2445/The Bridge, the Witch, and the Godling

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The Bridge, the Witch, and the Godling
Date of Scene: 14 July 2020
Location: Greenwich Village
Synopsis: Amanda Sefton happens upon Phobos, and introduces him to the trouble in Brooklyn.
Cast of Characters: Alexander Aaron, Amanda Sefton




Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Empire State's campus may not be the most lauded school in the city. There are other places of learning that have a stronger presence in the academic world. Other places that offer better courses, or instructors with greater prestige. Other institutes that have better equipment. But for Alexander Aaron only a few things really matter to him about where he pursues his extended education.
    The first, is the convenience of it. So close to his home. So close to Washington Park with the fountain famous for that sit-com that his dad used to sit in front of the television and laugh at. It also has some of the best athletic facilities. But the main reason he chose it over the others?
    Best mascot. An eagle if you're curious.
    But on this day none of that occurs to him as he's settled on the corner dog park so close to campus. Just off of 34th and a little refuge of nature on the busy streets. A small oasis from the hustle and bustle of footsteps as pedestrians rush by, a hot dog vendor strolls past, and even a food truck has set up a place on the corner to do business. Falafel. Yum.
    For now, however, the young Olympian is curled up on the bench, a book across the lap of his folded legs and his ever-present backpack settled beside him. Occasionally he glances up to people watch, curiously hazel eyes following after this person. That person. He doesn't really stand out in a crowd. Handsome in a way, though moreso if he dressed better. His wearing of over-sized jeans and a t-shirt is not exactly flattering. But that shock of pale blond hair stands out a touch now and then. Might draw the eye.
    Unless someone had a sense for the arcane and mystical. Then, well, he might stand out much moreso.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda Sefton has spent more of her time on the Upper West Side since coming to the city than in any other neighbourhood -- unless you count Central Park. This day, however, she has been in Greenwich. Partly, she's been sourcing some things she needs for her burgeoning new business. Partly, she needed to stop in to Empire State's archeology department and speak with a visiting professor there... a contact from Europe.

Now, having accomplished both tasks, she has gone for a stroll in the storied neighbourhood. Her expression is pensive. Her hands are wrapped around the strap of the leather satchel she carries today, rather than a smaller purse. She wears a light tee and pair of stylish jeans and sandals. Nothing special or remarkable. Her hair is tied back, but a few strands fall into her face. As the breeze catches them and blows them into her eyes, she blows them back with a puff of air.

That's when she catches the strong aura on the bench she approaches. She can't help but turn her attention there, observing the young man as she draws nearer along the path.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Without the senses beyond that she possesses he would seem so at ease. There is the casual way he's settled there upon the bench, his legs folded under him, one hand upon his knee and the heavy book balanced on the other. It's a tome or a text of some kind, opened wide without the spine nor title visible easily. But with that subtle ability of perception she holds she can see that aura about him. Can see the small tendrils that extend from him, bare wisps of something ethereal that connect him to the people around him. Barely there, barely perceptible, but something that seems to show him keyed into the world around him on some level out of the norm.
    Or what is perceived as the norm by a sorcerer such as her.
    Then his head turns and she can see he's young. No illusion, no deception. A being of power but with true youth in his manner and the way those curious eyes meet hers. Just a moment, she'll see the t-shirt he wears which is black in color but with two yellow Bs upon it, though with he first facing backward so it's nestled against the second creating a logo of some sort.
    His head tilts slightly as he peers at her, offers a smile that carries no malice, but then he looks away. If she can perceive him... perhaps he cannot perceive her in the same way.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Were he fully a god, he could. Especially with the trauma of the city and the fluctuating of the Winding Way that is her anchor. Between the two, and the natural aura all beings possessed of magic possess -- easily perceptible to gods -- she likely lights up like a beacon to his father's senses. But, maybe not his.

She meets his eyes, since he looks up at her, if only briefly. "Sorry," she says. "I was trying to place the logo on your shirt."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A hand rests across the book on his knee and he turns his attention fully to her. His eyes when looked directly on are curious, that hazel of pale blue and jade green, but there's something golden in their depths as he lets his smile drift easily to life. It lights up his features and he answers openly, with no hint to self-consciousness.
    "It's Team Banzai." One hand lowers to pull the shirt out so he can look down at it, as if making sure he's remembering correctly what he's wearing. But then his eyes return to hers again and that smile is there, "It's umm," His head tilts to the side as his eyes lift upwards, "From an old movie. That my uncle kinda liked."
    His features shift a little to the side as if expecting her to give him a hard time about that for some reason.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Yeah... Really, cult movies are outside of Amanda's wheelhouse. Golden Age of Hollywood, on the other hand... Her brother's an Errol Flynn groupy. "Huhn," she says, less a query and more of a statement. "Can't say I've heard of it." But, then, she is about ten years his senior -- and probably ten years his uncle's junior. So maybe it's a generational thing. (Or it could be she's just not that big of a geek.)

"I'd have placed it for a rock band, me." She's more familiar with that side of the entertainment world. Though even that isn't where her geekcred lies.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Those eyes lift up as if searching for answers, skewing a little to the right as his smile broadens. "Well, I mean." Alexander uncurls a hand toward her and he says, "It sort of is. In a way." Since really, Buckaroo Banzai was a pretty gifted individual.
    But then he bites his lower lip as his eyes hold hers for a moment, then abruptly... as if a decision was made, he pushes himself to his feet and stands up. Taller than her, but only four or five inches or so. He extends a hand to her and says, "My name is Alexander. Alexander Aaron. Or Alex. If you want."
    And should she take his hand she'll feel a hint of callouses between thumb and forefinger, otherwise smooth. He'll give a firm shake, but not aggressive. Just business-like, three pumps and done.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda considers the greeting for half a second. But, then, she is the one who interrupted him. "Amanda," she says in return, accepting the handshake in like fashion. "Nice to meet you, Alexander." She gestures to the book that was on his lap. "I didn't meant to interrupt your studies." She didn't catch its title.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    With it folded up and set aside the title is a touch more obvious, 'The Crucible of Winter' by Richard Dean of some small repute in the study of ancient cultures and of late mutant culture as well if she had heard of the fellow. But when she gestures to it, Alexander's eyes flit back then toward her.
    "Oh it's fine. Just trying to get ahead of some of the reading assignments?" His eyes slip past her to the school campus just across the street and then back to her gaze. His eyes flit between her irises, curious as if trying to figure which is the best to speak to for some reason.
    "Not an interruption really." His brow quirks as he draws back and then starts to retake his seat, hefting the book and then settling it in his lap once he sits back down on the park bench more like a normal person.
    "Please, feel free to join me if you like."
    Perhaps there is some small aspect of her that causes him to pause for a moment. Perhaps aware of a faint hint of fear that might have been there when she glimpsed at him with those enhanced senses. Or perhaps just some micro-tell that gives him a hint that things might not be entirely at ease. So he asks, "Are you alright?"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda has heard of Dean. She has both too many friends in the mutant community not to have heard of him and more than a passing interest in ancient cultures. But it's his final question that diverts her attention. Her head cants curiously. "Can't you feel it?" she asks, giving voice to her curiosity.

She gestures vaguely to the park, though the gesture really takes in the whole city. "The city's in pain and the balance around here is so far off-kilter you could use it for a metaphysical skislope."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I umm," She can tell she has his curiousity. It's there in how he draws a breath, holds it, as if trying to get a feeling for the world around him... then exhales slowly. A tilt of his head is given, "I umm," He repeats succinctly. Something about her definitely, perhaps it's in the way she carries herself, or he can feel the Fates working their ways to bind her thread to his or vice versa.
    "I can tell something is not entirely right." Which, is a curious confession from him. It may be innocently murmured, though with her perception of him, how he is keyed in to the people around him. It speaks more to that.
    Then his brow knits and he asks with a hint of curiousity easing into his words now. "Who are you?" Though perhaps the better question would be, 'what are you?'

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda's head cants. Her blue eyes skitter up and down his form. She's not, however, evaluating his physical appearance. That's there in her expression and the way her eyes flit to the air surrounding his body rather than his flesh itself. "You're completely interwoven in to everything around you. Your aura." A beat. "Though... yeah, I guess it's more like whisps than webs."

She shakes her head, as if clearing it. "Sorry... I have a small ability with aura reading." Among other things. Yeah. She learned a long time ago not to advertise she's a witch. But, in Greenwich, being someone interested in auras or the New Age isn't so unusual.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Ah," That single sound is given back in reply to Amanda's words. Not that he wasn't paying attention, for some reason his eyes followed along with her lips as she spoke at points, his brow furrowing as if grasping at the understanding. Yet when he answers he seems reasonably at his ease.
    "Oh I imagine, I would? Maybe? Seem that way I mean." Not that he is an expert in auras.
    And then with a slight hint of a smile he touches a hand to his chest, "I'm, Phobos." As if that was a normal thing. "I sort of have a sense for..." He looks around the place and bites his lower lip again as his head tilts back and forth as if he were searching for the right word.
    "The people around me, their... tension level. Their fear."
    Then back to her he smiles, perhaps disarming to some people in some ways, but with those eerie eyes it might have the opposite effect. "So that might explain my aura?"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Then, it's a good thing that Amanda isn't broadcasting fear. Caution? Yes. And when the young man gives his name, her brows rises and her caution -- tension -- increases. But not greatly. Nowhere near outright fear. She's seen too many truly frightening things to waste terror on the youth before her. Until his countenance or his intent changes, she can stay at her ease.

"Phobos," she echoes. A smile of understanding comes to her lips, respect in her eyes. "In that case, I'm honoured." She chuckles softly. "And yes. It explains your aura. Though, truthfully, I'd have expected it to be much stronger or much softer." Because, you know, Loki splashes his aura all over the place. Until he doesn't. And that's scarier.

She cants her head. "Forgive my forwardness, Phobos, but I have to ask: Do you taste the fear in the city? And are you causing it?" In other words: Is he the threat she's been seeking?

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Well," Alexander smiles, his features brightening with that look. Definitely does not look like a god of fear. There is no great terrible aspect to him, no glow of malice or horror. He's just this perhaps too pale youth with that shock of blond hair and that smile.
    "Don't be too honored, I've only been Phobos for the last three years." Which, likely, has a story connected to it. Yet when she doesn't seem to flip out on him, or flee in terror or the like, it seems to hearten him with the conversation so his manner relaxes a little.
    "I... sense the fear of the world? I suppose you could say." He shifts on his seat a little and turning to the side to look at her more directly, seated and with his eyes lifted up to her. One arm settles on the back of the bench and one knee on the seat beside him. "Though in the city, yes. There has been a heightened tension to it. But no, I'm not causing it."
    A beat.
    Then his eyebrows lift, "I mean, I don't think I am. I'd imagine I'd notice that, right?"

Amanda Sefton has posed:
So... he's... a kid?

Amanda blinks, brows still high. That explains the whispiness. He's still in 'the mortal coil', so to speak. She smiles wryly now, but there's a slight easing of tension in her body, too. Oh, she's not ready to underestimate his power. She doesn't know how full it may or may not be. Nor, really, can she take him entirely at his word. (Gods aren't the most reliable of self-witnesses. Kinda like Demons.) Not until she knows him better. But...

"Likely," she says congenially in reply to his query. "I've been working under the assumption that the Wound to the city is from the damage caused by the skull ship, rather than any divine source." She chuckles softly. "Divine magic has a flavour." Of course, the energy in the Wound is shifting. And her attunement is incomplete. So... Yeah, there might be a god involved. Even just a nascent one.

But her gut tells her it's not him. "Still. I could be wrong." Her eyes dance with self-deprecating humour. "I haven't seen everything, quite yet."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    She can't go and say something like that without him latching onto it with the purity of curiousity that is the penchant of the truly young. As his smile grows he asks her curiously, "Really?" About the flavor of Divine Magic, his head tilts. "What does it taste like?"
    Inquiring minds need to know.
    But then she presses on and he nods along with her, accepting what she says. "Do you need help looking for it?" His eyebrows lift as he tilts his head the other way, something almost like a quizzical canine to him as he looks to her. "I don't know if I have any ability that might aid you, but I'm not without my talents." Which she may get a hint to a subtle shift of his body language, pride? Curious indeed.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Depends on the divinity," Amanda says with a casual shrug. "Some are rich, some are smooth, most are *spicy*." Her eyes sparkle with humour as she says that. She's not really speaking about him, now. But she's seen others...

Her head cants at his offer. The fact is, hero though she may be, she's had truck with beings far less than pure and benevolent. "What sort of talents?" she asks. A single brow arches, now, curiosity in the tilt. "I'm not sure what might help."

Mainly because she's still trying to determine what, exactly, she's looking for.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Disbelief is evident there in those golden irises as he laughs a little but turns his head askew just a bit. Eying her sidelong it's clear he thinks she's making light of him and he simply answers with, "Mmmhmm. So we're like a macchiato of divine energy, I see."
    Yet he does not call her on it, accepting it as he will and then tilts his head back to her. "Well." She asks of his talents.
    "I'm very nice. Friendly. People seem to like me." So modest. "I can handle myself pretty well, and if needs be I have some other little simple tricks and nonsense that help me out from time to time."
    Spicy indeed.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Not at all," Amanda insists. Then she chuckles. "The problem of describing 'flavour' is that it's like beauty -- all in the eye of the beholder." She shrugs. "Besides, I think of flavours more like colours. Just like in a painting, there are bright, warm hues -- the spices, so to speak. And dark, cool hues -- they tend to be smooth. And then there's everything in between. The greater the power the richer the flavour." A beat. Another half-shrug. "And, frankly, when the divine decides to put on a show, most of us mere mortals really can't stand the heat. I prefer to be out of the metaphorical kitchen at that point."

Never mind that she's usually at the stove with her hand on the skillet.

Her head cants. "Tell you what... if you're up to a bit of a roadtrip, I'll show you where I first noticed the Wound. Maybe you'll get a better read off it than I will."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I was hoping it'd be something amusing and decisive." Alexander says as he leeans over toward the side and grabs his backpack. There's a faint whir of the metal teeth as he undoes the zipper and slips his book inside of it, then another whirrrr as he closes it back up. Slung over one shoulder he rises and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Like," He stops and does a rough approximation of her voice, but not at all accurate, "'Oh it tastes like Nacho Cheese. Yup.'"
    Then his own voice, "What you mean like in a movie theater?"
    Then back to faux-Amanda voice, "'Yes, exactly like movie theater nacho cheese.'"
    And then the voice stops and his lips twist with wry amusement, perhaps either expecting one of two things. Utter indignation, or laughter. Or both.
    "But sure. Road trip." A grin, "Let's go."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda laughs at that and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, no god I've met has ever been Nacho Cheese. But, I'm pretty sure there's a hell dimension devoted to the stuff." Nacho cheese, indeed. Disgusting stuff.

She looks around the park, then, to see how many people are paying any attention to them. Overall? Not many.

With a whispered word and a small arcane hand gesture, she sets up a subtle redirection spell that generally causes passersby to continue to ignore them. "C'mon," she says, gesturing (non-arcanely) for him to follow. Then, she leads him to a more remote area of the park and opens a portal clear across the island to a shadow in the lee of the Brooklyn Bridge.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There is no trepidation from him for whatever reason. Though with the god of terror and fear, she might well infer. The portal is accepted as if it were simply so, and he steps through it into the great gloom of the old bridge's silhouette cast down upon the pavement and cement.
    Hands upon his hips as he emerges, he looks back to her and his smile is an easily given thing. "That's handy,"
    A few more steps as he turns to look his surroundings over, one hand reaching to adjust the strap of his backpack upon his shoulder as he then tilts his gaze toward her. "Sometimes I feel like I'd trade a smidge of my other abilities just so I wouldn't have to take the train everywhere." So tedious.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"It is," Amanda agrees. Travelling spells are a specialty. "Though, it's not without its risks. Often, the train is the better option."

Regardless, she moves out from the shadow to walk a ways along to a spot that affords a view of the far shore where the outer borough lies. She points in the direction of the recent destruction. "You see that scar? There's a metaphysical one there, too. Only the disturbance around it is so intense I get get close enough to really know what's going on."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Quietly following behind her, just settled into her path as she moves. He cants his head to the side as he considers the wound that lies near, the borough and its metaphysical complaint not entirely to his awareness though he can see the recent damage.
    One hand pushes into that wild ragged hair of his and gets it out of his eyes, a curiously similar gesture as she used earlier. His brow furrows. "That's weird." Just two words said softly, hesitantly.
    His empty hand reaches out, fingers extending and spreading then he closes them into a fist and lowers that hand. Head tilted to the side.
    "I've never felt fear as like... coming from something inanimate. But I sort of feel it now. Here." His eyebrows lift, "That's so weird."

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda nods to that. "Yeah." She inhales deeply through her nose. "It hurts," she says bluntly. "The citysoul is in agony. When I first got here, I tried meditating to connect with it..." Her voice trails off and she shakes her head. "It didn't go well."

Of course, in saying all that, she probably also reveals that a) she hasn't been here that long and b) she's got more power than an 'aura reader' would. Not that any of that's a surprise given her British/Continental accent and her display of power thus far.

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to suss out a witch in such a case.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "You know," Alexander says partly to himself, but then the latter words are aimed mainly at her. "My father told me to stay away from magical folks." He folds his arms over his chest as he ponders the tableau before him. The great archway of the tall bridge above him and around him. His eyes flit over toward Amanda, then back to that impression of palpable fear presented by...
    The city? So weird.
    He takes a deep breath, "He says that you're all crazy and with your heads..." A pause, then he perhaps rethinks repeating the quote verbatim and instead says, "Well his opinion isn't hugely high."
    hen he turns to face her and murmurs, "But yeah, I umm, might be able to help with this. If you need me." And it may be so that he wants to make sure that he isn't responsible for this in some way.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Your father is Ares?" Amanda asks. She knows mythology pretty well. A dry chuckle. "I don't imagine he's the biggest fan of the Mystic Arts." Not, mind, that she has any sort of firsthand knowledge about that. It's all book-learning, in this case.

She looks out over the city, herself, however, and her brows knit. "I don't know what's needed, yet," she admits. "But only a fool turns down a genuine offer of aid." *Genuine* being the key word in that sentence. She spares the youth a sidelong glance. "I suspect you can help." If he can control fear... maybe he can keep it from overwhelming everyone.

Unless it proves too much of a draw for him, of course. You just never know which colour's going to come up in the divine roulette.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Alexander's head bobs a few times in answer, yes that Ares. He worries at his lower lip as his mouth twists, eyebrows lifting upwards as he nods casually. His father definitely does have his opinions, and to be fair the youth shares most of them. Then his smile slips a little wry.
    "Oh this was a genuine offer of aid though more..." He picks up on the subtle word choice, and then eyes her sidelong with a hint of a half-smirk that makes his features take on a hint of the diabolic, but only so much so as one can imagine a mischievous youth can manage. "More sanguine I'd say."
    Oh he amuses himself doesn't he?
    A step is taken forward as he reaches an edge of the street and kneels before it, running fingertips along the length of an old crack in the asphalt that was sealed up. "Maybe benign? And a touch divine."
    So pleased with himself. The jerk.
    Rolling back to his feet he looks at her. "You have secrets you know, but that's fine. Keep them keep them. Share whatever whenever." Since it's clear that the young Phobos does seem horribly confident. Or without fear.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
"Everyone has secrets," Amanda says. "I imagine you do, too." She chuckles dryly. "My mother has opinions about gods that likely match your father's opinions about magic users. But there's a blessing where I'm from: May the gods never know your name."

Mostly because the gods her family has tangled with in the past are decidedly less benign than this fellow seems to be.

"I'll take you at your word, Phobos," she tells him openly, now. "At least until I've cause not to. And I'll offer you my word in kind."

It's a deal that stops short of the old witches' binding 'Let there be only truth between us,' which makes it nearly impossible for either witch to lie to the other. At least for the duration of their meeting.

But the sentiment is there. She'll give him a chance.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There is something formal about those words, he can sense the subtle weight given to them and the hint of portent alluded to. His head tilts as he looks back to her and then he walks forward and tells her calmly, "Well, what do they say where you come from..."
    There's a faint click as he reaches to his back pocket and with an ease of motion produces his cellphone then swipes it to life with the brush of his thumb. The LCD screen illuminates and he taps a key, and suddenly his information is given to the ether and the air. And to bluetooth.
    "About giving gods your phone number?" And as he says that his grin is utterly unrepentant, perhaps cherubic if one were of the mind. Or diabolic if they so chose. But whatever it ends up being, she's at the least made a friend.
    For now.

Amanda Sefton has posed:
Amanda looks at the phone. And then laughs brightly. "Never. Because that means Fate puts you on speed dial!"

That said, she does give the request a moment's consideration. *Usually,* when asked for her number by other 'hero' types, she gives them a small charmed crystal that allows them to contact her at need without the need for a phone. Mostly because she doesn't want them tracing her via technology. But there's no way she's giving the godling a piece of her magic like that... mostly in case his father decides to look in on him.

Thus, honouring her agreement to trust him, she reaches out for the phone so she can put her number in it for him. "But, in your case, I'll make an exception."

Have at it, Fates!