9077/Indentured Servitude at Alexander's Place! :-)

Indentured Servitude at Alexander's Place! :-)
Date of Scene:	14 December 2021
Location:	3B - Alexander's Greenwich Loft
Synopsis:	Alexander teaches Morgan a thing or two about Olympians, then makes the kids help him clean the apartment. Being a demigod is a hard life.
Cast of Characters:	Alexander Aaron, Morgan Finn

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Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The keys to the door jangle in that third floor hallway, the heavy wooden door eventually surrendering to the twist in its lock and opens with a faint creak as the insides of Casa De Aaron is revealed with little to no fanfare. But at the least the recent resident, Alexander, stands there with his hand on the knob and steps back to allow Morgan to precede him on inside.
    "It's very Spartan," For a moment he half-smirks but says naught more on that before he adds. "And a few things to do that just takes grunt work. But figure after we get some pizza and can relax." That said he then strolls on in and tosses the keys into a vase that sits on the end table nearest the door and wanders in. Past the foyer, into the main living area, he gestures to the sides. "Voila, super exciting. This is where I sleep during my college career."
    Turning around to face the other Olympian, "Worst thing is that up in the attic-space some critters got inside and made a nest. I'll take care of that. The work out room," He motions down the hallway, "The heavy bag split open and there's some debris that could be picked up. I figure you can handle that? Takes some vacuuming and trash removal and whatnot. Cool?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan Finn walks in at Alexander's behest. He peers around the apartment with almost a reverence. He's a high school kid. This is a college apartment. "Yeah, sure," he says absently at the suggested work order. "Where do you keep your cleaning supplies?" he asks, turning to face Alexander. He's merely a demigod, but Alexander's the real deal. "I'll get started right away." There's definitely a subservience in his demeanor right now, different than how he was the other night at the embassy.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "In the closet," He gestures down the way, then starts strolling along toward it. It's that hallway with the three doors that he walks to, one of those being the closet that he opens and within is what looks to be a shopvac as well as a myriad of cleaning supplies. Some are still new and in the packaging while others clearly have been used though likely over a year and some ago.
    Also in the closet are an old beebee gun rifle, a stuffed Goofy doll, as well as a pink backpack that looks like it's seen better days. Knick-knacks or brickabracks assuredly though jarring considering the lack of any other bits throughout the house.
    "This is my room," He boots it open and inside it seems like it's a bit of a mess too with broken furniture and the like. Then he leaaaans to the other side and pushes the last door open which thumps against the wall when it swings. "The training hall." Which inside has that broken and sad looking heavy bag, some heavy padding on the floors, a fencing run, and a Shaolin wooden man that at the least seems reasonably intact.
    "But hey, man. We don't have to get right on it. There's time to chat. How are you handling things?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
The teen had already started in motion to the cleaning supply closet when Alexander opened it. He stops. "Oh, you mean like...how I'm handling school?" He comes from a line of healers and soothers, and his voice gets subdued at this turn of conversation. It's easy to see how Diana has her work cut out for her trying to turn this one into a warrior. Gentle eyes probe Alexander, trying to get a read on what he means.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Shifting his stance to the side, Alexander leans against the wall, hands in his pockets. There's a tilt of his head as he looks at the younger Olympian, hazel eyes resting heavily on the youth then he gives a single nod.
    "That, or anything else you might wanna talk about. Happy Harbor and all was pretty great in some ways for me." His eyes distance a little over Morgan's shoulder, then he looks back. "Or how you're dealing with facing the prospect of the whole family. Like I don't know what you've experienced to get to this point."

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan goes to the cleaning closet and gets a broom. He doesn't seem like he's ready to start the chores just yet, but maybe he needs some distraction with his hands. He sits down on something handy, maybe a dining room chair? "Happy Harbor is maybe the best my life has ever been," he says gently, shrugging a bit, at once seeking the connection that intimate conversation brings but also too inexperienced not to feel uncomfortable. "They came for me, two years ago. The League of Assassins. Diana saved me. My mother was killed in the attack." He shrugs again. "But even before that we were poor and lived in shitty neighborhoods." He smirks a bit. "Look, I ain't tryin' to give you a sob story, bro. I just don't know how much you want to know. Or if you're just making conversation."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A hand lifts as Alexander remains there, listening and watching with that calm manner of his. If Morgan is expressive and empathetic then the son of Ares... is a stoic in comparison. His gaze is calm and level, his attention unwavering. Perhaps not seeming the most charitable of audiences. But definitely the most intent.
    "I'll hear what you would like to relate, however you want to tell." A hand lifts to scritch at the back of his neck, "Or I can tell you what passed for me if that'll help you frame better."
    A small shrug is given. "Then again if you're not comfortable talking about it, that's fine too."

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan clears his throat gently. "I've found that people really don't want to hear. People have so many burdens that they don't have room for anyone else's. They're already carrying as much as they're able." Ever charitable, this one. Alexander's opposite. He whispers, "Sometimes the secrets stay locked inside not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear." He draws in a breath and looks up, a small, gentle smile returning to his face. "Did you always know? That you were an Olympian? Were you born into the life?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I'm naturally curious about you, Morgan." Alexander sliiides down the wall and settles into a seat at the base board, knees bent and up with his forearms resting on them. He's, once again, dressed pretty informally. Jeans, black t-shirt, white sneakers, and a grey hoodie that hangs loose on his frame.
    "You're the only other person I've met that has had something of a similar upbringing. Or living this sort of life in this era at this age." A small exhalation of breath is given, not quite a laugh.
    "As for me being born into the life? Nah. I was a mortal kid until I was about... ten. Though... my dad made sure I had a weird upbringing."

Morgan Finn has posed:
One corner of Morgan's mouth quirks a bit. "And now you're a god." It's weird to say out loud. "What made it weird?" he inquires, his head canting a bit to one side. "Are both of your parents gods?" He lets out a nervous laugh. "It just feels so good to be able to talk about this stuff."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A small chuff of a laugh then he shakes his head. He takes a deep breath, sobering a little then as he relates, "I never knew my mother, she passed when I was born."
    He bites his lower lip a little, worrying at it as he considers his answer. "My father said she was mortal. From Wisconsin." His lip twists a little. "But what made it weird, was my father."
    He scrunches up one eye as he ponders how to convey it. "See, there had been a war at one point. And the other gods called on him to save them. So he did. Then they treated him like shit. So he told them to go fuck themselves, he'd go live as a mortal. I was born, he tried to raise me as a mortal. But he's... still the God of War. So. I was breaking down guns when I was four, had something sharp in my hand as soon as I could hold it."

Morgan Finn has posed:
A reflexive smile crosses the teen's features. "Your four-year-old self could probably have kicked my ass right now," Morgan says. He reaches up and pushes his bangs out of his line of vision. They stubbornly shift right back a few moments later. "Diana and her warriors keep tryin' to train me to fight. I don't want to let her down, not ever. But I hate it so much, Alexander." He looks at the other with one part hopefulness and two parts shame.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Some people aren't made to fight, Morgan." Alexander curiously has a different opinion on the matter than Diana might well have. Clearly his father's son as his point of view is... intensely practical.
    "The graves are filled with middling swordsmen. Men who learn just enough to get themselves killed." A shake of his head is given, "If you intend to take another man's life, then you had best train with full intent to kill, and to battle to the best of your ability."
    But then he takes another deep breath, exhales it with a slight chuff. "Still. It also takes time. Give it a chance, and maybe you'll open another door for yourself."

Morgan Finn has posed:
"It's /very/ hard to kill me," Morgan murmurs, a mirthless half-grin on his face. "But you might be right. I mean, Diana says that I should learn to fight because the small harm can avoid the big harm."

After a few beats of silence as he runs his hand back through his hair, he lets out a small snort. "What a joke I must seem. You were raised by the God of War. You've been battling since you were a toddler." He wields the broomstick he's holding like a lightsaber. "Here, strike me down," he says, trying to deflect away the tension with humor. For a moment he's just a pup at play swinging a fake lightsaber around.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Nah, man. You have time, and really you don't have any obligation to learn how to fight. It's good to learn of course, but..." Alexander turns his head as if he's looking out through the wall toward the city itself and what lays around them. Then he looks back toward Morgan. "You can have a good life without. Just yah, I imagine you're gonna have enemies. And our family... they'll involve you in the Great Game, one way or another."
    As he says that he rolls over to to the side a little as he undoes the zipper to his hoodie, pulling it down then slipping one arm out... then the other. He doesn't seem inclined at the moment to engagein a lightsaber duel, though he does half-smile at the swinging.
    "Just our family has its share of people who have other people doing their fighting for them. And with your abilities, doubt anyone will wanna cack you since you're valuable."

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan slips from the chair to the floor, sitting cross-legged. For the moment, he places his mighty lightsaber next to him on the ground. He studies Alexander closely. He has that way of examining people, and even at his young age it can feel like he's seeing right into you. "What do you mean by the Great Game?" There's something about that phrase that instantly pulled the teen from his goofiness.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Ah man," Alexander uncurls a hand, palm upwards as if trying to summon the words to himsel. His brow furrows as he relates, "You ever wonder how like, our family has survived all these years? When a lot of other pantheons have died out, right?"

Morgan Finn has posed:
Morgan shakes his head. "No, I've never wondered that," he says with a little laugh. "Bro, seriously, I have /never/ talked about this stuff before with /anyone/. I mean, until I met you I barely even believed that I was descended from a god. I'm just a loser from the Kitchen who crossed paths somehow with Wonder frickin' Woman. And I sleep in her house and eat in her kitchen. I mean, what the actual /fuck/. When I read about Asclepius on Wikipedia, it says he's dead, and that Zeus killed him. But somehow he's my father? Why doesn't he visit or something?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A low chuckle comes from him as Alexander then realizes he may have to be more direct then. He nibbles at the corner of his lower lip again in brief thought then decides at the direct approach. "Ok, Great Game first. If you look around, not a /ton/ of gods running around. Well that's because over the years there have been clashes. Wars between them, but also within their own pantheons."
    He rests his hands on his knees and explains, "Our family used to be the same way. Wars over slights and insults and disrespect, smacking each other down, struggling to sabotage each other, kill each other. And it still happens. But the Great Game is sort of a thing that maybe Zeus came up with or maybe one of his brothers. Or heck it might just be a way my dad framed the whole thing for me. But it's the game that the elder gods play with each other to get one up with each other, instead of outright war."

Morgan Finn has posed:
There can be no doubt that Morgan listens intently as Alexander explains. He's sitting cross-legged on the floor. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, focused. "So like a counting coup kinda? Needle but don't destroy?" Kid wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's plain to see this explanation is unsatisfying to him. "Why can't they just get along? They're gods. Shouldn't they be wise and intelligent?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The older Olympian flares his hands as the answer to that last question escapes him. "When you meet them you'll find out. They're almost all jerks. Even the nice ones. It's... I think part and parcel of living so long, of having such a divorced point of view from the day to day of life. I don't know."
    He clears his throat and frowns, "Just know that when you meet them, they'll want to manipulate you, every action will have subtext, they give nothing for free."
    "Put it this way, a year and some ago, Hades and Dionysus had a feud. They clashed over a celebration, one felt it was an insult, the other felt it was an honor. They asked me to look into it since I was a neutral party. Main thing, however, was one wanted to be able to get an edge on me so they could use me in another task they had in mind. It's all... messy."

Morgan Finn has posed:
The kid reaches up and rubs his temples, simpering a little. "That sounds so exhausting. It's like...trust no one." Then realization dawns on his Morgan. He looks at Alexander intently. "Should I not trust you? Aren't you a god?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Another deep breath is taken and Alexander murmurs, "I like to think I'm different. Because I'm young, or I haven't given up my humanity yet or whatever. But shit man, probably the best advice I could give you is yeah, don't trust anyone."
    A glance is given to the side as he slides one leg forward and nudges at a piece of broken plaster from one of the walls. Then he turns his attention back, "It's feasible we might end up on opposite sides for some reason or another. I mean I don't intend to, but who knows what can happen? The Fates fuck with us just because they can."
    Then he smiles a little, "But, to be fair, you really can trust Diana. She's not one of us." A breath is taken, "She's better."

Morgan Finn has posed:
He's only a demigod, but his pedigree is of healing and empathy. To have him look at you -- really /look/ at you -- is a thing, like he looks at Alexander now. A warm smile crosses his face easily. "I choose to trust you, Alexander. If you fuck me over, well..." He shrugs one shoulder. "...that's the price of admission for choosing to trust, I suppose." He motions to Alexander with a flick of his chin. "I hope we can be friends."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The God of Fear, Son of War sighs a little, shaking his head as he murmurs. "Alright. Fuck it. Friends then." Even as he's pushing himself up along the wall to regain his feet.
    "Now get yer ass in gear and get ta work." That said he tosses a nod toward the training hall and sets to getting his own jobs taken care of as well.