2796/Just Another Day At Coffee of Doom

Just Another Day At Coffee of Doom
Date of Scene:	05 August 2020
Location:	Coffee of DOOM
Synopsis:	A goddess and a world-class assassin walk into a coffee shop...surprisingly revealing conversation ensues.
Cast of Characters:	Amora, Slade Wilson

---

Amora has posed:

    Traffic is backedup as usual, that is nothing new, but the pileup outside is a bit odd, all the drivers and passengers flustered that they weren't at fault, all yelling at one another, and all of their stories don't match up in the slightest, like all of them were distracted entirely, causing 6 drivers to all almost simultanously take their feet off the breaks and roll into one another. The crashes aren't loud, but fairly clear as Amora strides through the door and surveys the room, brushing a stray blonde lock from her right eye, and causing a server to walk into a customer. A bemused titter escapers her lips as she sashays toward the counter, and peers at the options. When you are immortal, things like taking your time to select the right snack and drink are ones you savor and patiently plan.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Generally speaking, Slade Wilson doesn't tend to do "kitsch" and this place is...Kitschy. However, Slade's aversion to such things is not necessarily shared by his confidant and all-around aide-de-camp Major W. R. Wintergreen. Slade trusts Wintergreen's exacting standards, and Wintergreen says the coffee here is good. So somewhat begrudgingly, Slade Wilson has made his way to this particular establishment, having arrived a short while ago, seated at a table-for-four by himself, sipping on a mug of black 100% Ethiopian Coffee, with the remaining crumbs of some kind of pastry or croissant alongside, while studying an electronic tablet...reading the daily news, if one peeks over his shoulder.

Or at least, that's what he /was/ doing. The sounds from outside draw his attention, a brief moment of tension as he's always anticipating trouble, but the "Trouble" he spots is entirely a different type than expected.

Slade is a man with a formidable willpower, but that doesn't mean he lacks an appreciation for the aesthetic. WHile many in the shop stare slack-jawed and empty-brained, Slade's good eye takes in Amora as she makes her order with a certain degree of consideration and calculation. But he does take in the view nonetheless. Despite that, he may seem a bit of a beacon of control and calm compared to the abject distraction displayed by nearly everyone else.

Amora has posed:
    The vast options do lead to Amora taking longer than most people would be usually granted to pick, but Amora is not most people, and in time she sweetly commands the largest and richest Mocha Doomaccino that can make, along with a toasted bagel, one half with creme cheese and piled with lox, the other with a thick spread of fresh cloudberry jam. She could probably forgo paying, but she chooses to pay and tip generously, turning to find a place to sit.

    Usually a place like this would have people departing and vacating seats on a fairly regular basis, but if anything, the cafe seems to filling up and people staying longer. This leads to the already pouted lips of Amora to grow more pouty. She is trying to act as close to mortal as she knows how, and she does not wish to act like the 'Karen', so commanding someone to give up their seat is not something she wishes to do... she could... she could probably even have a bunch make a living throne for her, but she isn't doing that, and so she looks for a place with many open seats, even if the table is occupied, as there are better odds for joining someone alone, and the request will seem more polite. So this leads her to the cyclopic gentleman sittin alone at a table for four, and so she sashays here way toward him, gently clearing her throat and then politely saying, "Pardon, sir. I see you are unaccompanied. Would you be awaiting coworkers, friends, or perhaps family? Or, if it is not an inconvenience, might I bother you to allow me to join you, as seating seems to be in high demand and short supply?" leaning a touch forward, taking a long deep inhale as she smells her coffee, and then adds, "I think we must blame this aromatic brew and the fine selection of palattables and potables for the growing crowd."

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade watches the approach, his expression betraying at least a hint of mild curiosity when Amora speaks. Oh, she's certainly got his undivided attention. He may be strong-willed but few in the Nine Realms can claim a complete immunity to Amora's charms, and fewer still of at least semi-mortal stock. So Amora makes her case, and Slade inclines his head, gesturing to the empty seats across from himself. "I'm not expecting anyone else, no. Feel free."

It might be noted that this is a far less gruff and standoffish response than Slade would likely normally give. Even (mortal) women of surpassing beauty might find themselves facing a much more begrudging welcome (though still likely an acceptance of their company). Somewhere in Slade's steel-trap mind there's an awareness of this, and an acknowledgment that whether actively or passively the divine beauty of Amora is altering his behavior. It's a realization that's filed away for later, however, as curiosity and yes, at least an inevitable glimmer of attraction win out. He does have SOME humanity left.

"I get the impression you're from out of town."

Amora has posed:
    With a simple polite nod, Amora slides into the offered seat and crosses her legs, placing her plate and drink upon the table before gracefully extending her hand, "A bit. I was born many years ago in the Norweigen country, a little farm outside Dalbygba, just north of the Trondheim Fjord, though I have traveled all over since then. I am Amora Idunna Incantare." a broad, albeit perhaps a bit mischevious smile crossing her lips, as if she knows every word she said is true when taken from the right perspective, and yet so much of hers statement is a false when taken in the more literal sense of how most would probably interpret them.

    She knows what her mere presence does to people, even if Amora had not intentionally enchanted herself to permanently amplify such affects when she was young, she is still a Goddess of Fertility and Love, her being promotes those factors, and just as Thor's mood can unconsciously affect the weather, her mood can further promote passion and attraction, both toward herself and others. That is perhaps even why she controls her feelings, because letting herself feel to much could lead to another Bacchanalia or a repeat of Old Hickory's Inaugeration.

Slade Wilson has posed:
There's a tilt of a silvery brow at Amora's recitation of her origins, even as he accepts her hand, shaking it firmly in a warm, dry clasp before releasing it. There's a slight hint that Slade suspects there's more to the story, or aspects still hidden...but then again that's no different from most people One hardly gets a full biography just for the asking. Still, the full name is...interesting. At least in terms of...only sounding 1/3 Scandinavian, really. He mentally calculates the location though. "Scandinavian would have been my guess as to where you started out, yes."

Slade sips his coffee a moment, setting it back down and adding, "Your English is flawless, Miss...or is it Misses? Incantare." He adds, "Slade Wilson. A bit of a globe-trotter myself. Personal security consultant by trade."

Amora has posed:
    Giggling a bit, Amora smiles, "Go far enough back, and my relatives probably were from all over the region. Never married. I was engaged to a poet once, but that feels like lifetimes ago. Nearly was in an arranged marriage to a cold hearted monster, but that didn't happen. No, very much a Miss. My family have empathetic ears, we learn accents and pick up languages almost like magic, it just all comes naturally to us." again the smile, the truths that are lies and lies that are truths, almost like she grew up around the most clever tongued of tricksters and had the knack rub of on her.

    Sipping her drink and slowly looking around the room, she shakes her head a bit, at the crowd, "So, Mister Wilson, if you are inquiring, am I to presume you are not married yourself? Since you said you weren't expecting anyone, so no wife, no husband, nor boyfriend, nay a girlfriend, or not even an off-spring meeting their widower father for some coffee and brunch?" perhaps her own curiosity peaked by her table companion.

Slade Wilson has posed:
"Not for a long time. She's still alive, but probably wishes I wasn't. Two children whose opinion isn't much better." He volunteers far more freely than he might otherwise. Indeed normally this would be quite the sore subject, but even basking in Amora's presence he manages to be at least somewhat circumspect, "They have moral issues with some of the people I occasionally work for." Among a giant laundry list of other things, but then again the abuses and betrayals Slade has heaped upon his family do in many ways genuinely pale to what some of the Gods might be capable of. Not that Addie or Joey or Rose are likely to care much about the difference.

Slade's tone on the matter is...matter-of-fact. Even if there are still aspects of it that affect him far more deeply than he would ever admit, much less to himself, it is not betrayed in his outward demeanor. These are all just things that happened, things that are the way they are and little to be done for it.

Another sip of coffee taken, and the obvious flow of conversation leads Slade to the next question, "So what brings you to New York City, Miss Incantare? Business or pleasure?"

Amora has posed:
     The question without a real answer, what really does bring Amora to NYC? Can it really be called business or pleasure? Is it a mix of both, or in fact neither at all? Is there a third option that better describes it? She isn't really working, so it isn't business. She rarely takes real pleasure for that matter, as the pleasure is getting what she wants, and she is somewhat coming to terms with that. Sipping her drink, she contemplates the answer, and then sighs, "Neither. I think I would call it more a undirected quest of inner self-discovery, semi spiritual awakening, and philosophical insight. Like a walkabout, vision quest, and maybe a bit of rumspringen mixed in. If I find business or pleasure along the way is not the goal, but would not be unwelcome either." she takes a deep breath and holds it a moment, her eyes half lidded, then she seems to sort of whisper a prayer over her drink, before taking another sip.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade's coffee is drained, the mug set aside for now as he hears Amora's answer. Or...well, it is an answer that says a great deal and very little at all. Which is the type of conversation he's quite accustomed to having so it really doesn't bother him. Indeed, there's a glimmer of amusement that crosses his face as he replies:

"You came to New York City for a vision quest? That seems...novel. I'd imagine there are a lot of people camped in very remote places that are going to be upset that they could've found what they were looking for while still having access to room service."

Amora has posed:
     The idea is amusing and does bring a smile to Amora's lips, "Different cultures do things differently. A punishment for one person is a reward for another. The idea is to get out of one's own head, so just because one person benefits from sittin on rocks and baking in the sun, doesn't mean that is the path for another person. I could have chosen to strip down to my bare skin and sit up to my chin in artic waters, as is frequently the way to escape one's mind in Iceland, Norway, and Scandinavia, but having grown up bathing that way, I saw no purpose in pouring icey cold water over myself and praying to Hod for patience to wait for my path to open up to me in time or Odin for visions what path I should take in life. I don't need to be bitten by a snake or consume some psychodelic, I just need to free my mind of my usual rut and welcome new opportunities. I mean I heard of one woman, so tired of guys giving her cheesy pick up lines, that went around town wearing a sign that said she was offering free kisses to anyone who wanted one and would rate their kisses, who ended up finding the love of her life because he was the best kisser she even kissed, but he'd been too shy to approach her before then. If I was feeling crazy, I guess I could try that." she then adds as an addendum, "And there is nothing wrong with room service and hot bubble baths to help you escape your life... unless that is your life."

Slade Wilson has posed:
"Well there's a few enticing mental pictures there." Slade murmurs with a touch of a wry smile, laughing about a single chuckle, mostly to himself. Though he follows that up with a more serious, "But I take your point. Falling into the same patterns, repeating the same cycles over and over again. I've never been particularly good at self-reflection, and most of my attempts to break those cycles have been, at their most generous description, dismal failures." Another half-smile, though there's the tiniest edge of bitterness to it, not directed at Amora, but perhaps inward, "I suppose some people just need to stick with what they're good at. But hopefully you can find better outcomes than I have."

Slade lifts his cup, catching the eye of one waitress who has managed to reclaim enough presence of mind to start doing her job again.

"Another, please." He requests politely, turning his attention back to Amora, "Maybe I'm too old for new tricks, as they say."

Amora has posed:
    If she noticed the bitterness, she doesn't seem to acknowledge it, but Amora shakes her head at the last statement, "As long as we live, we can always learn new things, strive to make changes, add new tricks and new ways of thinking. You learn more from failure than success anyway." she pauses to eat from the jam covered bagel, then adds, "Would you consider yourself a quitter Mister Wilson? You need not cease what you're good at, nor stick only to what you are good at either. We only learn by trying new things and working at the things we already know, and we only get better if we put in the time and effort to move past our failures and learn from them." she takes a moment to ponder, then raises the lox coated bagel to her lips.

Slade Wilson has posed:
"Have the cake and eat it too? Maybe..." Slade sips from the newly-refreshed cup, not minding that the waitress spills a small bit being this close to Amora. The steaming-hot liquid does hit Slade's hand, but he gives not even the slightest reaction to being scalded. For the particularly observant, the redness that results ends up fading as moments tick-by, until there was no sign of the minor burn at all. He just gives the waitress a nod and she moves off.

"I don't think there's anyone alive that knows me that would call me a "quitter" no." Slade looks darkly amused at the notion. "But a lot of those same people might worry about what "better" might mean for me in particular." Another sip of coffee, a thoughtful expression, "I suppose the real crux of it comes down to the question of: Do you /want/ to change?"

Amora has posed:
    A bemused smile crosses her lips as Amora thinks of how the phrase could be so flipped on its head, the definition of change being a bit broader when the abilities to actually polymorph and transmute beings and matter come into play, "I think the real crux of it comes down to if /you/ want to change, mister Wilson. You admit that few, if any, would even consider the word quitter and you in the same sentence, so why would you quit because of some failures? Perhaps I am not the only one in need of self-discovery and a few epiphanies? You could try the vision quests, walkabouts, sensory deprevation, artic freezing, or some other extreme experience to open your mind. You could see what pyschics and mediums advise... I hear some of them are genuine miracle workers who can set you on the right path. Or you could try to find something that helps you get out of your head to aid in your enlightenment. The choices are all yours to make. If you have a goal, seek it... but if you don't, then perhaps you need to find your path to find your goal so you can seek it." she slowly finishes the jam bagel, and lifts the lox cover bagel to her lips once more.

Slade Wilson has posed:
Slade chuckles once more at that, after another gulp of the dark beverage in his cup. "Experiences that others would consider extreme are more along the lines of routine for me. But slowing down to go for "routine" has never been anything that truly interested me. Challenge...risk...danger...that is where I thrive. Even my marriage was more a contest than a partnership." Another short, darkly amused laugh, "Still not sure who won. Or maybe we both lost."

"You strike me as someone that's experienced some extremes, yourself." He gestures towards his eyes...well...eye. "It's the eyes. You can tell when someone's seen more than the rest of their appearance might let on." He cants his head, studying Amora more intently, "At a glance I'd place you at...mid to late twenties. But you speak with far more self-certainty and experience than most in that age group could manage. You speak of customs and religious trappings that...while not completely gone...are archaic by modern standards, but you aren't uncomfortable with the modern world. So while I won't speculate as to your real age, I'm going to guess that I might by your reckoning practically be a child." He sips once more, steepling fingers before him, "And while I'm usually quite capable of avoiding the beauty trap, I've already offered more about myself than I would with virtually anyone else alive, because your very presence nudges me towards wanting to please you, by virtue of your phenomenal beauty." There's a faint smile, "So..alien, amazon, goddess, sorceress, or some combination of all or some of the above?"

Amora has posed:
    There us a moment of frustration, but raising her drink to her lips, she lowers it with a smile of actual appreciation and respect, Amora's voice lowered to little more then a sweet whisper, almost conspiratorial, "I really have been trying to behave myself, but some of my very nature makes that last issue an impossibility. I can dress and play like a mortal, but my presence compels a degree of desire and worship from those around me. I should have been wary of someone who mirrors All-Father not only in overall composure, but even as if in effigy to his sacrifice for wisdom, though I doubt you sought hidden waters in the north and plucked your own eye out to gain all-sight." she pauses and considers a true demonstration, but shakes her head a bit, "Some have hypothesized my kind is Aliens, and in a fashion we are. Countless Vikings and Celts have prayed to my kin and even to me, and often I have embraced the position of Goddess, so a more true term for me would be hard to find. While I probably do rival the Themyscarians in stature, I was not raised among them, but I the Valkyr are Amazons of fashion and while I am not counted among their ranks, I did study along side a few in my youth, and have bested a few others in combat when my hand was forced, so not wholey inaccurate either. As for a Sorceress, only one better in the Nine realms, and she boasts being my greatest mentor, the title of the Norn Queen, the roll of Goddess of Magic, and only being Odin's inferior in raw power, ranking me among the top 5 greatest Spell-Casters in existence, and more oft then not I have been called Sorceress or Witch. So I believe you encapsulated me quite well Mister Wilson." she actually does quitely applaud a moment, with her gloved hands, before continuing, "As for our ages, I am still quite young for my kind, and almost undoubtably still will be when your great-great-great grandchildren are old and dying. It sometimes isn't about how long you live, but what you make of that life while you have it. So does it really matter if the shortest strand of hair on my head is older then you many times over?"

Slade Wilson has posed:
"Not in the least." Is Slade's answer to Amora's question, after listening quite intently to every word she speaks, "Asgardian." He sums up, quietly, not overawed but with certainty. "Interesting." There are a whole host of other questions that could be asked, but Slade isn't of a mind to press his luck too hard. Goddesses and Sorceresses can both be fickle, and if he's found any measure of favor it's best not to squander it to indulge simple curiosity.

"I suppose you could say there was some hard-won wisdom gained when I lost my eye, but I suspect it was a very different variety from what Odin received, though I can't help but wonder if he ultimately found the taste equally as bitter in the end. Sometimes ignorance can be blissful, but I suppose that's not a trait that can be tolerated in a ruler. At least not one that isn't a puppet on a set of strings." He polishes off his second cup of coffee and offers a polite smile, if perhaps a degree or three warmer than what has previously been displayed, "And with that, I might quit while I'm still in some semblance of your good graces. I'd much rather prefer our next meeting start on pleasant terms."

Amora has posed:
     A bright smile crosses Amora's lips, even if she has been trying to deny herself, and act mortal, being treated with respect and reverence has its appeals, "Until then Mister Wilson. Do keep yourself safe. It would be a shame for our next meeting being me having to visit your spirit in Valhalla, or worse, Hel." she eats a bit more of the lox, savoring the flavor in her mouth, but waves a friendly goodbye, uncrossing her legs and crossing them the other way after all this time.