How readily that young woman seemed to mistake his empathy for pity. That very fire rising within her with all the heat and flame of a furnace. Yet too- how very pleased he was to see it. That very fight within Harley far, far stronger then in most. Even if he suspected the very reason for such came from a life that was so hardly lived easily by any means. How curious it was that fate so seemed destined to allow other such easy lives, or in the least, uncomplicated lives while others like Harley, like Aiden- perhaps even like himself, seemed time and time again to find themselves desperately attempting to cling to their place in a world they were not even truly assured they desired to be in to begin with. Why were some so sorely tested and others never given any test at all? Hmm. How introspective some thoughts might be inclined to make him and yet how little he cared to consider them now. Had he not had over two thousand years to consider those very things? If he did not know the answer now then perhaps he never would. Yet, for now, he simply works to assuage those very fears within the woman before him. His gentle touch to her chin drawing her attention entirely upon him. That difference between empathy and pity so clearly explained. Pity was not what he felt for Harley. No. Pity was what he felt for Risque, or at least.....for the woman he had once known so many years ago whom had been as bright and vivacious and wilful as Harley herself. Corruption, upon that sort of being, a terribly twisted thing and perhaps, somewhere within, he still mourned the loss of a friend whom had died so very long ago. Harley, in her own fashion, perhaps attempting sooth his own concerns with that insistence whatever he had done could hardly be as bad as some. Matteo allowing that near rueful simper to find him then. How little she knew. Yet for now- it was surely better she did not.

Her sudden insistence that she was glad for whatever he had done to bring him to her however saw that first true glimmer of surprise within his gaze. Matteo near taken aback by that very statement. How....nice a thing of her to say. Those words perhaps meaning far more than even that young woman intended them in that moment. The Frenchman offering little more than that ever-present simper in response before she commented upon that desire to know his own story. Ah, but what a thing she asked for! How long it would take to tell and indeed how very unprepared she surely was for it all the same. Matteo unable to prevent that soft chuckle as his silver gaze met the bright violet off her own once more. His head simply shaking softly and yet that very promised so layered those accented words all the same.

"Ah, Mon Cherie, one day I will tell it to you. Though I think perhaps it might take far more than a day to tell. I have lived well over two-thousand years."

It was the first time he had ever given any true indication off his real age. That number hardly exact and yet so surely significant enough to offer her some insight into just how expansive his own life had been. Yet still, that promise remained all the same. One day, she would hear it. Indeed- she was very near destined too. He had already foreseen that very thing and yet how very much of that journey they had still yet to traverse before they reached that pinnacle. Those visions so dancing behind his eyes in a near continuous stream of what was to come and yet, as always, he keeps those very futures to himself for now. They would do little good for her to know of them and too- how quickly they continued to change. Matteo, in that moment, oblivious to the manner his fingers toyed with that silver-coloured crucifix at his neck in a thoughtful contemplation. A 'tell' that Aiden alone had long ago perceived upon him. The Frenchman's thoughts, for now, turned to those more pressing matters of fate and destiny both. Harley's blatant insistence that they would all be dead if Fate took any longer so coaxing that good-natured shake off his own head and yet, he could hardly deny he enjoyed her thoughts.

"You know, I have often thought that myself?"

Ah, but the things he often thought! Another grin so flashed towards her then before he set to that task of laying out those photographs and arranging them in that veritable hierarchy of sorts. To know an enemy, after all, was to master it. Knowledge a significantly greater power than many so attributed and one, he knew, Harley could see the sense within even if her recklessness was so destined to guide her actions. How many lessons she was so let to learn and yet.....how readily he need allow her to learn them on her own in much the same way as he had allowed Aiden. Her willfulness a wonderful weapon agianst despair and yet too- the very double edged sword that would lead her to death's door more then once in what was to come. Yet- some mistakes needed to be made for lessons to be learned. Perhaps, still, he might guide her from some of them- if only she would choose to listen.

Harley was quick to seize upon the sheer amount of men that so existed within Risque's 'harem'. Such a word perhaps a distinctly astute description. Men, after all, were a creature Risque so excelled in manipulating. She had learned in her human years that she possessed so many of the things that so allured men and more so- she had learned to wield them. Her vampiric nature only further twisting that veritable arsenal into something more. Men, even now, falling readily into that woman's grasp one after the other. Matteo's gaze drawn away from those photographs only at Harley's near soft inquiry as to whether or not there was hope Risque might merely grow bored of her. That equally soft sigh drawn from the Frenchman then as he moved to near abruptly pour her another shot of gin. That, perhaps, an answer on its own and yet he saw no need to lie to her. She would need face that truth of her reality. Even if he was loath to be the one to inform her off it. The woman downing that shot near expertly. Matteo allowing one eye to lift in some mild display of amusement at that very gesture before she insisted upon the sappiness of hope.

"Hope is far, far more powerful than many give it credit for. It is not sappy, Mon Cherie. As for doing what I need to prepare you- you may yet regret affording me such free rein."

His gaze so hardly directed away from those pictured before him and yet how impishly that simper tugged but fleeting at his lips, one eye arching ever so slightly in that brief return to something near teasing interlaid with those far more serious, accented tones. That very tease a sharp parallel to his sudden mention of Nathaniel. That picture, after all, was the one she had responded most strongly too. Her very body seeming to near recoil from it. Risque's brother, it seemed, had been here well before his sister. That distinctly sharp pang of....disdain turning within the Frenchman himself. That very flair of protectiveness for that violet eyed woman shifting with potency within him and yet he was careful to assure his own features remained near neutral now as he gestured toward that very picture. Harley, in the least, seeming assured it was because of Nathaniel that Risque had become involved now. How very curious. Hmmm. Perhaps he need look more into such a thing.

"She is a jealous creature. If she feels you came between her and her brother this may have prompted her revenge agianst you although I suppose the motive matters little now. Nathaniel though, do you know where he is now?"

He had paid precious little heed to Risque's brother over those many years. After all, the man hardly transpired into the futures of those he guarded and as such there had been little need to turn his attention to the man until now. Whether or not Harley would offer him any further information however so remained to be seen. Later, perhaps, when more of that gin had begun to flow. Matteo reaching to take that offered glass she poured him before downing it in that singular mouthful in turn. What a distinctly bizarre taste. His attention returns to Darcy then, his efforts to warn the woman away from irritating that Undead Cowboy, he knew, already in vain. His arms near lifted in that very defeat- only for a near sudden grin to dance upon the woman's features with that abrupt insistence she had won.

"I really don't think- oh. I suppose you did. Although how do you know these are not arms of....uplifting encouragement?"

That soft snort fell from him all the same. Matteo, so momentarily, appearing very near boyish as his arms folded across his chest in something almost akin to a pout at this apparent momentary loss. Several words muttered beneath his breath all the same before Harley so at last admitted, honestly, that she would aim not to deliberately provoke Risque's lover. The young woman readily seizing upon that information of the bond Risque and Darcy shared- even despite his own lack of fully comprehending its intricacies. His head nodded softly now.

"I fear it is exactly as you might imagine it. As I said though, be careful, he is as manipulative as she is but in a different fashion. Do not get caught between them both."

How very much more he would surely have liked to provide her with and yet that future so continued to shift and change so very rapidly there was little tangible information he could afford here and now outside her veritable destiny to be near given to that Cowboy to deal with. Such disparaging thoughts however would hold little value here. Matteo instead content to afford her knowledge of at least one weapon agianst him. The very appearance of that gun seeming to delight the violet eyed woman so much he felt very near guilty for his ruse. Almost. How well he would remember that look upon her features in the moment of its disappearance. That glare he was fixed with very near murderous and yet that laughter only rolled all the more richly from him then. That slap upon his arm so failing to cease that genuine sound of amusement. That near ancient Fae, for all his age, nothing if not the epitome off his species. How very much she reminded him of Aiden in that moment with her huffs and grumps.

"Ah, Mon Cherie, I fear I did enjoy myself. As for the glasses they will be of more use to you then you anticipate. When they have saved your life the first time you may send me a gift of your choosing."

He very assured he was of those words. That near knowing simper resting upon his lips still as Harley slipped those glasses onto her face before declaring them more ornate than any she had ever owned. Perhaps their function was to shield her gaze and yet- could they not look good as they did it? The Frenchman rather assured Harley herself knew just how good they looked upon her even if she chose to deny it.

"I think they suit you- and no- those are yours to keep."

Harley's sudden insistence she already had a gun so prompted that fleeting glimmer of surprise to his own features and yet it was her very insistence that he was of little faith that only furthered that near dubious look he afforded her.

"One can never be too uptight about gun safety- one of us must be the responsible adult."

One eye lifted just so once more. That very implication that if he was uptight then she was childish a playfully teasing barb so effortlessly tossed towards her before he directed her attention back to those final few photographs. That image of Cobain and his near boyish features readily drawing that scowl to her features. Her assumption in this entirely correct once more. He was a child and yet one whose youthful rebellion, he was sure, had succeeded in annoying Risque in turn. Perhaps she had learned her lesson there. It was that photograph of Tetradore, however, that so seemed to prompt that more substantial look upon the woman's features. Matteo, this time, choosing his own words with distinct care. There was no need, just yet, for Harley to know of the extent off his relationship with Aiden. Matteo near curious in turn as to what the woman's uncensored pinion off his own son might be. The Frenchman so hardly anticipating any love lost between them in light off her own recent transition at Aiden's fangs and yet he could hardly deny knowing Aiden so well as he did. That very realisation seeming to prompt a genuine shock in Harley now. Those glasses pushed back if only to fit him more readily with her glare. Her irritated words hardly unanticipated. That disbelief within them equally so. Those words he offered her near gentle now.

"L'ennemi de mon ennemi est mon ami. That is 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' I do not condone what happened to you, there was no rightness in that, but nor was their choice on his part either. You do not have to like him, you do not have to spend time with him- but you can learn from him and I know you are not fool enough to ignore what he can offer you. He is agianst Risque, as you are, in that your goals are aligned. Please do not set him on fire. He is.....important."

To me. Matteo so hardly finishing that sentence all the same. The Frenchman merely allowing Harley to consider those words he had offered her now. After all, in that veritable battle agianst Risque that was so destined to become her life there was perhaps not better ally than Tetradore. Harley's very life sure to be far....more simple were she to find at least some common ground with her veritable Maker and yet too- Matteo so strove for at least some measure of understanding in the woman in an effort to lessen that very....grief he knew would afflict his own son over her transformation to begin with. For both of them, tonight, he so strove for that harmony. Only a singular picture now left upon that table to discuss. Matteo moving now to pluck that polaroid of Risque herself from the table. How many times had he looked at that very picture? That woman within it so.....vastly different from the one he had known so long ago. What existed now was merely a creature whom wore her skin. How....potent that hate within him was for her and yet how desperately he sought to control it now if only to further assist Harley in her own survival. That soft sigh leaving him then.

"And here we have She, the cause of it all."

How very rueful those words. A certain touch of bitterness so managing to lace those accented lyrics all the same and yet, in this, the ancient Fae chose his words distinctly carefully once more. Even Aiden did not know of the extent to which he knew Risque. Matteo unwilling to delve into such tales tonight.

"I cannot pretend to understand all her motives. She was corrupted a very long time ago. There is nothing left off her humanity at all. No love, no care, no compassion even if she feigns it at times. She is as addicted to her own pain as she is not offering it to others and yet I suspect that is because it is all that gives her feeling any more. I suspect that is what the cats are about...."

Those words were very near musings then, as if the Frenchman near spoke to himself upon those idle considerations. That theory of sorts spoke aloud then.

"I believe from what I have learned over the years that before she became a vampire, I suspect she was alone, save for a treasured pet. A house cat. He was her companion, her confident, her friend.....when she believed she had no others. I suspect she associates cats with the last powerful human emotions she ever felt. Not only are they tied to the last feelings she ever truly had but they are tied to feelings of loyalty, love and companionship- and they are powerful. A cat too, is not like a dog, it gives its loyalty only to those who it believes deserve it. To her it makes her feline collection only more justified. She knows she is forcing that loyalty from them and yet I suspect she enjoys the delusion that she is somehow deserving off it. That she means something to them as she did once to a house cat a long time ago. For all her depravity she is clinging, desperately, and perhaps even unknowingly to the last things that tied her to any true, real feeling. Cats. Because once a cat was the only thing standing between herself and what she fears most in the entire world- being alone."

How readily he offered those musings as if they were secondhand information. As if he had somehow learned such things over the years from tales of anecdotes rather then having stood within that room himself and watched it happen. How desperately lonely Risque had been when they had sent her away. Sent her away to die. How he remembered her still, clinging to Coeur. Petit Couer. Had that not been his name? That little tabby cat who had been the only one other then Matteo himself who had been unafraid to approach her, touch her or spend time with her as that Plague took hold. Couer had been her constant companion, he had favoured her above anyone and she had adored him for it. Couer, he suspected, the last thing Risque had ever loved after she had demanded Matteo himself leave. Maybe he should have done as she asked all those years ago. Maybe he should not have come back. Had his coming back meant nothing to her? He had come back for her and yet it had already been to late then. To late for her to see it. Maybe it hardly mattered now. Maybe he should not have taken Couer with him when he fled that final time. She probably still hated him for stealing her cat.

"Risque is beyond any salvation now- but she is living on borrowed time."

Those final words were quiet all the same. Matteo sighing once more before reaching for that shot glass again. The glass refilling at his very touch as he took another. That very drink seeming to shift his demeanour abruptly once more.

"Tell me, Mon Cherie, when was the last time you slept properly?"


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