It had been a good many years since he had lingered merely for the sake of lingering and so allowed his gaze to drift from one being to the next as they passed him. Each of them filtering in and out off his terribly long life in that singular moment, those faint tendrils off his own power reaching to grasp near each one and tease from them but the faintest of glimpses into their lives. It was lazy, upon his part, to so allow his own power to flicker and dance in such a fashion and yet, sometimes, it took but more energy than he cared to admit to restrain it. Sometimes too- he was curious of those who passed him, even if only for a fleeting moment. After all, curiosity was rare for one so old. Matteo unwilling to waste those fleeting flares of such intrigue. Rarer still was a morning in which the world had little use of him and those whose lives he watched over were each, oddly content for the time being and without any need for his own interruption. Perhaps, later, he would seek to bother Alexander for the sheer sport of it before the equally well-aged Hunter ventured out for his evening training sessions with the horse. Perhaps tonight he would watch them. For now he was wholly inclined to continue to watch the people who passed him. His own figure reclined upon that wooden bench beside the bus station despite his having no intention of indulging in such public transport at all. How novel an idea the bus was. Matteo rather assured he had never used such a form of transport in all his life save for when the bus had been first invented and he had coaxed Alexander into riding it with him if only for the novelty.

The fingers of his right hand toyed absentmindedly with the silver-coloured crucifix at his neck, his equally silver eyes continuing to to watch the people as they passed. His consideration of why any being might so buy pre-made lasagna like the woman hurrying across the road before him was interrupted by a singular vision- one more potent than the others. One near demanding in nature. The very sort of vision that so often revolved around a being whose very future was so designed to intersect, no matter how briefly, with his own. Tose images that lingered behind his were strikingly clear in a fashion they so tended to be when that very future was set to unfold within mere moments rather then in days or weeks or years. How clearly he could see that woman with the dark hair and striking eyes. A Fae perhaps? No, no, nature so rarely bent to the will of a Fae. The woman in his vision marked by a different magic entirely, one that seemed to see the trees about her shift and sway. A manipulation of earth perhaps, no, wind. A witch then- and a young one at that if those sapling trees within his mind's eye was but any indication and yet his features frowned readily in that moment. That dark red hue that so often overtook the silver off his gaze in those moments in which his magic was at its most potent seeming to flare all the brighter as he pried further at those hands of fate. Paint? Why on earth did he continue to see paint? Perhaps she was an artist of some kind. Splashing paint? That image was far too clear to merely be symbolic. Indeed he was near assured that very vision was literal in every sense.

Matteo forced that power away then, returning the silver to his gaze just in time to see that very woman from his vision step from a store across the street. Her dark hair and icy blue gaze just as he had envisioned, a can of paint swinging loosely from her hand as she strode idly forward. That very vision so at last making sense and yet- perhaps but a fraction to late. That unfortunate man she was so destined to collide with already heading towards her as Matteo rose from his own seat. His feet carrying him readily toward the pair, one handing extending slightly in some effort to capture the young woman's attention.

"Ah, Mademoiselle..."

Those accented lyrics so easily parted his lips and yet he was but a fraction too late to prevent that near impending tragedy. The young woman stumbling into that man then, her paint tin clattering to the pavement only to splash that blue-coloured paint over her shoes and that of the unfortunate fellows- her apologies falling swiftly from her lips. Her victim, for his part, so hardly impressed. The other man content to berate her for not watching where she was going while complaining about his ruined shoes and demanding to know why she could not be more careful. Ah, but once there had been a time in which a man knew how to speak to a woman, even one whom had made a mistake. How the times of the world had changed- and not for the better. How quickly men had ceased to be gentleman. His features frowned but slightly in displeasure at the other man as he stormed away. Matteo stepping forward then only to crouch down beside the young woman with the bright blue gaze, his hand reaching to brush ever so slightly against her own and still her efforts. The Fae reached for that fallen paint can lid then only to place it back upon that can and press downward to seal it back into place, several smudges of blue maring his own skin in turn and yet for now he paid them little heed. His head merely lifting then to meet the bright faze of the woman opposite him, that warm simper so finding his lips as he pressed that sealed paint can back towards her.

"Here, Mon Cherie, all fixed. Though I fear perhaps your shoes have suffered an unfortunate fate. In the very least though, such a colour so surely compliments your eyes."

That soft, easy chuckle so hummed from within his throat then. Matteo's silver gaze lingering upon her own as he so held out his hand, content to take her own within his and so smoothly guide her upward and to her feet once more. His fingers gently releasing her own from the warmth of his grasp. Several blue fingerprints to left upon her own hand.

"Do not pay much heed to men such as that. His words are not worth worrying over. His outfit so needed the colour I am sure."

Those accented words were offered easily then, that simper still in place as the Frenchman nodding toward that can of paint once more.

"What is it we are painting today, hmm?"

His vision had so failed to inform him of just how much paint the woman had been destined to carry. This, surely, far to much for a mere painting. Unless she so desired to paint a house. Perhaps she did. That curiosity for the dark-haired girl tugging at him then before his gaze once more fell upon her hand and the blue fingerprints he himself had left upon it. His features frowning but slightly before his own hand reached into the back pocket of his fitted jeans to produce that pristine white cloth. Though just how he had come to have such a thing so on hand remained to be seen. Matteo wholly inclined to keep but some secrets to himself. That cloth offered towards her then.

"For your hands. It is alright, I have plenty where this came from. You are a witch, yes?"

That very declaration was sudden and yet he so sought to confirm his own suspicion in that moment. Even if several of those answers had already showed themselves to him. What an intriguing woman he had so found in his company today....



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