needing your home. I had hoped you would be satisfied with your Lighthouse, admittedly." Which likely would make Arthur want it more, come to think of it.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The slightest twitch of the half-breed's lip might have been seen, though it was barely there. Just a hint of a smirk or perhaps the beginning of a sour expression yet he doesn't answer or say anything after that indication that the Sub-Mariner might be being so magnanimous.
    As Namor stood, Arthur floated down and forward to more be upon an even level though a good six feet distant. News of the Starport's completion causes him to give a small nod.
    "That's good news," As if he hadn't already known it. Then again with his lifestyle... perhaps he didn't. Then that statement about his still needing a home had Arthur nodding a little, though thoughtfully.
    "Mmm," Again that placeholder of sound, then he lifts his hand as if to hold off the offer. That technically hadn't been made yet. "I find I'm alright, for now. Things might change."

Namor has posed:
It was appreciated that Arthur came down to his level. For if he had not, then Namor would've had to move upwards. Then Arthur might. Then they both would bump their heads on the ceiling while glaring daggers at each other while trying to pretend they didn't look like children trying to one-up each other.

Though Namor would never admit he would act in such a way. Yet, in truth, he would. His ego was large. But as he had been told long ago, it wasn't bragging if one could back it up. Namor had hundreds of times over. So it was simply statements of truths, in his mind.

"I had suspected as much," Namor said with a twisting of the lips into a dark frown. "Although next time," and here he paused for a long moment, looking directly into the strange eyes of the man opposite him. They were so very different in appearance yet both had equal claim to the throne. Arthur with his long lighter-colored hair and strange eyes. Namor darker with the short black hair though his eyes were a blue/grey.

"If you wish to have me support a Starport, come to me with a well thought out proposal instead of scheming. Conspirator is a bad look. Especially for an Atlantean."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    Arms still folded it might in some ways to be difficult to tell who felt they were in audience with whom. That long hair continued to flow around Arthur's head like the many tendrils of the mythical medusa and those golden eyes did seem other-worldly. What cruel fate would have such a creature be the supposed rightful holder of the throne? One who seemed to hold no interest in serving as monarch, who seemed to be purely looking for whatever self-satisfaction came before him. So perhaps there was an attempt or two at heroics now and again they paled in comparison to the many... many many times he pursued his own pleasure.
    Such a cad.
    Yet he had done what every monarch of Atlantis had failed in the past. Had fulfilled that rite confronting the ancient leviathan, gaining the trident of his ancestors. Hardly a suitable form of governance really when you think about it. Distribution of weaponry.
    Lifting his chin slightly, Arthur answered after a few moments in that steady calm. "No idea what you're playing at, eyebrows."

Namor has posed:
There was a heavy sigh from Namor at that one. Which is saying something when one was underwater and didn't have to draw in air. Thus he was doing it on purpose for full effect. "Now you are just being insulting," Namor muttered as he shook his head. He didn't add the tsk tsk sound but it was right there in his motions and tone of voice. He was so very disappointed in Arthur.

The other many should surely shrivel up at such from his King. Or not. This was Arthur, after all. Not someone that made sense.

"I had suspected your game but then I had the information verified by an outside source." He did not name that source. Though 'snitches get stitches' wasn't a thing in Atlantis, it was simply impolite to name the person who solidifed his suspicions.

"Do you think I would not help simply to be a thorn in their side?" He quickly raised a hand into the air, the universal Stop signal. "Don't answer that. It was rhetorical."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Well, yes." Arthur answers that first statement, as if that should be apparent. There had never been positivity between the two men, even in the most dire of situations. And now the 'Aquaman' had no qualms about displaying it considering there were no witnesses.
    "Whomever your source might be..." Arthur says as he addresses it, arms still folded, that body language presented of unassailable disagreement. "They're probably reading into that shit."
    A brief glance is given toward the throne, then he looks back to Namor and says with the calm and tolerance one would have when trying to explain something to an irate customer yelling at someone in an ice cream shop about not getting enough sprinkles. "I wanted my house, I planned to get my house. I did tell whatserface about it, maybe she saw an angle and played it. Annoyed the piss out of me."
    A small shrug is given, "But I've moved on, to something else more shiny."

Namor has posed:
"Ever is your way."

Namor didn't bother with a fake smile. For that statement was the truest yet stated in this room. Arthur was all about self-satisfaction and nothing about duty. Despite the blood of his mother in his veins, a ruler who was beloved by most of the people and had brought a Golden Age to Atlantis. Though admittedly, Namor had managed to return it to that glory once again, even expanding them to join the other countries on the world map. Instead of hiding in the shadows.

But Arthur had managed to find the trident. And as such, had claim to the throne. Thankfully, he hadn't wanted it. Because the world of cell phones and celebrities was far more interesting to the man raised on the Surface. The man who thought he was better than the Atlanteans he had the right to rule.

It was best for all he remain on the surface, playing at being a hero while drinking fishing villages out of their alcohol stock.

"Since you have no need for the builders, I will assign find something to fill their time. That was all I needed from you." And just like that, he was basically dismissing the other man.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Sure thing, Pablo." Arthur says as he starts to float backwards, finally unfolding his arms and spreading them wide, almost looking biblical in that casual way he floats back. All he needs is the cross.
    Yet even the messiah never was so flippant. Except maybe in the desert. Or perhaps amongst the money-changers. Even as he added, "Catch you on the flip-flop."
    Knowing full well how Namor might not take to colloquialisms from the surface. That said he turns and then slices through the water toward the entrance, past those two guards beyond the archway who had stood at their post. They might even turn their heads to check in on their current ruler...
    But by that point Arthur was gone.