Philosophy 101

May 29, 2015:

Two descendants of gods talk about what that all means

Hell's Kitchen, NYC


NPCs: Harpies


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Just on the edge of Hell's Kitchen, so close to the border of Mutant Town, the city is this roiling and boiling melting pot of diverse individuals and economics. So close to what passes for the mutant ghetto, the other denizens in the old run down district find themselves between what they feel is a rock and a hard place. There are the gangs on one side of them, and then the strangeness of mutation on the other. Most people would fall in upon each other, the neighborhood would die or become terribly isolated. But not the primarily Hungarian immigrants who lived here for some sixty years.

Even so late at night as tonight, the streets are fairly active. Cars roll up and down, citizens walk the sidewalks, and there are even a few older restaurants proclaiming authentic cultural cuisine still selling at such a time. It's a place where even if one is a little bit strange… they can walk down the street without fear of reprisal.

Alexander Aaron is one such individual. Those faintly glowing red eyes of his often drawing a glance from the refined crowd. It's amongst mutantkind that he's not given a look, not considered a curious phenomenon despite his otherwise beatific features. So he has a certain fondness for the area. A fondness that he sought to protect at the first sign of his aunt's displeasure.

At first it was a flicker of light, a silhouette against the night's sky. Then it was the whisper of the Fates in his ear as Clotho laughed mockingly about what was in store for him… and that's when the Harpies came.

Winged and enraged women, tall and with feathered manes all swirled around the rooftop that the young deity had fled to. It was out of the way, away from the citizens, safe for them. Not so for him. Heavy two-handed blades were wielded in the dark talons of the women as they flapped above the young Olympian, they would make diving charges rushing past in a blur. For the moment it seemed a stalemate, save that one of those Harpies had already fallen, the body lying silent upon the tar paper.

Another silhouette somersaults through the air. The glint of blades through the air and another of the harpies has fallen to the rooftop, its wings severed and dark ichor pumping out of the stumps. The attacker lands on the roof behind the body, her cloak spreading out to either side of her as she crouches in place. Slowly her hooded face turns up to look at the monstrosities of another age…and religion. "You will leave this place at once" she informs them in a serious monotone. "And you shall leave this man alone" she adds, her eyes falling on the strange figure with his red eyes…another demon?

Slowly the Magdalena stands, a sword of flames in her right hand and a shorter sword in the other. "I have not killed your friend…" And true enough the wingless harpy is still bucking and writhing in front of her, "…and I will not do you any more harm if you depart now." She is wary, as you would be, watching for the slightest hint of an attack.

The wings of the remaining trio of Harpies continue to flap in the air, holding them aloft as they turn green and sickly eyes upon the woman's arrival. Their voices lift almost in unison as words are shared almost equally between them in those gravelly tones,
// Stand Not. Stand. Not. Between us. Us. and Prey. The Prey. Lest You Become Prey! //

Their great and jagged blades swing around smoothly as the last three try to bracket the duo. The maimed yet living harpy upon the ground howls angrily as it crawls slowly towards Magdalena, trying to reach her ankle, her leg, to rend and tear with her talons but almost pathetically slow and oozing ichor.

Turning to the side, Alexander brings his own red-bladed katana up, drawn back beside his head and held ready. His eyes narrow, the crimson gleam glowing against the night's sky like twin embers. To the side he murmurs, "You are not a god, are you?" He asks almost casually as he shifts stance, foot sliding upon the rooftop as he follows the movements of the two that face off against him. "If so, mind the blades… blood of the hind."

He barely has enough time to get the last word out before the harpies dart forward, their charge not signalled but accompanied by a raucous screech.

"I am not a God" Magdalena answers as she takes a defensive step back. "There is only one and the position is taken" she adds with a faint smile before there is a disappointed sigh at the reaction of the harpies. At least she offered them peace so what happens is not completely her fault. Thankfully bladed combat is right up her alley.

Magdalena parries the blow of a swooping harpy before stepping around her flightpath, spinning her fiery sword downwards and driving it into the skull of the crawling harpy. She says a quick prayer over its body before she moves back to a defensive posture.

"Why are you hunting him?" Magdalena asks amidst the clash of blades and the whoosh of swooping winged creatures. Most of her 'strikes' are parries. She has no desire to hurt anything if she can avoid it…but will strike decisively if need be.

There's a clash of blades behind her, then a short sharp /KA-TING!/ sound as a split blade goes flying, one of the swords sliced cleanly in twain. There's a ragged shout as the young deity steps forward and the tip of his own sword finds home, slicing through the harpy's chest and leaving it to fall with a heavy /fwumpf/, its own blood mixing that with its sister.

Those two remaining harpies are enraged. How dare this creature interfere with their hunt, how dare it take the lives of their sisters! The largest one, an almost emerald colored creature with brilliant plumage rises high on the steady flapping buffet of its wings. It remains out of range of their blades as it _howls_, giving its words to them as both testament to its fallen and indictment of the young bladesman.

// You protect! You protect! Child of WAR! God of FEAR! Do you not KNOW!? // The Harpy whirls around quickly, as if feigning another charge before it flashes its beak wide, worm-like tongue hurling vitriolic words as it snaps. // Ignorant _stupid_ mortal! Curse on thee! A curse! //

But then there are no more words, as suddenly the two remaining harpies _slash_ their wings forwards and hurl hundreds of small bladed feathers towards them.

There is the sound of metal ringing on metal as Alexander takes a step forward quickly to use the great blade Grass-Cutter to try and shield both himself and her.

"Then explain! I will listen!" Magdalena yells back at the Harpy before the air is suddenly filled with death dealing blades. She crouches down, curling her armoured cloak around her and praying for the protection of her God…and the ability of those who made the cloak. Whatever feathers are not stopped by Phobos' fancy blade work thud into the cloak. Magdalena can feel each of them hitting her cloak…and some penetrate. A wince as her bare arm is cut…and then another across her stomach.

Still she prays. No anger in her, just patience. For once the deluge stops she returns the favour. The cloak is flung back and crucifix shaped throwing knives are hurled with unerring accuracy back at the monsters.

It was a diversionary tactic, just enough to try and buy them some time to lock their enemies down and for them to round and try to flap away. But not before there's that flicker of steel and the flash of a blade that strikes cleanly into the shoulder of one of the creatures. Its wing goes suddenly limp, sending it into a swirling fall crashing down… down… towards the ground. It crashes heavily into the side of a building and then begins to slide downwards.

There's an abrupt flash of light as the remaining surviving Harpy flickers out of existence, then several more as the corpses and ichor all seem to suddenly be infested with writhing maggots of flame that criss-cross rapidly over the forms. Each one begins to catch fire, bursting into flame and consuming itself leaving only the weapons as evidence of the attack.

Alexander looks after the retreating creature, frowning to himself, his own eyes glowing with a similar flame. He glances back towards Magdalena, gaze narrowing for a moment as he steps away from her and sits down upon the small three foot wall that surrounds the rooftop.

Slowly, gingerly, he begins to pick out the blades from each place they struck. Several in his arms, his chest, a few in his legs, one apparently having sliced across his cheek leaving a vicious gash that trickles a slow rivulet of blood.

Across the way he looks at her and then murmurs in a calm and level voice, "You enjoy my thanks for your assistance."

"I would rather an explanation" Magdalena replies to Alexander as she starts picking up and inspecting the strange weapons. "Harpies?" she asks for confirmation. "They are usually only unleashed against those who have done wrong. Have you done wrong?" She walks slowly over to his spot on the wall, checking her own wounds as she does so before stopping a few feet away. "I am the Magdalena" she states by way of introduction…even a little bow in there. "Would you care for some bandages?"

Using one of the recently plucked feather blades he touches the center of his chest as he indicates himself and says, "Alexander. Alexander Aaron. Or Phobos if you like." He then tosses it aside with a small metallic clink, wincing only a little bit.

At the offer of aid from her he holds up a hand as if to stay her, then waves it aside to dismiss the offer. Though he adds a few words, "I'll be fine in a few minutes, but thank you again. You are kind." He goes about removing the small blades, his clothes most likely ruined… well unless he knows a gifted seamstress.

But then he answers what is, to him at least, her more important question. "I have done much wrong. Though if you mean why were those seeking me out for some form of punishment…" Alexander looks across the way at her, eyes still glowing against the night. "I spurned an offer from Athena, she wished to impart some measure of wisdom I imagine."

Magdalena watches the strange, if handsome, man and his casual refusal of aid and disposal of weapons. "I suppose you mean /the/ Athena" she sighs. Poor delusional souls who think they are gods. "Phobos? Son of Ares? Does that not make Athena your aunt?" Those Greek 'gods' are an incestuous lot." A pause before she asks, "Do you intend to walk home in that state?" He means his clothes.

Those eyes hood as he looks down and she can see an almost lupine half-smile touch those classic features. He is handsome, there is that sort of perfection of form akin to something carved by a renaissance sculptor out of marble. Pale skin, crimson eyes, that shock of blonde hair, it's definitely something out of the ordinary. But it's that smile that in some ways might seem almost filled with malice. It's when he looks up, however, and meets her gaze that the curious dichotomy might become evident. For in his smile there's an almost amusement, like the twenty-something that he is.

"Yes, I mean _the_ Athena. And yes, she's my… well half-aunt I suppose you'd say." He plucks the last of the blades and tosses it aside. If someone comes up here and examines this as a crime scene… well it'll keep the cops busy for a few days at least. "And yes, dad is Ares. Was a blast at birthday parties."

He pushes himself off the wall and gains his feet, wincing just a touch. Yet she might see that that cut upon his cheek is already slowly closing itself, the blood remaining but the injury leaving barely a trace. "You said you're The Magdalena?" He tilts his head to the side, looking her over. "What is the meaning of your title?"

"I am a direct descendant of Jesus Christ and Maria Magdalena and due to my bloodline I am honoured with defending humanity against the armies of Hell…and other places" Magdalena explains in a factual manner. There is no pride in her voice, since that is a sin, but just a simple explanation. "I patrol the night to ensure that people can sleep well and wake in the morning…without discovering that Hell has risen in the meantime." She looks out over the huge city. "New York is my current location…obviously…but I will go where God wills it."
Magdalena studies the healing man before asking. "May I ask why you are in this world?" It's not as if there aren't superheroes on every street corner but this child of Ares may have a reason for being here that she may find interesting.

As she speaks Alexander watches her with those smoldering eyes, listening in calm as she delivers those words to him. And to his credit he seems to accept them in the sincerity they're offered. There's no glimmer of amusement or disdain, there's simply acceptance. He gives a small nod as she declares New York is her territory.

He starts to step past her, reaching down for the sheath to his blade that he had discarded when the conflict had started. With a light 'click' he sheathes Grass-Cutter and slings the weapon over his shoulder. Yet when she asks that last question, he can't fight off the smile and responds at first with an attempt at humor.

"Well when you see a mommy and daddy love each other very much…" He breaks it off then, perhaps influenced by the expression on her features, or perhaps out of some hint of wisdom. He holds up a hand to stay any protest and instead says quietly. "Twenty some years ago, my father left Olympus. He tried to live a normal life. He fell in love…" He opens his hands as if to say that explains it all.

But then he leans forwards a touch as if trying to eye her from a different angle. "So what powers does the blood of Jesus give you?"

Magdalena does quirk an eyebrow slightly at the start of his story about why he was here. Thankfully he didn't go back as far as the Creation to explain himself. "And where is your father now?" If her research has taught her anything it is that Greek gods seldom hang around in one place very long. She did mean something a bit more specific than this being his birthplace but that does tell her what she needs to know. This is his home.

"The /blessings/ it confers upon me" Magdalena replies, "are myriad and diverse. And as long as I serve Him with courage and justice then I will be able to continue to use them for His work." She stays silent for a moment before adding, "You do not think I will give away /all/ His secrets, do you?" she teases lightly…and there is even a smile!

At her correction of his choice of the word 'powers' gets him to smile again all the more, even as the rest of his wounds seem to be closing up. Though that does leave all those ragged cuts and slices in his jeans and 'Olympus Athletic League' t-shirt. His lips part in an 'ah' of understanding as he nods, listening to her. And then she smiles and for that instant he's completely charmed. This blade-wielding whirlwind of death just made a joke. Darling.

He slides his hands into the ragged pockets of his hoodie and tilts his head the other way as he watches her, then replies. "Oh no, perish the thought. Whatever would we talk about should we meet again? You must save some secrets for later." He then straightens up slightly and answers her former question, "He's back on Olympus. Another pantheon was attacking the… you know what? Nevermind, it's all just kinda goofy."

He cocks his head the other way, like some curious golden retriever as he asks, "So my existence doesn't sort of offend you, or bug you?"

"Why would you offend me?" Magdalena replies with a shrug. "It takes all kinds in His universe. Some he has created more powerful than others. What they do with that power is what would 'offend'." A faint smile. "And it is not /I/ that you would offend. I am merely a vessel for His will. Bug?" A shake of her head. "I do not think that you would 'bug' me either." Her accent, if anything, is Italian though she probably looks more South American than anything else. And 'slang' like 'bug' is probably not heard a lot in the training rooms beneath the Vatican.

Magdalena considers him a moment before making a realisation. "Oh…you think that I will automatically destroy all false gods or something like that? No, Alexander, that would not serve His purpose well. If you are pure of heart and purpose then I will have no problem with you and you shall have no problem with me. My ancestor preached love and forgiveness." She glances at all the weapons she wears. "This is a last resort."

"No, I don't think you'd be able to destroy us," Alexander looks at the… well rather daunting arsenal that she manages to tote, then he looks back up into her eyes. "I am rather confident in my ability to run away from you should the need arise." His lip twitches, amusement still visible as that smile reaches the corners of his eyes.

"But I was more thinking…" He steps to the side and his gaze lifts upwards, shifting subtly to the right as if he were searching for the exact proper words. He drops back down to sit on the wall of that rooftop facing her, the street and cars far below visible. "Well, my grandfather told me the story of Gaea and Erebus. How the Gods arose from the fall of the Titans and all. But I imagine your faith encapsulates that as simply a progression of creation, that it was your God that did the creation. Taking the role of Gaea in essence."

He seems to still be puzzling it out in his head as he gives some thought to it. Hm.

"We all have stories, Alexander" Magdalena shrugs. "Each faith has its own idea for how the world began…though not many have a story for how the whole universe began. They are the stories that suited each culture for its own needs. Some are able to assimilate other stories into their own. For example, your creation myth is easily absorbed into mine but mine is not so easily absorbed into yours." She too is searching for the right words in what is probably her fourth language. "The stories seek to describe the Truth but no one but God has the words to do it properly. If you wish to believe one thing then so be it. It is what you /do/ that counts, and the different tales are only ways to instill values. Now, if you had a creation myth that required the sacrifice of virgins and you gleefully did that on the street every day, then you would…bug…me."

"Oh, well. No. Not 'virgins' per se." For a moment he keeps the straight face, but he takes a breath and hmms to himself. "I had always imagined if I ran into someone so devout that I would be a target for their ire." He scritches the side of his chin with a fingertip, then notices some flakes of his own blood falling free. He moistens the back of his hand with his tongue and then wipes at his cheek absently.

"But I'd be curious to hear your thoughts. I've had words with some acquaintances and they were attempting to explain the existence of those like myself and my family. They stated that when a species attains some level of self-awareness that the considerable belief or mental…" He stops there, struggling with the right word. "Unity or community? That it would manifest as those of us created to be representations of concepts that were prominent in the lives of humanity at the time."

He crosses a leg over his knee and considers her, "Given that possibility, do you feel it would be possible that Jesus manifested in a similar way? And if so what would be the impetus for such? I know it's conjecture but I'm curious."

"I do not believe that is what occurred with Jesus or your family" Magdalena replies simply. "You were conjured by the will of humanity? That sounds like atheist dogma and certainly does not explain your very physical form and undoubted longevity. No offence but people have stopped believing in the Hellenic pantheon some time ago yet you are still here. That shows it is not belief that keeps you here but flesh and blood. Just like anyone else."

"Christ was born of flesh and blood from a human woman and he moved through mankind to help it find its way. When his task was done, he returned to God. He did not need belief to give birth to him." A light tap of her own arm. "His blood flows in my veins. Am I only here because of belief?" A wry smile. "I am not Tinkerbell."

"Perhaps not sustained belief but…" It's clear Alexander has been thinking about this rather often of late, turning his thoughts inward and considering what he finds. He hmms quietly to himself and then opens his hands, "At some point I plan to steal a spaceship and find some aliens, then question their gods. I'll let you know what I find."

He regains his feet, standing smoothly and she can probably see that… all of those injuries are gone by now. He's still dressed raggedly and might get a few odd looks on his way home, but that's no nevermind to him. "I'm hungry." He starts to step past her but then pauses to meet her eyes, "Are you hungry? I know a place that has decent pizza and won't bat an eye at either one of us. You in?" He asks her that terribly easily, as if already having decided she's okay. Sure she believes in something completely different than his own… well somewhat undecided beliefs. And sure she's carrying more hardware than even his father does on a good day. But something about her is somewhat… disarming.

"I already know what the aliens will say" Magdalena smiles sweetly before pointing upwards. "/He/ created them." And then she is being offered food by the son of a Greek god. Well…stranger things have happened. She will think of what that was one day. "They will not mind me dressed like this?" she asks, unconvinced that will be the case. She peers out over the city again and then up at the dark sky. "I will meet you there in twenty minutes. What is the address?"

"They wouldn't if you were with me, they once had this problem with…" He starts to relate to her the tale of the Pizza Shop and the Puck, but instead decides to curtail and say. "Nevermind. They'd be ok with you, but you might be a little more comfortable without all the cutlery."

Having said that he unslings the katana from his shoulder and focuses his gaze on it, concentrating for a time. After a few seconds the blade fades from view out of existence. He looks back to her, "It's just down the street." He points down the road and then turns to meet her gaze, "Corner of 12th and 123rd." He waits for some measure of agreement from her, then smiles.

"Seeya there."

And with that he plants a hand on the side of the building and _vaults_ over the side, dropping onto the fire escape, then making a few more leaps to land lightly on his feet. He starts to make his way towards the pizza joint, leaving her there to her thoughts.

Magdalena doesn't have time for thoughts…she has to get changed! She moves quickly, leaping from building to building and showing what a human at peak physical fitness can achieve. And she is also very good at keeping appointments. Twenty minutes on the dot and she arrives at the pizza place in neat casual. She doesn't wear a mask in her 'day' job so she is recognisable when she steps inside and peers around for the son of Ares.

Inside the pizza place it's your typical endeavour at serving up the delicious greasy treat. It's a small place with a sign that says simply, 'Alberto's' outside on the front with a neon flashing 'PIZZA' light that casts everything in front of that restaurant in a haze of red and blue.

Inside, when the door opens, a small bell jangles and all the ubiquitous pizza place fixtures are there. There are the red and white plastic tablecloths. There are the matching sets of red pepper and parmesan cheese dispensers on each table. There are those red plastic glasses for soft drinks…

And at the other end of the room with an older man and a woman clucking about him is Alexander. He's standing with his back to the door, bare of back for the moment and holding the ruins of his t-shirt in one hand while the older woman pushes a t-shirt towards him, imploring him to take it.

At the sound of the bell, they turn to look at her entrance and the older man rushes forward, "Please, madame. Have a seat, what do you both want? Pepperoni, extra cheese, eh?"

Alex looks over as he lifts up the shirt, "And some soda please, Mr. Pappas."

"Right away, Alejandros." He smiles to Magdalena, then shuffles off.

A small grin is shot towards her and he gives a small shrug as if to say, 'such is life.' He then pulls the shirt down over his chest, giving a bare glance at the defined fencer's physique that looks clearly delineated in the lines of each taut muscle. But then he adjusts the shirt, the name, 'ALBERTO'S! Fine Pizza!' is prominent there as he steps back and away.

Walking towards her he smiles, pulling a chair out for her and making sure she's situated before he takes a seat himself. "Part of me thought you might just disappear into the night, a figment of my imagination."

"It seems someone believe in me enough to keep me alive" Magdalena replies with a wry smile as she sits at the table, nodding thanks to his chivalry. "So you are an advertisement now?" she asks lightly about his t-shirt before she looks over at the elderly couple. "Worshippers?" Magdalena considers the pair. "Italian or Greek? I can speak both." She can speak a wide variety of languages…some of them are even living ones! "I hope I was not late" she offers to her tablemate. "I did get stuck in traffic so I ran over it. Hopefully I did not dent anyone's roof."

"Nooot, exactly." Alexander looks towards her, then offers a smile of thanks to the older woman as she brings over the sodas. He settles into his seat and says lightly, "He's Greek, she's Italian." He leans forwards and starts to fiddle with the straw wrapper that's on the tip of his straw, settling it before him and casually folding it. "I did them a good turn once so they're ok with me coming around despite the whole," He gestures at his eyes.

Looking back at her he says lightly, "I haven't told them anything particularly Olympian but I think they might have known my father soooo." He gives a small shrug.

When she mentions running atop some traffic he sort of eyeballs her, not entirely sure if she's serious, but he then adds. "I don't think you were late. But if you were I shall choose to forgive you." He offers oh so magnanimously.

"To forgive is divine" Magdalena smiles sweetly over the table at him before looking over at the couple. "As I said, actions are the most important thing to decide a person's worth. Your red eyes would cause many to jump to the wrong conclusion, but their hearts are pure and it is what you as a person are is what matters." She glances at the menu. "So what would you suggest? Food wise."

"Well, you're welcome to share some of my pizza, but I should warn you after I've been hurt…" He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck thoughtfully, "I tend to eat like a fiend. So, hopefully you won't be too grossed out." Alexander leans forward to look down upon the menu, perusing it with a fingertip and hmmming to himself. "The buffalo wings are good. Fresh buffalo each day." But then he points out something else, "Also the baklava is pretty great. Five layered as G-… as most people prefer."

His lips curl and he adds, "Most everything is pretty decent though."

"There is a lack of salads" Magdalena notes absently before an amused snort at the avoidance of the G word. "You can say that word if you like. Perhaps it is how He prefers. Buffalo wings…fresh buffalo. Well, that sounds perfect. And a water to drink." A pause. "Is it tap water?" New York water is perhaps something she would like to avoid. "Do you have a job, Alexander? What does an immortal do with their time other than upsetting their aunt?"

For a moment he sort of eyes her, as if to gauge if she fell for the joke or didn't or what… she's probably teasing him back and he makes a small harumph before answering. "I do not have a job, I'll have you know. I'm going to graduate school, however. If only so I can call myself Dr. Phobos." At that he smiles but then the elder Pappas steps in.

"It is bottled water, madame. I shall get for you. Buffalo wings as well. Pizza, wings, water. On the way." He steps back smiling openly to them both then hustles back towards the counter.

Alexander looks back towards Magdalena and murmurs, "I should warn, you however, if you are building up some image of me as this terribly kind and good-hearted sort I should let you know it's not always the case." He holds up a fingertip as if to stay her from daring to have such an opinion.

"You asked what blessings the blood of Christ bestowed upon me earlier" Magdalena replies softly - this is not for public knowledge. "One of those blessings is to be able to tell /exactly/ what kind of person you are. So I do not do 'images' of people. I simply see the truth." Now it is her turn to hold up a finger. "But only if I must. It is rather intrusive on my part." Another faint smile. "And I know when people are lying." A pause. "And, yes, these blessings do 'bug' people."

At the mention of such knowledge he grows quiet, leaning forward and listening. At the first he seems taken aback, as if having such a power would almost be an… intimidating thing. The other does not seem to worry him quiet as much. But she can see by the way he leans back into his seat his thoughts have drifted elsewhere. Memories of times past, the things he has done, the lives he's taken.

He catches the corner of his lower lip in his teeth and holds it there thoughtfully before those faint red eyes lift to meet her gaze again. "I would be worried if you chose to look on me with such a gaze, Magdalena."

For a moment he lets that hang there but then he takes a breath and confides, "I've done some terrible things in the past. I've fought in a war. I've taken lives. I have frightened people nigh unto death and robbed them of their sanity." Of course he has his reasons for such, but actions are still actions and hold a truth of their own.

"I am not a hero." He says this matter-of-factly, passing judgement on himself with the ease of a pen stroke.

"And I would be worried if I felt I had to look on you with such a gaze" Magdalena replies before listening to his confession. "There are reasons for everything, Alexander. Even if that reason is 'no reason'…though that way lies insanity. What I am interested in is that reason. And the effect that reason has on your soul." A faint smile. "Even Hellenistic deities have souls, Alexander. How you acknowledge that is what interests me."

It's clear by the look in those eyes and the way he sort of looks up and to the side, hands open with palms towards her… that he isn't entirely sure about that. But perhaps he also feels it's not worth arguing about. He smiles a bit and instead tries to make light of it, breaking the mood with a casual attempt at humor. "I also sometimes eat pizza but not the crust, and when I'm feeling particularly bad I'll listen to some Miley Cyrus." He gives a solemn nod as if perhaps _that_ would condemn his soul to hell. Or the equivalent.

Magdalena smiles faintly at the trivialisation of sin offered in the name of distracting humour. Thankfully the food arrives and she thanks the couple once more before eyeing off the buffalo wings. "I take it that these are not real wings of buffalos" she notes, knowing that a buffalo doesn't have a wing but having no idea what is being offered her. But if you can't trust the taste of a demi-god… She daintily picks one up and bites warily into it. "Mmm…that is quite nice. There is no need to be nervous around me, Alexander."

"I can think of one or two reasons to be," Alex offers with that casual aplomb of his, eyes glowing slightly as his pizza is set before him. He takes his time disentangling one large over-cheesy piece of pizza and sets it on the paper plate before him. He nods his thanks to the elder server, then looks back towards her.

"So now it's your turn." He says with some finality, "Do _you_ have a job? Other than traipsing around on rooftops at night." He then smiles a bit, "Are His scions allowed to have 'fun'?" He asks this easily enough, those glowing eyes awaiting her answer. That's when he takes a bit heaping bite of pizza and chews.

"Why would He deny fun?" Magdalena replies with a curious expression. "What he does not wish us to do is /sin/. Fun and sin are not the same thing, Alexander. I am not a nun." She chews on another wing, seeming to like them quite a lot. "I am one of the most recent of the descendants of Christ. How do you think I got here? Virgin birth? And how will the next descendants get here?" A nod. "I have a job. Librarian." What did he expect? Stripper?

Again he splays his hands, "Hey, I don't know much about you and your cult's arcane ways." Oh that jerk, but then again the wry half-smile of his might rob those words of their sting. He reaches over and then, without even a by your leave, he steals one of her buffalo wings, dips it in the ranch sauce and then starts to nibble on it.

"Well then describe to me what is an ideal day in the Magdalena's life? A perfect relaxing Saturday or the like?" He pulls apart the bones of the small wing to get at some of the meat, then sets them aside once finished.

"Theft is a sin" Magdalena casually points out about her buffalo wing before considering his question. "An ideal day would be a day that I was not needed" she answers honestly. "But since that will never be since good and evil will be together forever, then my ideal day would be to do His work. That my actions contribute to a better world and help innocent souls have a better life."

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