Steven had a particular insight when it came to pretty girls -- or so he liked to think. In reality, he was as clueless as every other man who thought he knew something, but Steven had a secret weapon when it came to women, and it's a lucky thing too -- he might have died a virgin without it.
Even before Sia's money touched the bartop, Steven's own crumpled and wadded bills were laying on the table before her. "It's on me, man," the aging rockstar told the man behind the bar, who was far too young to recognize Steven and far too busy to care whether the girl dumped her drink in Steven's lap or slapped him for the surprise advance -- he was all too happy to take the money and step out of the line of fire.
"Shouldn't be drinking alone when you're that upset," Steven began in a perfectly civil tone.
Her mind was wandering yet again to maybe trying to call David and explain the hangup on the voicemail. Which then in turned wandered to the fact that maybe she was just being an idiot in the fact that there probably was no way she could be 'good'. Especially now that she was only twenty, and seriously thinking about getting drunk off her ass, and maybe taking some random guy home for some fun. Then telling Miguel all about it tomorrow and making him overly uncomfortable. Really, it was a never ending cycle, truly
( ... )
To Steven, it seemed a silly question to ask. The answer to the question was so very obvious -- but, then, those seemed to be the answers most missed. Very philosophical, Steven.
"One," the rocker said, holding up his pointer finger, "Pretty girl, drinking alone. Two, your aura's a mess, man. All dark and..." His fingers twitched as his wrist rotated, creating a sort of twirling motion with his hand. It was a fluid gesture, and the motion of his fingers made it seem as though his hand had a life all its own. He blinked at her, suddenly, as her face shifted into something...very, very old, of rotting flesh and bone. "...And dead."
His vision cleared as suddenly as it had clouded, and he lowered his head into his hand. Man, that was some trippy stuff he'd had earlier... Peeking through his fingers, he asked, "And, three, you're too pretty to be drinking alone." His smile, always at the read, reappeared as he lowered his hand.
A brow shot up at the pretty girl comment, but even she had to feel the slight twitch of a smile at the corners of her lips. Even if it didn't get the chance to form. Because it was then she was called dark and dead. If you only knew buddy. She thought to herself as she frowned. Either this was going to prove to be a very insightful mortal, or she had just run into another blasted god
( ... )
"Maybe they're the same, because that's the most important part of what I was trying to say," Steven answered smugly as he leaned back a little in his chair to take a swig of his own brew of choice. "But you're right. I know plenty of dead people who are never in bad moods. Take Hades, for eample. A little rough around the edges -- when you're stealing his guests, anyway -- but a really nice gu. And a really great host, you know? The kind that makes you feel all warm and special..."
Steven was given to such tangents -- most took it in stride. It came with his character, a bit of an eccentricity. Steven didn't care whether he was believed or not.
With his tell-tale smile, he extended a friendly hand to her. "I'm Steven Shincoe."
She rolled her eyes at the talk of her being pretty again and she motioned for the guy behind the bar to bring more shots, this time putting her own cash down on the bar before the guy could. Though when he started going on a rant about knowing Hades, she was trying her best not to gawk at him. Either this guy was off his rocker or he was telling the truth.
Which what better place to tell the truth to random strangers? Regular people would just think him a drunk. "No ... I wouldn't know." She commented carefully. What if the guy was telling the truth? Just great, the last thing she needed was another god dude, and they seemed to come in two forms the kind that wanted to rip off your head or the kind that made you feel like you couldn't do anything right.
not wanting to be rude though, she took his hand. "Anatasia." She answered simply, then tilted her head. "Wait, the old rocker dude?" The fact that she had heard of him was probably a surprise in itself.
"Well, I wouldn't say old," he answered, more taken aback by the fact she had called him old than pleased she knew who he was. Steven often took it for granted that everybody knew who he was -- even when, in reality, most people didn't. "I mean, I'm not as young as you, but that hardly makes me old."
He might have pouted a little if he hadn't had his drink to drown his sorrows in.
"I just look old, because this is a hard life, you know? All the parties and the stress of having money, man, it wears on you." Not to mention the drugs coursing through his system at any given time... "It's character, man. Character. Every one of these lines has got a story. Like the Styx. So many stories crossing that river every day..."
She hadn't meant to offend him. Sometimes she could be more blunt then she planned to be. She frowned a little and then shook her head. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean you're like ancient or anything. Just older than I am, you know?" Well, at least she was trying to smooth things over. most of the time she wouldn't care. But he had bought the first round of drinks, so she should at least play nice
( ... )
Both of Steven's eyebrows shot up, and he looked suddenly downright jovial. "Apology accepted!" he practically boomed, lifting his glass up to clank loudly against hers before downing its contents. "Another round!" he invited to the barkeep as he set his glass down on the counter-top.
"One of my favorite places to visit," Steven reemphasised brightly. "And I know lots of people down there -- if I could, I'd talk a little walk down there right now and see if Hades would let me bring Jim Morrison back. Now there's a man who was taken before his time."
By this time, the bartender had returned with refills, accepting Steven's money as skittishly as he had the first time around.
"Man, Jim Morrison was just a great guy, you know? Really, the best this world has to offer -- laid-back, cool as a cucumber. And, man, did the women love him." And although he was still smiling, he also looked mournful. "Real tragedy."
So, she still wasn't sure on if he was crazy or not, but even she now couldn't help the smile that started to form on her lips. Drunk crazy people could be amusing, and if he happened to be telling the truth then maybe he was neither in her assumption of the gods she had happened across thus far.
"You really do think that all exists, don't you?" She asked, might as well try to get to some sort of truth. Though she did almost think that it was best if she didn't mention that she had no idea on who this Jim morrison dude was that he was rambling on about.
She picked up a shot and actually sipped at this one instead.
Steven grinned. "Of course it exists." He spoke with the simple confidence of someone who truly believed what he said. "Those were good days...but, you know, I got to attend Woodstock. Mortal." Steven gave a cheerful chortle. "Experiencing what people used to celebrate on my name... It was..." He blew out a contented sigh. "...Mind-blowing."
For a moment, he said nothing, just contemplating Woodstock and what it meant to him. "Like my moment of clarity. And I just knew who I was... Ever had a moment like that?" His eyes moved to her inquisitively, their depths still and honest.
Oh, now this could be interesting. Did this guy think she didn't know who she was? She smiled at him, it was hard not to with that huge grin plastered on his face. But hey, she could play dumb. At least for a little while. Til she was too drunk to care and just blurted out everything.
"So you're telling me, Woodstock was because of you?" She asked, filling her voice with confusion. Which wasn't all false. She didn't know who this guy really was. "And if Hades and all that are real, how do you know him anyway?"
"No, no, no," the old rockstar replied with a shake of his head and a broad gesture with his free hand. "Woodstock was because there were some very inspired people who weren't afraid to express themselves. And who weren't afraid to experiment with mind-altering substances." He couldn't help but chortle a little at that. Oh, the good days. "What I meant was that there was a time something like Woodstock would have been in my name -- totally not the same thing."
Really, it wasn't... To Steven, Woodstock had been great progress. And laws against drugs were the opposite. Humans were funny like that, though.
"Oh, all that is real, sister. Hades is my uncle!" That made him pause, then snort a little in laughter. "Uncle Hades. I should call him that. He'd love it. Oh! And I made a few trips down there once or twice... Had to sneak in the back way the last time." His grin was full of both mischief and triumph
( ... )
Confusion crossed her face. Maybe Tez had been right, a Goddess of the Underworld really ought to stick with the dead rather then deal with this living. But really all she was gathering was that this dude was really happy, old ... ish, and a hippie? Well, that told her nothing.
Hades was his Uncle? Sure, Sia had heard of Hades ... well, most of the Underworld Gods had probably heard of each other at some point or another. But with the separation of the pantheons, and with each having their own little piece of it (it was a big place after all)it wasn't like the majority of them actually socialized.
"So, if Hades is your Uncle ... who does that make you?" She asked bluntly, finally finishing off the shot and eying the other on the bar. She smiled at him, her cheeks already a little flushed because of the drinks, but at least her speech hadn't begun to get all slurred.
"Dionysus!" Again, he boomed the word, as though he had just won a guessing game. He had never been shy about it, after all -- and why should he be? He was Steven Shincoe! There was no reason to be shy!
Especially since his proclamation only brought him success.
His eyebrows rose, and he couldn't help but add, "I thought it was pretty obvious with all the hints." Still grinning, though, he added, "But, I bet if you had to guess, you would have nailed it."
No harm, no foul. He was rather pleased she seemed interested, and that made up for everything.
She nearly twitched when he boomed out the name. Nervously glancing around to make sure he wasn't drawing too much attention. While he seemed perfectly fine wit hthe world knowing who he was. She wasn't. Not yet at least.
But then she shook her head. "I doubt it. I didn't get .. " She trailed off, even though she would have ended it with 'out much'. So much for not bringing up on who she was. Normally Sia was proud of who she was, and what she was. But at the moment she didn't feel very proud.
Picking up the last shot in front of her she swallowed it back, and then closed her eyes for a moment. Then she looked at him, trying to yet again distract the conversation off of herself (though with him it didn't seem hard), "What song is this?"
Even before Sia's money touched the bartop, Steven's own crumpled and wadded bills were laying on the table before her. "It's on me, man," the aging rockstar told the man behind the bar, who was far too young to recognize Steven and far too busy to care whether the girl dumped her drink in Steven's lap or slapped him for the surprise advance -- he was all too happy to take the money and step out of the line of fire.
"Shouldn't be drinking alone when you're that upset," Steven began in a perfectly civil tone.
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"One," the rocker said, holding up his pointer finger, "Pretty girl, drinking alone. Two, your aura's a mess, man. All dark and..." His fingers twitched as his wrist rotated, creating a sort of twirling motion with his hand. It was a fluid gesture, and the motion of his fingers made it seem as though his hand had a life all its own. He blinked at her, suddenly, as her face shifted into something...very, very old, of rotting flesh and bone. "...And dead."
His vision cleared as suddenly as it had clouded, and he lowered his head into his hand. Man, that was some trippy stuff he'd had earlier... Peeking through his fingers, he asked, "And, three, you're too pretty to be drinking alone." His smile, always at the read, reappeared as he lowered his hand.
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Steven was given to such tangents -- most took it in stride. It came with his character, a bit of an eccentricity. Steven didn't care whether he was believed or not.
With his tell-tale smile, he extended a friendly hand to her. "I'm Steven Shincoe."
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Which what better place to tell the truth to random strangers? Regular people would just think him a drunk. "No ... I wouldn't know." She commented carefully. What if the guy was telling the truth? Just great, the last thing she needed was another god dude, and they seemed to come in two forms the kind that wanted to rip off your head or the kind that made you feel like you couldn't do anything right.
not wanting to be rude though, she took his hand. "Anatasia." She answered simply, then tilted her head. "Wait, the old rocker dude?" The fact that she had heard of him was probably a surprise in itself.
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He might have pouted a little if he hadn't had his drink to drown his sorrows in.
"I just look old, because this is a hard life, you know? All the parties and the stress of having money, man, it wears on you." Not to mention the drugs coursing through his system at any given time... "It's character, man. Character. Every one of these lines has got a story. Like the Styx. So many stories crossing that river every day..."
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"One of my favorite places to visit," Steven reemphasised brightly. "And I know lots of people down there -- if I could, I'd talk a little walk down there right now and see if Hades would let me bring Jim Morrison back. Now there's a man who was taken before his time."
By this time, the bartender had returned with refills, accepting Steven's money as skittishly as he had the first time around.
"Man, Jim Morrison was just a great guy, you know? Really, the best this world has to offer -- laid-back, cool as a cucumber. And, man, did the women love him." And although he was still smiling, he also looked mournful. "Real tragedy."
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"You really do think that all exists, don't you?" She asked, might as well try to get to some sort of truth. Though she did almost think that it was best if she didn't mention that she had no idea on who this Jim morrison dude was that he was rambling on about.
She picked up a shot and actually sipped at this one instead.
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For a moment, he said nothing, just contemplating Woodstock and what it meant to him. "Like my moment of clarity. And I just knew who I was... Ever had a moment like that?" His eyes moved to her inquisitively, their depths still and honest.
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"So you're telling me, Woodstock was because of you?" She asked, filling her voice with confusion. Which wasn't all false. She didn't know who this guy really was. "And if Hades and all that are real, how do you know him anyway?"
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Really, it wasn't... To Steven, Woodstock had been great progress. And laws against drugs were the opposite. Humans were funny like that, though.
"Oh, all that is real, sister. Hades is my uncle!" That made him pause, then snort a little in laughter. "Uncle Hades. I should call him that. He'd love it. Oh! And I made a few trips down there once or twice... Had to sneak in the back way the last time." His grin was full of both mischief and triumph ( ... )
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Hades was his Uncle? Sure, Sia had heard of Hades ... well, most of the Underworld Gods had probably heard of each other at some point or another. But with the separation of the pantheons, and with each having their own little piece of it (it was a big place after all)it wasn't like the majority of them actually socialized.
"So, if Hades is your Uncle ... who does that make you?" She asked bluntly, finally finishing off the shot and eying the other on the bar. She smiled at him, her cheeks already a little flushed because of the drinks, but at least her speech hadn't begun to get all slurred.
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Especially since his proclamation only brought him success.
His eyebrows rose, and he couldn't help but add, "I thought it was pretty obvious with all the hints." Still grinning, though, he added, "But, I bet if you had to guess, you would have nailed it."
No harm, no foul. He was rather pleased she seemed interested, and that made up for everything.
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But then she shook her head. "I doubt it. I didn't get .. " She trailed off, even though she would have ended it with 'out much'. So much for not bringing up on who she was. Normally Sia was proud of who she was, and what she was. But at the moment she didn't feel very proud.
Picking up the last shot in front of her she swallowed it back, and then closed her eyes for a moment. Then she looked at him, trying to yet again distract the conversation off of herself (though with him it didn't seem hard), "What song is this?"
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