He was oblivious, perhaps, to just how those uttered words so seemed to turn within the mind of the dark-haired woman before him, akin to a near mantra of sorts, as she so sought to puzzle through them. To consider them. To wonder of them. Yet- perhaps too he knew she did as such, for there was little the near ancient Fae was not inclined to know when he so chose and yet, for tonight, he saw little need to offer her mind the reprieve of that translation. Not when it was so she had dared him to do his worst when it came to those languages. That ever impish simper that had so become a veritable trademark of the good-natured Fae adorning his lips as his head softly shook in response to her request. For tonight, at least, she would wonder of one more thing within this world. Matteo content instead in that moment to meet that unspoken challenge of sorts that had begun between them in that delicate dance of innuendo's and unspoken things. How terribly tempting it was to see how far he might press the girl before she shied away. She played that game well, far to well perhaps, for someone so young and yet he could not deny his own curiosity in her very demeanor. Such beings as Harley were a rare indulgence in this world. The woman so bold as to suggest it was he whom underestimated her. How little she knew and yet how readily he welcomed her boldness all at once. Her very insistence that they would see prompting that nod from himself in turn. His words wholly gentle in that accented utterance

"That we will, Mon Cherie. That we will."

He had not truly anticipated the curiosity the woman might hold in his species or indeed the supernatural world at large and just how others might stand to be created and yet, perhaps he should have. What human had not been curious of the supernatural? Would he not be just as such were he within a position akin to her own? Did she truly realise the very gift off her humanity? Perhaps she did. Her disdain for (nearly) all things supernatural while surely the result of far to many bad experiences with such things was perhaps too....a pride of sorts in her own humanity. In so having survived for so very long untainted. How dearly he wished she might....survive longer then fate had decided and yet such a path seemed unachaging in its reckless abandon to march onward ina fashion near akin to Harley herself. One more life destined to find itself laid before Risque. His loathing for that very woman all-consuming. One day her debt would be paid and yet until that day he would so continue to piece back together those lives she broke one fragment at a time and without her awareness. Matteo once more allowing such thoughts to pass in the wave of amusement that so came from Harley's insistence she did not suspect a Witch was crafted by fire light and with harmonious melodies. That soft chuckle rising within his throat. In that she was surely distinctly correct and yet he made no effort to fill her mind with the truth of the horrors most transformations seemed to require. She so hardly needed such a thing.

That very sympathy that so seemed to find her voice in the wake off his efforts to explain his own species prompted that shift off his silvered gaze to the violet off her own once more. Her words once more unanticipated and yet- perhaps she sympathized well with a species so struggling to survive in a world in which those odds were so terribly stacked against them. After all, was not such a thing the plight of humans in turn? The human race merely gifted with a single prize most Fae were not. A rather abundant fertility. Humanity, in the least, held the ability to save itself through reproduction while his own continued to waver upon the very brink of extinction itself with so terribly few Fae children ever born. Perhaps it was sad. Perhaps she was right. How well he knew the truth off her words and yet to what end would it bring him to consider it until he found himself despairing? That smile, this time, near rueful as it found his lips. His own words, now, equally as truthful. How had he survived this long?

"I have been fortunate that in my life the friends I have made have proven to be true friends. That- and I am very clever."

That simper widened ever so slightly once more. Matteo, as always, so content to guide others toward those more pleasant emotions, when he could. The Frenchman near assured Harley need not dwell upon the end off his own species- there was surely enough beings in the world to do such a thing. He himself dwelled upon it often enough....even if he so readily hid those concerns from those around him. His mention of his sons once more so prompting a near curious look from the woman as she sought that veritable clarification. Hmm, she truly did have a sharp mind. Matteo's head nodded once more.

"I do indeed have two sons. I have had more over the centuries, each holding the misfortune of being born human and suffering the immortality that so comes at the price of humanity. Fae do not always father Fae you see. We can interbreed with any other species save for vampires. Dorian is my only Fae born son. Aiden came along much later and he is mortal-born.

And he would lose him too, one day, as he lost his other mortal children over the centuries. That, perhaps, the single and only thought that so....distressed him- far more than the slow death of his own species. The loss of Aiden would be....so unfathomable he hardly cared to consider it. He loved Aiden.....more then he had loved the others. Aiden and Dorian. His favoured children. How terrible a thing to think. To so favour two children over the others and yet such a thought presented itself all the same. And how true it was. It was fortunate perhaps that conversation so shifted again to Antarctica. Matteo more then willing to speak of the world and its joys. Antarctica, in some fashion, akin to the very woman whom lingered before him. Harley so hardly daring to deny that very claim before querying whether he dared suggested she was both beautiful and cold. His eyes lifting upward in surprise as that warm simper so teased upon his lips. Did he think he both beautiful and cold?

"I do- but one more so then the other. You shall be forever destined to wonder which."

Ah, but perhaps he should not tease her so! Yet he was near assured she was not at all the sort of woman to shy away from such games. Her very boldness, perhaps, inclining him to allow her to work upon that tattoo at all. Such permanent art, after all, required a certain assurance- even if it was destined to hurt. Such pain might surely be worth it though if only to annoy Alexander as harley so suggested. Perhaps one day too he might yet show Dorian and Aiden those names hidden in those tattoos in turn. Matteo content to regale his companion then with those tales of the world as it had once been during the Revolution, as he settled within that chair. His insistence he had been careful not to picture her in a dress so prompting that momentary thought from Harley before the violet-eyed woman seemed to grasp that hidden meaning, her grin equally as bright before she so demanded that vision surely be complimentary.

"You looked very good, I promise. Quite exceptional."

He uttered softly, one eye arching near teasingly upward as he reached for that offered lollipop in turn. That insistence he was always a good boy so readily called out by the raven-haired woman, a warm chuckle her only response as she begun work on that tattoo. That pain decidedly....more then he had anticipated. Matteo winching readily with several of those needle pricks, especially those over the bone itself. Greenland, he had decided, was something of a vengeful country. The Fae so attempting to focus on keeping his foot still and prevent it doing the 'thing' Harley mentioned as the woman continued to work, wiping away at that blood as it rose to the surface. A soft rush of air parting his lips again as she brushed over yet another bone and Harley spoke of Greenland and its curious naming. Her very insistence however that it was he whom was destined to lose that very game they had engaged within only further prompted the return of that simper. Matteo leaning laconically back in that chair once more with that singular promise that this was not at all a game he intended to lose. Indeed his victory was already assured- he was certain. Even if she so believed the silver of second place might better match his eyes.

'Ah, Mon Cherie, but I disagree, violet and silver were once the colours of freedom- the silver of second should surely be your own."

Neither, it seemed, was at all inclined to yield in any fashion. Harley continuing with that tattoo then as Matteo's own attention shifted to perhaps another of his veritable interests upon Harley's very mention of it. That much needed drink. A flick of his hand was all that was truly required to summon that shot glass filled neatly with that amber coloured tequila that so promised to take the edge off the pain within his feet. Matteo hardly oblivious to the sheer disbelief that seemed to cross the woman's features as she paused in her work, her gaze lingering upon his own physique in some effort to ascertain just where he had managed to conceal a filled shot glass. That good natured simper so adorning his lips still. Matteo nothing if not inclined to...showmanship on most occasions. Ridiculous- Aiden called it and yet the Frenchman had never been any other way.

"I fear i cannot tell you where I was hiding it. It is a terribly great secret you see. I can, however, do it again."

The very mirth that seemed to near dance in the depth of that silver gaze so readily insisted he teased her all the more with just how great a 'secret' that affinity might well be. Matteo downing that shot with a near expert ease before leaning over to rest the glass on the nearest table, his hand held before the dark-haired woman now only for his wrist to flick once more, his fingers seeming to grasp at the air as they did. A second shot glass appearing in just the same fashion as the first between his fingers. This one equally as filled as the first. The utter wideness to the woman's striking gaze decidedly amusing, her wonderment equally clear as that glass was placed beside the first.His head nodding softly.

"It tastes like tequila because it is tequila and you are welcome to it- once you finish. I think it safer perhaps if the woman so pressing needles into my skin remains sober until she is finished."

That easy chuckle rose briefly within his throat once more, that sound cut short by those needles so making their final marks upon his flesh. New Zealand, he had decided, by far his least favoured country in the entire world in that moment. That muttered curse word released beneath his breath as his jaw clenched ever so slightly and yet he remained distinctly determined to sit entirely still and prevent his foot moving in any fashion. Harley so at last wiping away the last of that blood and ink, his feet sure to be a little....battered for a few days. The raven-haired woman lent away then to declare that work complete before she stood, her lithe figure stretching readily as Matteo's own gaze shifted to his feet to eye that meticulous work. That pain entirely worth that result.

"Ah, Magnifique! You did well. I like it very much, in all its permanency. I think you have earned your drink."

The Frenchman gestured readily towards that promised shot then that Harley had so desired to taste. His own silver gaze turned back to examine his feet for several more moments as he followed those lines of each country. His feet, held together, completing that world map. The near ancient Fae offering that final nod of satisfaction before his attention shifted again to the young raven-haired woman with the striking violet eyes. There was but one more promise to keep- the promise of a game to be won. That heavy accent so training his gentle words once more.

"I think, Mon Cherie, we so left our game at my insistence that if I was to, as you say, fuck with you, I would not use my words. You asked me how I would do it. I assured you I would show you- and so I shall. Do you know what I found so disheartening about the world as it is now?"

It was, almost, a near rhetorical question, as if the Fae so hardly anticipated a true answer. That ever present impish grin to daring to dance upon his features once more in clear display of the amusement he took from his own game and yet he had played this game so many times before- yet it had been a terribly long time since anyone, a women especially, had allowed him to go so far before offering that yield. Matteo leaning forward then to slide easily from that chair. The Frenchman so momentarily testing his feet to assure himself they were entirely within working order before his hand was so suddenly held toward Harley in turn. Matteo offering that encouraging nod as he continued.

"People nowadays say so very much, without saying anything at all. Words are better used sparingly, or better still, paired with actions . People are not so bold as they once were though, when I was young, it is a pity..."

Just what those words so meant exactly remained to be seen. Matteo so effortlessly tugging Harley toward him then only to guide her hand upward and, within the motion, coax her to turn until her back pressed softly against the hard plains off his own chest, his fingers still entwined with her own, his free hand ever so softly coming to rest upon her waist. That new positioning of their figures decidedly more intimate. Matteo near assured he could almost hear the flutter of her heart. How sweet it was. That warm simper hardly faltering upon his lips. The Frenchman's head tilting just soas to allow his lips to hover delicately above that soft, sensitive skin of her neck that peeked between that raven hair. The gentle warmth of his breath so dancing upon that skin with those soft words.

"I quite enjoy bold actions, they speak louder than words, after all...."

His lips pressed readily to her skin then, that touch near featherlight. Matteo working his way upward and along her shoulder until his lips easily found her neck. Those touches nothing short of practiced and yet equally as confident for all their softness as so teased that smooth skin to life. His lips pressed a final time just below her left ear- that very touch so holding that distinct promise for something more and yet.....he so allowed that gentle hold upon her to release. Matteo stepping smoothly back from her then. His head dipped in a near flamboyant bow of sorts as she turned to face him. That gesture alone so distinctly...Matteo in every sense.

"So you see, Mon Cherie, I would not use my words..."


That bar for their game had been risen again and how well he knew it. That impish gin still in place.

"Tell me then, what do I owe you for laying the world at my feet?"


m a t t e o
it's tough to be a god