Matteo

It's tough to be a god

There was a sweetness to her words. Her Russian accent lingering strongly upon each offered syllable as she lent into his embrace, her lips pressing softly to either side of his cheek in an age-old greeting and yet one they both seemed inclined to preserve amongst an age uninclined to appreciate its delicate nuances. His own words seemed to prompt her feminine gaze to narrow with skepticism and yet her good humor remained distinctly clear as she insisted that she had come to visit him before Alexander out of adoration rather than her desire to speak of scandalous things she might wish to keep from her Father. How readily her reply seemed to prompt a soft chuckle from the ancient Fae all the same, the simper upon his features hardly faltering as his head nodded in agreement.

"Ah, Mon Cherie, you do not speak of your adoration for me nearly enough. You know I enjoy hearing it."

That teasing simper seemed to brighten all the more as Matteo moved to offer his arm to his niece, those imposing front doors closed behind them as he moved to guide the way through the opulent luxury of his chateau. A luxury they had both long since come to anticipate from one another. Those french furnishings and artisan decor were very near ignored by the pair as Matteo led them into the kitchen and toward the marbled island bench that featured as the very epicenter of that room- providing a plethora of workspace for the Fae. Cooking, for well over a thousand years, having taken up the vast majority of the Frenchmans time. It was, Alexander argued, the only skill he had bothered to perfect. Anastasia settled herself at the bench as she had done but a thousand times over in turn, the soft clatter of her heels upon the floor as she discarded them- giving way to her true comfort within his presence. Gregory, as was his manservants habit, was quick to greet their guest. Anastasia was one of the few the man seemed to find some tolerance for. The aged warlock took a ready delight in Ana's mannerisms, her culture, her graceful and regal bearing and natural eloquence- the very things he was inclined to argue Matteo lacked. An argument the Frenchman was willing to admit was perhaps not entirely unjustified. Grerogy had spent the better part of yesterday attempting to remind the Fae of several appointments with parliament and the head of state while he sat cross legged in dirt with the village children and a truly intense game of marbles. A game Gregory had not at all appreciated the difficulty off.

Matteo's eyes rolled lightly as the pair exchanged a warm greeting- the warlock near begging Ana to keep Matteo 'occupied' as he made his way out of the kitchen. His words earned him a soft snort of derision from the Fae as he worked effortlessly to slice the baguette he had summoned smoothly to his hands.

"Do not listen to him, Ana. He is merely upset that I was late to Parliament yesterday."

How or why he had been late was carefully omitted from that very sentence, Matteo moving to pass his niece a glass of red wine then, a second summoned for himself. Its rich dryness was a favorite of them both and one he was inclined to share with few others. The young woman across from him took that glass readily, swirling its contents to best discern its aroma before lifting it to her lips. That sliced bread was placed neatly to one side, Matteo reaching then for several cheeses of varying intensity to rest upon the board beside the bread. Some champagne ham perhaps would suit it well, a few slices of prosciutto and several pastilla's- that russian fruit treat long since having been a favored of his nieces and one Matteo so rarely made for anyone save Ana herself. The Frenchman had perfected that recipe for her alone. It was several moments longer before Ana chose to speak, answering his query on just where she had been these past months. War. A word their entire family, perhaps, knew better than most. It's very rigors, or so it seemed, having kept her within her homeland as she strove to remove the bureaucracy of a government she had long believed corrupt.

"Oui, the matter with Ukraine has caused, how you say, discord? Through all of Europe. France does as France does and imposed its sanctions. The President seeks my console but then does not care to hear it. Perhaps, oui, your methods are better."

One eye rose upward near teasingly once more as Matteo regarded his niece, glancing upward from that charcuterie board to reach for his own glass of wine before bringing it to his lips. A homemade bowl of french onion dip placed in the center of that prepared food before the board was pushed gently between them. Such conversation, he was certain was better had over food, the Frenchman shifting to settle upon his own stool opposite his niece then as she willed from him a promised secret. One she was sure she was owed.

"Da, you are- but tell me, did you succeed in your dismantling?"

Ah, but how surely he already knew the answers to such things, Matteo so simply curious to hear such things from Ana herself before contemplating the manner of his own promised secrets. No being with all the world so surely holding more of those then Matteo himself as a simper of decided impishness found his lips once more.

"Perhaps I will share with you a rather grand secret, one you might use agianst your father when he chastises your action- which we both know he will do."

Praise and Alexander were not words inclined to go together. The often irritable Macedonian eternally seemed assured that most of life's pursuits were a waste of time if they did not involve conquering a nation or taming a horse. Ana's efforts in Russia would likely be met with a scowl- if only because she had not invited him to join her directly else sought his counsel beforehand. Matteo, in turn, inclined to offer his niece a singular ammunition of sorts to use agianst her Father.

"Do you know where Alexander was earlier this year?"

It was something of a rhetorical question, perhaps. After all, Ana had been within Russia and likely unconcerned with where Alexander spent his time outside of the coffee house he continued to operate out of what, Matteo was certain, was some misadvised effort to spend his time. The pair not having communicated their intentions to one another those past months and yet, ah, but how Matteo knew all things. The Frenchman paused then, placing a slice of vintage cheese upon his piece of bread- as if he merely desired to eat rather than produce dramatic effect for his tale.

"He was in Mongolia...."

Such a thing, perhaps, was not terribly unusual. Alexander was often inclined to travel upon a whim. The Mongolian Derby a source of fascination for the ancient hunter. Matteo seemed to pause once more- the man distinctly determined not to be hurried before at last glancing upward to meet the gaze of his niece once more.

"He was searching....for a unicorn."

That singular piece of information was sure to have the desired effect, that look of disbelief upon Ana's face prompting a ready laughter from the Frenchman then. Alexander, after all, was perhaps the last being upon the earth itself to be taken in by something as ridiculous as a unicorn.

"He has not seen one, mind you, non, his horse merely thought he did and Alexander fancifully thought to indulge him, it seems. If he seeks to give you difficulties over your trip to Russia, perhaps you might suggest that chasing unicorns is a less valued use of time..."