2454/Doom on Doom

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Doom on Doom
Date of Scene: 14 July 2020
Location: Coffee of DOOM
Synopsis: Doom visits Coffee of Doom and receives a gift.
Cast of Characters: Clea, Victor Von Doom

Clea has posed:
Coffee of Doom, a pun in itself, has a branch not terribly far from the Latverian Embassy itself. Another might be called for in Washington Square Park, possibly more in Gotham, Metropolis, elsewhere afflicted by aliens. All to remind that civilization comes in the wake of ruin. Gentility and discussion flow where arguments once reigned. The iron fist of Doom is not purchasable in a 16 ounce ceramic carafe, but it certainly influences high quality standards answerable to a Herald, mayhap.

Clea opts not to float for once, her feet firmly on the ground by a tactile impression rather than anything else. Wearing slim jeans and a peasant blouse reimagined with a lot more style actually helps her fit in more, rather than being the woman with eerie, undulating skirts like an underwater dream. "And here we are," she announces with a low, melodic chiming tone in, naturally, Latverian. All that committed practice makes rather good impressions, hopefully.

I appreciate the hint of decadence that never quite comes to the surface, but pervades the classic, cosmopolitan elegance of the city. Here I could dream of peace and indulge myself in a round of conversation til dusk." A mild observation, even with her fingertips closed around the handles of a small bag tufted by opalescent white and warm green tissue paper. No clarity of what that actually contains. A present, obviously. Or shopping went well.

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Doctor Doom, absolute monarch of Latveria, would-be ruler of the Earth save for some pesky heroes, strides into the coffee shop. However, his normal armor is not present, as that would clearly attract far too much attention. Instead, he wears a simple magical glamer to conceal his true face, as well as a short sleeved dress shirt of classic European fare. Black slacks complete the ensemble, as he also has on a green tie, done in a Winsdor with a tie clasp with the Latverian pin.

He glances over towards Clea, following her inside, and he smiles, "I admit, I have not had the opportunity to come visit this place, though I was curious what you had in mind. For a second I thought you were asking me to conquer Columbia for you." He looks mildly amused at that notion, "This is... delightful. It reminds me of the coffeehouses in my youth, to be truthful."

Clea has posed:
"Colombia is beautiful but I would leave it to its own people. They deserve the chance to establish something with lasting stability and impact after the difficulties of their past." A voracious reader or simply knowledgeable after centuries entombed in her own dimensional prison, Clea doesn't lack for interest in the world or awareness of affairs going on. Doom needs more to talk about than Richards, the latest failed experiment Richards has tried, or the inexpert attempts to broker peace between nations, superpowers, alien empires and more. In short: worthy of the unspoken title.

Inward means finding a space. Is it beneath the painting? Besides a sculpture, near a piano, adjacent the window? The choice is his. "They spoke with me frequently. I confess giving an impression that I knew certain elements," she explains. Clea, Mistress of Coffee Shops! Trust her to have put a few words in here or there with the right folk, and confirmed via portal or scrying.

"Let's find ourselves something to indulge ourselves with." She smiles at Doom, waving her hand with an indolent delight as she spins to face him. "What pleasures await you, I hope."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor smiles warmly, "Good, I'm not inclined to annexing other nations... well, at least ones that already have such unfortunate history." He makes a bit of a face at that, taking a moment to just savor the aroma of Latverian coffee suffusing the coffeehouse.

Then he nods, "Though with the salvage we recently obtained, it's good to get out of the lab for once. Events have been keeping me most preoccupied, which is never good." He smiles, "And you seem to have captured the style of my homeland perfectly, which is all I could have asked for." With that, he leads towards a window seat, first offering a chair for Clea before taking his own seat.

"With you, I could never even fathom the depths of pleasurable conversation we might have. Though, I do have some thoughts about the recent unpleasantness with that fool Brainiac. I did notice some... distortions, in the Astral Plane, around his ship. Very peculiar, indeed." How did he notice them? Well, he IS Doom after all...

Clea has posed:
"No annexation. We have no need to expand the territories of Latveria at the present time, surely?" The tilt up of a question lingers on her lips, dancing gracefully across the vibration of her accent. "Unfortunate history does not make for an unfortunate future. I imagine that's the regular conversation to be had to assure concerned or misguided politicians and media." Her head tilts for the pearl wash of her hair to spill away, mostly parted to the side, giving her facial features a shadowy cast.

"You have been busy. Whatever with?" she murmurs to Victor, lifting a smile slightly favouring one side over the other. "One can but try. Several different influences came into this, I am sure. Not only work, but a composite effort for many knowledgeable people. Nearly every piece here is either a composite or recycled, as well, or reappropriated from a building that was being demolished." She settles at the seat, giving him the wall if he prefers. Thrown glass won't hurt her; no evidence for danger there if someone tried to attack through the plate glass. It might be a remote danger, but something they will always be mindful of.

No signs of any Mindless Ones, anyway, no threats of monsters crawling through the shadows. "Pleasurable conversations come always to us. I will not flinch from something difficult, knowing what I do of your heart." Not all, but enough. Can it be enough? Her fingers curl lightly. "Disturbances around his ship? There was a great deal of disturbance, and the attacks have given trouble to the leylines. Worse, in fact. I will have to talk with the Doctor about some of them, for it presages a greater difficulty. Attacks on this scale have massive disruptions that often ripple uncontrollably for months." Head tipped down, she gives a little shake for it. "We have turbulence ahead. What part you and I can take to stabilize that will pay great dividends."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor nods, "Indeed, and I have plans regarding that as well, though it is slow going in some ways. We shall see what sort of stability can be presented." He smiles warmly at Clea, "In this case, even though he was no mage, there were... irregularities, I sensed, around the astral plane where his ship was stationed. As if projections were being made /into/ the astral realm, but not through magical nor psychic means. If he had that level of technology, then that could be something to our benefit."

A faint smile, as Victor, even without visible armor, looks rather unafraid of the random assassination attempt. But then, he always manages to have some measure of contingencies about him, "And I have been busy sorting through the salvage of the ship, that I have managed to secure, anyway. The method Brainiac used of shrinking cities is a curious one, and bears further study. If it can be replicated, the uses for it are numerous. Population control, resource management..." Shrinking the Baxter Building to the size of a Coke bottle and taunting Richards...

Clea has posed:
"Perhaps you might look into the diminution of waste products produced by human cities. Not with an eye to increase the stockpiles, but to enable their recycling or entropic demise at a faster level." Clea might have an inkling of where Victor's mind is headed. Being asked to read between the lines around dangerous tyrants and megalomaniacal relatives will give a girl no little sensitivity when it comes to stray shadows. Perhaps the greatest trick in the book is nudging them back to a common good or to true. Great human minds, great human shadows. She puts the green-tissue gift on the table and shifts her focus to the waiter coming near, awaiting the opportunity to request a coffee blitzed with orange liqueur and a dash of chocolate, and one of those tempting tortes thick with the flavours and scents of Latveria. Precious cake!

In the meantime, she gives a thoughtful look. "Technology projecting into the Astral Realm or meaningfully interacting with it? This concerns me. Few things can leave an impression there without losing phase themselves. It has always been one of the great protections to the human mind, the human spirit. Battering a space in there violates the right of man to liberty and privacy." Her breath drawn in, she tilts forward a nudge and releases it. "I do not like it. As it stands, though, let's be glad the ship was not consigned to too many questionable places. The technology coming out could be problematic."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor nods, "It was consigned to enough that I distrust their ability to keep it under control." He smirks, "After all, //I// was able to obtain some evidence of this, and begin to use it for my own ends. It follows that others might be able to do likewise." He considers, "The dissolution of waste... yes, that's actually a good idea as well. Something to consider, particularly if things continue on their current course." He nods towards the server, and takes a simple coffee, laced with a hint of brandy and nothing sweet for the present. Leaving the sugar for Clea, in this particular instance.

"Between Brainiac and General Zod, well, it does appear that Earth is destined to attract far more attention than it is realistically ready for. Two invasions put down, thanks to the limited resources of the invaders. But should an actual galactic Empire show up in force.. it bodes ill, I think."

Clea has posed:
"Is the technology the concern or the willingness that another would use it?" asks Clea, searching for the quiet tone and the right way to inquire after the topic. She isn't in a rush to lean in any given sense or suggestion that things could be amiss. Not that they really are, but the tangent is certainly quiet, reflective in a sense.

Quiet, but not without thought or personal opinion. "It seems we are too much on the crossroads, isn't it? I look forward to a time when the respect for this planet is firm, but in the meantime, we are called on to protect our homes and peoples. To lead by example, as we always have been."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor hmms, "Technology exists, and will continue to make strides forward. So the fact that there is a technological means of... blockading, the Astral Plane doesn't bother me. The fact that someone else could use that, against Earth in general and against Doom in particular, /is/ disturbing." He sips his coffee when it arrives, contemplating the matter.

"And yes, the crucible has been lit, it seems. And now we shall see what emerges from the forge. For better or for ill. And Doom shall lead, as he has done." A pause, and then he smiles slightly towards Clea, "Though I am gratified to not be doing it alone."

Clea has posed:
The fact that someone would dare the Astral leaves the mystic seated across from him entertaining her own notions, those cloudy violet eyes full of dangerously shimmering notions. She isn't fully there, not entirely. A piece of Clea's consciousness reaches out to tap into the mystical elements around them, though it can hardly be ignored a shadowy wound strikes the very fabric of the city. It cannot be mistaken for aware senses, and hers are so sharply attuned to the realms invisible, pain almost burns into her skin. "The city bleeds, my heart, and not only because of the scars cut into it. Sooner or later, I will have to make a stand against the poison bled in from Brainiac's attack."

She reaches across the table as their drinks come, taking Victor's hand in her own while he speaks of the forge, the light and the spark, reshaping futures and ideas. And how can one compare to a mind so brilliant as that? Hold on and hope for the best?

"Open the gift," she says without any insistence. "You chose not to do such alone, just as I chose to walk a path together with you."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor smiles, squeezing Clea's hand in his, "Of course, my heart." With that, he takes a sip of coffee, setting down the cup and looking curiously at the gift for a moment. Then, he judiciously and carefully unwraps the paper, extracting the gift from its packaging with care and precision, as whatever it is will be very precious for him.

Of course, considering its source, could it be anything but?

Clea has posed:
Inside the nest of green and opal tissue paper is a hard, elongated case that might be used to hold glasses perhaps. Though giving Doom spectacles might be considered rather strange, unless they happen to be remarkable sunglasses he can whip off with a devastating effect. Preferably a rumbling 'yeow!' in the background. Are they getting ahead of themselves?

Inside is a curious creation, a single pair of metal cufflinks shaped of a dark, iridescent steel-like metal. A slender strand above it is far, far too delicate for him: the chain is practically invisible, the pendant on it a simple bit of polished metal with a simple interlocked D forming a complete sphere. It practically floats by itself, charged with a transmutative form of magic on it.

Clea has posed:
"They are a set," enthuses the white-haired sorceress. "When wearing the cufflinks, they engage the enchantments on the necklace."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor tilts his head, smiling as he studies the curious cufflinks, "This is... fascinating. You crafted this yourself?" He sees the magic easily enough, refraining from just diving right in with what they can do and analyzing them deeply in favor of letting her explain. He's learning!

He then ahs a bit at her explanation, "What enchantments would those be?" He glances over at her with a curious expression, wishing to hear more about this generous gift, indeed!

Clea has posed:
Giving a mild shake of her head, Clea reaches for that orange-washed coffee. The liqueur within has a heavenly, uplifting scent she cannot deny. Breathing in the fragrance, her eyes close with evident delight for a brief moment. "I will never tire of the diversity of flavours the worlds have to offer. When my palate is exposed to all these different joys, I can hardly resist the lure of a restaurant or a campfire. It's one of those happiest experiences on Earth." Right, alien queen; how not to remember?

She nods to Victor's question. "I did. Shaping is well within my experience, especially in the finer pieces. I shall not tell you how often that particular metal misbehaves, but it's usually found in an alloy form and highly susceptible to magical resonance unless treated carefully. Pickier than a cat," she uses, to quote an easy comparison. Still, it pleases her to watch him resist digging in. Her torte beckons as she puts the cup down and picks up her fork. "I cannot charge the enchantment. It waits for your call, not mind. If you supply your mark and power, it will enable me to know your contentment or wrath, and similarly you to know mine. Perhaps an unnecessary, old-fashioned token, but it may be useful when necessity forces us to enter a situation where we are separated. Or when it is not prudent nor acceptable simply to ask, such as when we were in Latveria. Hardly prudent to interrupt."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor nods, "Of course, utterly prudent, practical, and delightful. Much like the gift-giver." He smiles towards Clea at that, then takes a moment to put on the cufflinks, first rolling down the sleeves of his shirt so that there's an actual place for them, then fitting them onto the cuffs of the sleeves. "Aha, there. May I, my dear?" With that, he holds up the necklace, head tilting just a bit.

Clea has posed:
Forget that torte, she can wait on a cake. Pushing the plate aside, she slips out from around the table. Doing it across the table simply wouldn't work. Clea calmly pulls her hair aside to bare her nape. She turns, standing, facing away from Victor. He shall have to stand to manage it, or yank her down, either being totally possible.

"Prudent? I should think not! I am a most harmless, untroubling young lady capable of getting up to occasional mischief. Never shall I be thought boring. Practical gifts only on the surface, such as you seem to delight it. It only appears like a key holder and may diagnose fourteen common diseases and administer antivenin or a common vaccine compound with a touch?" This lilts off her tongue with a delighted ease. "I never tire of your ingenuity, nor the good applications you put it towards."

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor actually laughs softly at that, "And I thank you for that appreciation, beloved." He rises easily to his feet, having no trouble clasping the necklace around Clea's slender neck with a *click*. The rapport is there, tangible now as he leans down to kiss the top of her head, "Harmless, untroubling young lady."

He actually snickers at that, taking his seat once more, "Well, one of those four things is true, my dear. Not that I have any complaints about that at all."

Clea has posed:
The click leaves that delicate chain hanging around her neck, the round disc nestled in the hollow of her throat. Very pretty, very delicate, and easily overlooked given its small size. A snap of the spell zinging into place, equalizing the massive pool of mana behind it, and the faint steady glow of wellbeing behind it. Contentment, and a wide streak of excitement bubbling deep that no one surely sees.

"Of course. Your harmless, untroubling young lady. Two things of that are true." Her smile casts a glimmer, even as the silvery glimmer shrouds her throat in a solid arc. "Shall we indulge the whole afternoon or take a stroll, my darling? They would surely be shocked to hear your opinion, as the only one that matters at the end of the day." Crown corporation much?

Victor Von Doom has posed:
Victor laughs softly, "No, in this case, I think it best that they have unspoken and anonymous approval. Better to motivate them, I believe." He smiles slightly, "Though the manager will be recognized for her work, of that I am certain." He pauses, thinking about it, "Perhaps one more cup, then a stroll through the park? With all the events and chaos of the past few weeks, to spend a bit of quiet time with you is worth more than anything else I could desire." Yes, even destroying the accursed RICHARDS!

Clea has posed:
"I would never turn down a chance. Central? One of the more local ones, perhaps? Imagine, we might just walk through short of an attack, a car accident, or a helicopter appearing while raining down some kind of peculiar biological agent." Oh, the days in the life of New Yorkers. Just another situation when they worry about attacks raining down on them. She sits back down and picks up her cup to sip once more at the beloved coffee concoction. "Quiet time is invaluable. I expect it will not stay so."