Owner	Pose
Iason	There are many strange things in New York- there is a tall building where a man who is on fire but never burns jokes around with a man made of living rock, get scolded by a woman no-one ever sees and are often ignored by the oblivious scientist who never needs a ladder. There are martial-artist terrapins underground, and against all possible odds CATS ran for eighteen years on Broadway. Things unusual and hard to explain. So it shouldn't be much of a surprise that the Embassy belonging to a race of immortal warrior-women from Greek antiquity just happens to have a man working in it- scratch that, a statue of a man. "Princess Diana," Iason says, his English still heavily accented, but far improved over the last ten months, "There is a request from the-" a glance down at the paper in his hands, sounding out the words for a moment before proceeding, "-spectrographic- yes," he pauses briefly to trace the etimology of the words. Greek and Latin meshed together, what strange people- "From the department of archaeology. At the university." He offers the paper to Diana as he intercepts her in the reception area. It had been deemed that the best way to get Iason adequated to the modern world was to put him in a position where he could have gradual access to it, while also being surrounded by relative safety. He had started with internal errands at the cultural Centre. Now that he was becoming adequately literate, he was now a correspondence courier. The young man was quietly proud of the progress he has made, no longer going into the hibernation periods that accompanied periods of depression. His skin almost looks completely human, just a slight trace of its bronze nature.
Diana Prince	Diana had been out all afternoon meeting with some friends. She is returning now and speaking to the receptionist when Iason approaches. Wearing a black jacket over a white top with a white scarf around her neck, Diana looks over to him and then to the offered paper. "Is that so?" She asks as she takes it and roams her eyes over it. "Well this sounds intriguing." She says then as she looks back to Iason. A smile crosses her darkly red hued lips as she regards him. "Did they give any other details?" She asks before reaching a hand up to pull her scarf from her neck...
Jonathan Sims	It's pure chance that has Jonathan Sims come by the Themysciran Embassy today. He stayed on the subway five stops too long, engrossed in reading an article about sea turtles. He barely paid attention on his way out of the subway, and by the time he looked up from his phone he was standing in front of the three-storey building on the Upper East Side, blinking at it. Well then.     There's a feeling he's starting to recognize, a gentle pull of 'go here, it's important,' and he's willing to bet that's part of what kept him so enraputed by /sea turtles/ of all things that he didn't even notice he took the wrong stop. So, hesitantly, he walks on up and through the door and into the reception area, shifting the green cardigan he's wearing a bit nervously. There's something to be said for the oddity of being a man walking into the embassy of an island of immortal warrior-women, mostly a sense of not /quite/ belonging, though he's used to that enough to just kind of... linger at first, looking around as if trying to figure out what brought him here.
Iason	Iason frowns as he recalls the correct words for a second, and says, "They believe... they may have located an early settlement with tass? Ties to Themyscira. They would appreciate... if someone could attend. And see their evidence." Knowing he is missing something, he stops, and then adds, "And that it not be your sister. If possible." It is not that Troia's input isn't welcomed, but it is that some professors with Certain Ideas have egoes that are a little too easily bruised when lectured by a member of a previously-considered fictitious civilization. Especially when she has been seen on record punching grown men through walls. Admittedly, they were all super-villains who could take it, but- He notices Jonathan stepping into the Embassy and trails off, glancing at the newcomer. Although Iason has plenty of modern clothes to wear, oftentimes he defaults to his own clothing, making him look like he stepped out of a reenactment. Which, come to think of it, is rather suitable for the location. "H-hello!" he says, taking on the role of impromptu receptionist. He has been encouraged to socialize more, after all.
Diana Prince	Diana pulls the white scarf off from around her neck and then begins to wrap it up around her wrist. She listens to Iason's response, the bit about Donna making the Princess show a knowing smile. She's well aware of the reasoning behind that. "Well.. that only makes me want to send Troia even more..." Diana says as her eyes drop back down to the paper once more. She raises them up then as the man steps in to the embassy and a soft smile shows on her lips toward him, a glance is given to Iason when he speaks up and then she looks back to the man. "Yes, welcome to the Themysciran Embassy. How might we assist you?" She inquires, also playing the part of Embassy receptionist.
Jonathan Sims	"I..." Jon hesitates, and then chuckles. "I'm honestly not sure. Would you believe me if I said I was drawn here?" He shakes his head, straightens himself a bit. He can look presentable when need be.     "Ah. Apologies. I am Jonathan Sims, the Archivist." It slips out before he can take it back; he actually looks briefly chagrined. But then, as if resigned, he goes on, "I am, among other things, a servant of the god Thoth. I... suppose we did have ties to Greece, once upon a time." He glances around the room for a moment, before focusing back on Iason and Diana both. Something about the living statue keeps drawing his eye, but he's trying not to stare. That's rude.
Iason	The young man's brow wrinkles for a second, and he looks to Diana, as he often does when there is a particular idiomatic expression that has given him trouble. "This man says that someone drew him here. Is this a form of Chaldean magic?"
Diana Prince	Diana exchanges a look with Iason after Jon expresses his reason for being here. But soon her eyes are going back to him and she's smiling more openly toward him. "I wish I could say that was the first time someone has used that reason for coming here..." She jokes, probably. Another look is given to Iason at his question but she doesn't react to it verbally. Instead she raises her right hand up and walks toward Jon. "I am Diana, Prince. Princess of Themyscira and this is my home. Generally we are only able to see visitors by appointment however, but... if you would like, we might be able to find a moment to talk together. I do have an appointment here soon though, but..." Diana looks to Iason. "My assistant, Iason, could show you around the grounds in the mean time?" The Princess offers to their new arrival.
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at Iason. "Chaldean...?" He tilts his head, confused, then shakes it rapidly. He focuses on the Princess, nodding respectfully. "Oh, of course, I would hardly expect you to take your time for me when I showed up out of the blue." He turns to look at Iason. "I'm sure your assistant can--"     It's almost as if something steps in an hijacks Jon's thought process. Mid-sentence, he stops, eyes widening a bit. His posture changes, straightens, his voice pitches higher. "The Serapeum is destroyed. All our work, centuries and centuries, my ancestors' legacy, gone. Hypatia tells me to flee, to go to the north. The land of the invaders. A cruel thing, but Serapis has released the Archivists from his service and Thoth has told me our line's desinty lies in the lands of the invaders, so north I travel. I stop in the courtyard, spying Hypatia. I want to speak to her, to say goodbye, but she's speaking to the statue her father created. Telling it to avenge her, to continue her work. I feel the power of a god stirring, though nothing happens in the moment. And I remember that so long as a name is spoken, that soul will live on. I vow the world will never forget Hypatia, nor Alexandria. That a thousand thousand years from now, people will rage against the injustice done to this holy seat of learning."     Then Jon blinks and shakes himself, staring at Iason. "I..."
Iason	For several long seconds, one might be forgiven for thinking that Iason has reverted to type and become a statue once more, he is so still. Then, he is stirred back to life by a gasp, and he finds himself striding towards the stranger, his boots stomping on the ground as he reaches Jonathan in record speed, his hands shoot out to grab the man by the shoulders- not to shake him or punch him through the wall (who do you think he is, Donna?), but to look at him with a piercing stare. "You! How do you know these-- did you- did you know my sister? Speak! You were there on that night?" there is intense emotion on his face, a deep pain at the mention of Hypatia.
Diana Prince	Needless to say the situation happening here before the Princess has her tilting her head. She listens to Jon's words, she turns to watch Iason's reaction and it causes her to step toward them both. Since they're not all alone in here either, Greta Candy-- the actual receptionist --stands up from behind her desk to observe too. "Miss?" She asks of Diana who doesn't respond. "What precisely is this all about?" Diana asks Jon in particular.
Jonathan Sims	Jon gapes at Iason as he's grabbed by the shoulders. The statue-man is shorter than him by a good six inches but by the way he shrinks back it may as well be the other way around. "I... ahh... I don't..." A pause; his own brain is working. "It must have been an ancestor of mine. The Archivists go back to pre-dynastic Egypt, but we got the title at the Serapeum of Alexandria. One of my ancestors must have known your sister, and seen... whatever that was."     He glances aside to Diana. "I... hold the knowledge and memories of all of those Archivists, going back five thousand years. It... comes to me as it will. Such as now." He nods to Iason.
Iason	"Archivists-" Iason drops his hands. It was never a threatening gesture, more of a desperate one. "- I never heard. Perhaps once-" he spends a few seconds in thought, and then he shakes his head. "Some things I don't recall. The time before there was /nous/- I don't recall much." Glancing at Diana, he says, "I am sorry, Princess. He mentioned my sister and for a moment I thought he might have known her. That he could have... told me more of her." A quiet sigh, he glances back at the man. "The Archivists. Of Thot?"
Diana Prince	Diana's eyes are on the young man, but she sweeps them over to Iason, a look of concern upon her face. "Well. Maybe it is the two of you who have some talking to do..." She responds as she looks back to Greta and walks back toward her desk in the sitting area off of the main foyer. "Greta. Could you please let Adra and Gala know that we have a visitor on property with Iason?" She asks, getting an understanding nod as the receptionist sits back down to do just so, but she pauses to tell Diana her appointment is waiting in her office. This gets the Princess to nod softly as she looks back to Iason and Jon. "Iason." Diana says softly. "Why don't you take our guest here on a walk through the courtyard? A tour, of sorts?" She asks as she starts toward the main hall herself. "I will be just within my office for a little bit, Mister Simms, if you would like to talk after. Otherwise, please enjoy our hospitality." Adrastea and Galatea will not be too far away no matter where Iason may lead Jon now! Amazon escort!
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods respectfully to Diana as she leaves, vaguely irritated at himself for not managing to be... polite to the Princess of a foreign nation. Ugh. But it's not worth dwelling on; he focuses on Iason and says, "Why don't we talk while we walk? You can tell me of yourself, and I can try to explain... there may be more memories of Hypatia in the Archive, it's merely a matter of... recovering them. A worthwhile endeavor, however."     He smiles; he's been jumpy of late, but recognizes finally that Iason was never really threatening him. "You were Hypatia's brother? I... did not know she had siblings, but there could be gaps in the historical record."
Iason	Iason nods and gestures to lead the Archivist out into the gardens, where the autumn breeze brings a welcome, refreshing chill that is still on the pleasant side. Though he is wearing considerably less than most, the weather doesn't seem to bring him any discomfort. "That is because I was never born," he says to Jonathan, hands clasped behind his back as they tread across the beautiful grounds. "I was the brother that never grew with her, and she was the sister I could not know. I always felt her, when I was in slumber. I could hear her speak to others- students. I remember many things, but it is all as if in shadows." He stops by the side of a tree whose leaves have turned a deep amber color. As the wind shakes the tree tops, they fall around the two men in bright yellow flutters. "But I always did feel in me the love of a brother for her. I think that, before Dike breathed life and purpose into me, blessed Aphrodite gave me awareness to love my sister and my father. Perhaps she took pity on father. Or perhaps it is merely my imagination," he shrugs. "I only saw my sister, once, with my own eyes. When she pleaded to be avenged- my eyes opened as she was fleeing into the night. And the sound of many people echoed behind her." He goes silent, for some time. "And then I saw her no more."
Jonathan Sims	Jon frowns at Iason for a long moment. "I know Hypatia's story. Her career, her death at the hands of a mob." He sighs. "I... am sorry for your loss, however long ago it was." He considers the man, letting himself see Iason's mind and frowning more deeply at what he sees.     "You were the statue... but the gods breathed life into you at her request. The goddess Dike? Justice, and particularly human justice, yes?" He doesn't know Greek as well as Egyptian. "Daughter of Zeus and Themis?
Iason	Iason nods slowly. "The justice of man, to men. I meted it." His voice is low, almost a rumble as he remembers. "And yet she was no more then. I do not know why Dike did not withdraw her gift from me once the task was done, but still I remained. I had no more to do- nowhere to go, and I fell into a deep slumber." He glances across the grounds, back at the Embassy. "I slept long, and I ended up in this city. The Princess tells me that I was rescued from a ship wreck and placed in a museion. I awoke when her sister, the princess Troia, spoke my sister's name." He glances back at the Archivist. "I remember the stories she would tell. I wish I could have known her more. She once spoke of Themyscira, of the land of the Amazons. It wasn't until I awoke here that I found out from Princess Troia that my sister visited Themyscira." He looks wistful. Sad. "She speaks of one who still lives there, who knew her. But she cannot talk to me- they live in an island far from here. And men may not pass there."
Jonathan Sims	"Well... I would say clearly the goddess had more use for you. Perhaps... in the here and now. There is much need for justice in the world today." It's a testament to how /weird/ Jon's life has been lately that speaking to a living statue barely fazes him. But, then, he seems /human/ to Jon's mystical senses, in a way that, say, the robot he sometimes works with does not.     Jon tugs his cardigan around him against the chill. He needs to just admit it's very nearlyt winter and pull out his heavy coat. "And you live here, now, at the Themysciran Embassy? It was kind of them to let you, when you're not technically one of theirs."
Iason	Iason's eyes remain on the Embassy. "... I do not know Dike's plans. The Princesses feel responsible for my waking, and I do not know their world. So I stay with them and I learn. The language is strange, but I can speak it more now. But what is past these walls is stranger than the language. I do not know what justice looks like in this world, much less how to put it to practice. The Princess seems to know." He glances back at Jon, "She always seems to know."
Jonathan Sims	Jon sighs. "Justice... is a difficult concept. Most people think it's retribution, vengeance. I... don't know. Vengeance doesn't heal the injured or bring back the dead."     He looks up at the tree. "I... could point you to modern law, to concepts like reformative justice, but I suspect the Princess would do better than I, and already has." He hesitates a moment. "As the Archivist, I must follow the principles of /ma'at/--the goddess, but also the concept in general. To be benevolent and kind, to take care of your people, to be honest and fair, to seek balance and live within the natural order."     He gestures at the tree. "There is a natural rhythm to life. In this part of the world, in autumn the leaves fall from the trees. Rivers flow toward the sea. I would, /myself/, see injustice as a dam on the river, or a diversion in its flow. Justice would be that which restores the natural order." A pause. "Mortal justice... that which restores harmony and balance in society. If someone has been wronged, that wrong being righted and their heart brought to peace. If someone has done wrong, either giving apology and recompense, or being removed if they refuse to change and grow."
Iason	"I . . . don't know enough," Iason says, after remaining quiet for a few seconds. "Not enough to answer that. My sister might have. But I have much to learn. Too much, it feels." He hesitates, and then nods, "Come, I can show you the rooftop garden. It is where they hold events and celebrations."
Jonathan Sims	Jon follows along and says, "I came here today for a reason. I..." He fishes in his trousers pocket, pulls out his wallet. He pulls a card out of the wallet, then pulls a pen out of the pocket of his cardigan and writes a number on the back with a name--Midnight Mission, Mr. Knight. He offers the card to Iason.     "You may have to have the receptionist help you, but the front of that is my office, and my phone number. The back is the number and location of a man I know with deep ties to Egypt. You might need help getting directions." He smiles. "But I wanted to make sure you had this before I forgot. Perhaps it is time you got out into the world. It's not my place to say so, of course, but... well. The Princess may know better than I."
Iason	Iason stares at the card for a few seconds, his proficiency with the written word much better than it had been, but it still requires some deliberate effort. It is just as well, since he has to absorb what Jon is saying, and he briefly wonders if this is Dike's way to show him his purpose. "I think I will do this," he says quietly. His outfit does not have pockets, so he holds on to the card for the rest of the tour. But it does help make his decision tangible to himself, which is perhaps what he needs the most right now. "Thank you."