InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "42"

Vincent (king_of_gods) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2010-09-17 16:27:00

Entry tags:

io, zeus

who: ~~The Glorious King of Olympus~~ Vince Vs. Evan ~~The Naiad Princess of Argos~~.
what: two bored greek myths repeat history, except let's hope with less sex in a public place, consequent transfiguration and bitching wives.
where: lobby and then pete's coffee.
when: let's say it's afternoon?
warnings: Vince.

do not, my child, spurn the bed of Zeus, but go forth to Lerna's meadow land of pastures deep and to your father's flocks and where his cattle feed, so that the eye of Zeus may find respite from its longing.

For a wealthy man it was surprising how irresponsible Vince could be about the evolution of his exceeding pillar of laundry. Oh, wait a minute... that's not so surprising. The Howard Hughes of Pax Letale, minus the piss and Hershey bars, had better things to do than laundry.

The Never-dying Champion of Elysium (in an unwittingly and mostly unaware mortal coil for a disguise.) would rather be playing video games, coming up with creative solutions to diplomatically talk down Sony's little brat son from wanting to bring in his talentless flock of gold-digging fame-wanters, or googling the precise-step ascension on the rickety ladder of politics he'd forgotten all the trivial avenues, leaks, and fine print of. More importantly, Honey wasn't allowed on his side of the penthouse and hardly minded the fact that she didn't need to deal with the towering ambition of his mighty messes. For you see, SUNDAY was spotless day. Cleaning day. Not Friday. And thus, with an Olympian arch to his divinely devilish brow, a hymn in his heart-of-coffee-loving-hearts, and a proud bounce to his black converse strut, he wore an immaculately contradictory suit to his well-weathered punk shoes.

Howard Hughes, indeed. Confidence a stain you can't wipe off.

And boy oh boy was he ever surprised, as he hopped out of the elevator and sauntered into the lobby saturated in the certainty a lion stalks his terrain with; as he contended for best white smile near the Nile, most gallant grin in Greece, heavy is the head that wears the crown, hello nurse... that he was having coffee with a pretty little maid. In his row.

"I hope you're Evan."

(Post a new comment)

the_wanderlust
2010-09-17 11:52 pm UTC (link)

This wasn't exactly where she saw her day heading. Earlier she'd been around junk sales advertised via craigslist, picking up a couple of lamps, a bedside table, and a futon to furnish her ridiculously sparse apartment. No bed yet, but she'd be happy to sleep on the futon with her sleeping bed until she found a good mattress deal. There were rules about getting mattress at junk piles (ie: don't do it) so yeah, she'd hold out a bit longer.

Still, to go from sifting through other people's discarded and forgotten crap to meeting up with a virtual stranger for coffee ... yeah, not exactly her average day. The moment the meeting place and time were set, she was off like a shot, changing out of her stained white Hanes t-shirt into ... well, a clean white Hanes t-shirt. A decided improvement from the dirty, sweaty one. See? She knew how to dress appropriately.

Pulling the bottom of her jean legs from her slip-on sneakers, Evan was out the door, pulling an olive-colored messenger bag over her shoulder as she half-jogged. Oh, she'd slow down before she hit the lobby, mussing her hair just a bit, slapping on a layer of cherry chapstick. Really, she had no concept of this sort of stuff.

It wasn't long after she'd wandered into the lobby looked as fresh as a daisy, that a gentleman who didn't look that much older came out of the elevator. A suit? Was she missing something? Clutching the strap of her messenger bag as he made his way to her, she offered a smile that seemed just a touch shy. "That's me. Uhm ... Pete's isn't a nice place, right?" A suit was a suit, despite the shoes you wore with it. "Because I could go change." Feeling a little out of her league? Maybe. Just a little, tiny bit.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

king_of_gods
2010-09-18 12:44 am UTC (link)

His lips on satire autopilot, Sherlock deduced the best approach to this sweet little pale situation with her cute pixie hair and modest mouth, was to let her have his humor instead of withholding it from her discreet graces. Thus, the warrior let loose without skipping a beat of his big fat heart: "Yes, Pete's is kind of... how can I put this, ostentatious." a wishbone of index and thumb banded his chin, tap-tap. "You might want to change, unless of course, you can tell I'm totally lying by the look in my eye. " he widened the bright blue chasms of them. "Or read my tarot cards before I came downstairs to meet you and the hanged man came up like, heeey, he only does laundry Sundays. Look at me, I'm hanging here."

Satisfied with himself (obviously.) he swallowed back the familiar, glittery taste in the air and the also, surprising familiarity he felt gnawing the grass in the pastures of his only occasionally intuitive mind. The leader in all things but laundering, he initiated the first steps toward the exit preferring to shake hands once they received their coffee. Why? Because he might be unable to stop himself from pulling her into a closet. That's why.

"P.S., you look just dandy." the crackle of lightning said to the mystery of water flowers, as he opened the door for her to make their way out into the open.