Matteo

It's tough to be a god

It had been some time indeed since he had last found himself in the company of a child so young. At least for more than a few passing moments within the street. Not since his own youngest son had been a mere boy had he spent any real length of time engaged in any conversation with just such a being and yet- Matteo had never found displeasure in the company of children in any sense. His gentle, near easy nature so often as appealing to children as the inquisitive nature of a child so was to him in turn. A Fae child even more so. After all, their very species so teetered precariously upon the brink of extinction altogether. To see a young Fae was a pleasing thing. Even if he hardly dared utter such words to her lest he fill her mind with thoughts of unpleasantness and the very sort of things a child should not worry about. Children, he was sure, should not be made to concern themselves with their rapidly declining species. There would be plenty of time, in her adult years, for her to fear such things. Childhood a gift far to fleeting and one, he suspected, that the child before him had already suffered to loss off to at least a certain extent. That very affinity, similar to his own, that danced so precariously upon her finger tips only further threatened to rob her of that childlike innocence that seemed to surround her figure. To peer into the future was....not truly a gift. At least not in the way so many other affinities were. To know of the past an equally burdensome curse. What sins had such a small child committed to be cursed with such a thing? None, he suspected. Fate inclined to merely be cruel for the sake of it- of that he was nearly assured. The Frenchman, for now, allowing such considerations to pass.

That warm simper upon his lips to hardly faltered at that polite greeting he was offered. The near ancient Fae content to find a curiosity of sorts in the use of his name from the young girls lips when they had so only just met but moments ago and yet he said nothing of it for now. The Frenchman instead taking up that near lackadaisical position. His elbow resting upon the table, his head within his hands in a fashion almost boyish in nature and so designed to make the child feel at ease. Young Maeve moving to mimic that gesture in a manner he found near endearing in a way. His offer of that cupcake upon his plate sparking that ready delight in the girl as she moved to take it from him. That gesture alone, it seemed, prompting a near sudden flow of conversation from the young girl as she spoke eagerly of her friend Tobi and his love of sweet things. The child describing that shaggy haired deviant as an adult who was 'like a child' and yet she hardly appeared either concerned nor judgemental over the Leopard she had befriended. Maeve, in that moment, reminding him of Tetradore in her near unflinching belief that Tobias was just like any other. Tetradore, to this day, still very much holding that belief in turn. Matteo's head nodded softly in response to those words he was offered. The child afforded his full attention for the length of her determined speech. Matteo pausing only to take another sip of that coffee before meeting her violet eyes with the silver of his own. His accented words smoothly parting his lips.

"Do you know, I know your friend Tobi? I have met him several times before. He calls me 'Fancy'. I think my accent confuses him sometimes but I can see why it is you like him so. He is fun. Most adults are not fun. They are boring."

That near impish smile found his lips then. As if the notion that adults were 'boring' might yet be a secret to keep between them. His shoulders shrugging in a playful fashion then, as if there was a humour to be found in his admittance of the fact. Matteo inclined to believe it all the same. Maeve continued then with that declaration she would like to learn to make cupcakes if only so she might share them with her 'pack'. That young girl made from a sweetness and generosity so rarely seen in the world today- far less so within a child. How very unfortunate it would be if those visions that danced upon the precipice of her eyes so threatened to ruin such a thing- and they surely did. Even if she hardly knew it.

"We can surely find time for that, though I think, Mon Petit, there might be other things we need learn first."

Cupcakes, he suspected, was not the reason he had danced within her visions and she within his own for that precarious moment in time that had so brought each of them here today. Even if, he suspected, Maeve's own visions of the future were not powerful enough to show her reason behind their action. Her gifts for the past, he suspected, far stronger in turn. Those insights of the future perhaps always destined to be near lacking in a fashion and yet such a thing might yet be a blessing. Maeve continued with her treat then. Matteo querying gently as to whether or not she knew why she was here before making mention of that curious creature stored within her jacket. The Frenchman unable to prevent that tug of amusement to his features at the idea of a chipmunk within one's shirt. A small tap from the young girl all it took to prompt that white animal to poke its head from within. Matteo nodding softly.

"Yes, I saw him in my own vision of you."

That very admittance of that shared power between them came smoothly then. Matteo meeting her own gaze once more as she struggled to explain just what she had seen. A fear of sorts readily gripping at her as those very realisations seemed to dawn within her mind. Such a very big power- for someone so very small. Someone not yet old enough to handle it or understand it. Yet this was a veritable truth he could not shield her from. He had already foreseen but some of her life. Some paths upon it so very...difficult to travel and yet, as always, such thoughts remain his own. His own hand extended forward then to rest but briefly upon her own, that gesture decidedly light and one aimed to draw her attention back toward him alone and out of the confines of her mind in as much as that touch so offered a near fleeting affection before he withdrew that hand to himself again.

"You do not need to fear it, Mon Amie. Whether past or future those visions can bring you no harm, but....they can bring harm to others and I think perhaps it is that I need teach you off today."

How very difficult it was to explain those things he had learned over two thousand years to a girl no more than a child! Yet, that calm, easy manner so hardly faltered as his hand lifted. That singular wave so seeing a rather long piece of yarn appear within his hand, along with a small wooden doll. Matteo so placing those very things upon the table between them then with no explanation to how he had made them appear all the same. His fingers reached for that long red piece of yarn then, Matteo silently stretching it across the table before taking that little wooden doll and placing it in the center of that line. The Fae looped the yarn about the doll several times, leaving one end trailing out either side of the doll. His finger lifted then, point to that line of yarn on the left.

"This is the past."

His finger moved then to point to that thread wrapped around the doll.

"This is the present."

He moved then to point to the end of the yarn on the right of the little doll.

"This is the future. You see Mon Petit, they are all connected in one very long line, just like this thread. The future comes and wraps around us to become the present, as we keep moving forward it is left behind us to become the past. Sometimes you see things from here, this part of the line before they have happened, but I think more often you see things from over here, yes? The things that have already happened. The past."

He paused then, glancing upward at the child. Those visuals, no matter how simple, so often helped children understand. The matter of past and present and future far, far more complex than string and dolls and yet, here and now, he simply wished to have the child understand on a level she might so prove capable of grasping more readily. Children, after all, were so often far less fearful of something they could see. His words gentle once more.

"The future is one thing, but the past is another. The past is so often what makes us who we are but- not all memories are good ones, are they? To see someone's past is very personal. You must be very respectful of it.You must be careful what you say of it too. Some people have secrets in their past. Secrets are important aren't they? You must keep them for other people, even if you do not understand them. I think though, I can show you how to stop visions you do not want to see. Would you like that?"