Matteo

It's tough to be a god

Your Lordship? Loath as I am to interrupt your.....activities, will you be departing shortly?

Gregory's decidedly dubious voice prompted the Frenchman to glance upward from the ring drawn into the dirt in front of him. The near ancient Fae had spent the better part of the afternoon sitting cross legged in the farmyard at the rear of his vast estate, several children making up the rest of that circle. The eclectic group near fixated upon the game of marbles that had been viciously fought for several hours now. Matteo was certain he had been winning....at some point. When he had started to lose he had no idea. The game had changed considerably since he last remembered playing. Then again- the children did seem apt to change the rules....constantly. The Frenchman good-naturedly content to humor them with that easy simper upon his features. "It's your turn Matteo!" A boy no older than seven enthusiastically strove to draw the Fae's attention away from Gregory once more as he gestured toward the marbles. Matteo frowned ever so slightly, the Frenchman selecting a marble from the pile beside him before lining up for that shot. The glass ball flicked easily from his fingers to collide with one in the ring- sending it rolling out of the circle- a ready look of satisfaction finding the man's features then as he reached for his prize- only for a small girl to protest loudly. "No! No! If you knock it out it means you don't get it!" Matteo paused, his eyes lifting upward in mock surprise, his hand gesturing to the pile of colorful glass balls at the girl's feet.

"Oui, but when you knocked one out you got to keep it, non?"

The little girl bit nervously at her lip before glancing toward her older brother with the clear belief her sibling was, in fact, the authority on such things as important as the playing of marbles. The small boy puffed out his chest, his head nodding with this bestowed authority. "Well, you didn't knock the ball out the right way, Matteo. If you knock it out the wrong way then we get to keep the marble." The Frenchman glanced around that group, several children nodding enthusiastically, as if this newly formed rule was, in fact, a long established basis.

"Ah, I see, so no matter what I do, I do not win, oui?"

An eruption of giggles exploded from that group, Mattoe's eyes rolling good naturedly all the same. Those coloured balls meant a great deal to the farm's children. Far more than they did himself. After all, an entire bag of them cost little more than a few Francs and yet they were a decided treat for the children. Matteo seeing little need not to let them win several of those coloured balls each if only to spare their parents needing to buy new ones when the children inevitably lost them. The sound of Gregory clearing his throat once more prompted the Frenchman to glance upward at his manservant once more

"Where is it, Gregory, that you feel I need to be? If I leave now I will surely lose all my marbles."

"It is far too late for that..." That very sentence was nearly muttered beneath the warlock's breath, prompting laughter from the children once more as Matteo afforded the man a dubious look. "You have dinner, Your lordship. With Miss Mira." The very realization that it was, in fact, Wednesday, seemed to dawn upon the Frenchman then. The near ancient Fae hurriedly rose from the ground, his hands dusting the earth from his jeans. Sacrebleu but he would be late! Ah, how difficult the concept of 'late' was to explain to those left waiting when they knew so well of his ability to see the future. Alexander had so surely never let him forget it over the years. Gregory moved to produce a tie from his jacket pocket, the Warlocklng having come to anticipate his master's antics as Matteo reached to take it- fastening it neatly around his neck. The children offered what remained of his marbles before the Frenchman moved to break into a light jog, hurrying around toward the front of his estate. He had left his jacket....somewhere near the front door. "Matteo!" The sound of his name prompted the Frenchman to pause, turning to face the young woman who hurried towards him, pressing a basket of freshly picked apples into his arms before she stepped backward, offering a respectful bow. "We have had a bountiful harvest this year, Your lordship, thanks to your kindness in allowing us to plant some of our trees on your land, please, take these as an offering of our gratitude"

"Ah, Mon Amie, that is most kind, but I-"
"Please, My Lord, I insist."

The silver of the frenchmans gaze so readily met the young woman's own before he nodded, sheer delight at having her gift accepted distinctly clear upon her features before she hurried away, Matteo turning only to nearly collide with another of his servants. Bernadette. One of the women who attended the crops. "Matteo! Please, take some of the honey we harvested this morning for the far paddock, i is glorious this year, you were so kind in helping us to restore the flower beds, it is the least we can do"

"Oui, thank you, Mademoiselle Bernadette."

The young woman grinned readily at him before turning to near skip back to the orchard, the Fae hurrying back toward the front of the house then, a distinct effort made to attempt to avoid any more of his grateful staff. Only for his name to be shouted a third time. Stewart. One of the livestock farmers who rented the north field from him. The man was entirely too eager to present him with a whole string of freshly made pork sausages- the fresh meat pressed into his arms with equal exuberance, along with a wheel of cheese, a jar of pickled onions and several fresh eggs. It was, after all, very much the way of his people to show their gratitude through food and yet such endeavors were perhaps not entirely as conducive to improving his lateness. His ready thanks was offered to the man in turn- Matteo certain he could no longer fit his jacket within his arms. The hour was far too late to put away all the gifted produce- perhaps it might have another use. The Frenchman was simply content to summon his affinity then, teleporting abruptly away from Chambrod and into the city of Sacrosanct. The Fae landing smoothly and effortlessly at Mira's front door- only for it to swing open but a moment later to reveal the striking young woman. That bounty of food was passed from his arms and directly into hers, a ready grin upon his features, those accented words so easily parting his lips.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Mira! I hope this evening finds you well. Please, forgive my lateness, it took me some moments to decide which gifts you would find most satisfying for hosting myself. I look very forward to seeing what you have made for us this evening."

Ah....but what she did not know would surely not hurt her. That easy grin so hardly faltered from his features.