915/Visit to the Lux!

Visit to the Lux!
Date of Scene:	11 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Ares

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Lucifer has posed:
Lux is back in New York.

Or, rather, the nearest access to the demesne that Lux occupies is 'near' New York again. The club's a funny place-- it exists coterminately in multiple locations in time and space at once, and blends in almost everywhere it goes. Mortals think of it as one more nightclub.

Immortals know it as well as they do the Oblivion Bar, a 'nexus' point in many worlds at once.

So for Ares, Lux isn't a pleasantly hidden gem. It's a glowing metaphysical mass in the middle of New York, nearly a siren of barely hidden magical energy. A god such as him has no trouble sensing the many folding points of multiple worlds all at once, even as he walks up to the door that looks otherwise perfectly in place in the city.

The bouncer at the door is just a mortal, but behind him is a half a dozen spectres existing right on the edge of mortal awareness-- formidable spectral mercenaries, and they rattle in unison when Ares arrives.

An elfin woman approches and bows courteously to Ares when he arrives at the club. "Ares, Lord of Battle," she intones, bowing low. "Welcome to Lux. My master bids you welcome," she says, softly. "May I escort you to him and announce you-- or are you merely here to enjoy the hospitality of the club?"

Ares has posed:
    The profile that Ares maintains is rather low. His own metaphysical signature has been obscured over time, rendered muddled to most though primarily those of his own particular pantheon. For when one turns their back upon the court of Zeus, they tend to not wish to be found. It was for this reason that Lux had been something of a double-edged sword to the deity turned union contractor. It was wise to avoid the place, to not draw attention to one's existence considering the stories that had passed about the club, the possibility of chance encounters. Yet there was an appeal there. An appeal to the unique which always plays as a siren song to the long lived.
    It was an evening, Monday? Perhaps chosen for the possibility that some of the club's mysteries might be delved into when the number of clients indulging their various whims might be on the low side. Yet even on days when the place might imaginably be quiet... it was anything but. At least to John Aaron's perception.
    He stepped to the bouncer, the two men giving a nod to each other as is often shared by people of their particular build and height. But then he was approached by the young woman and he gives her another nod as well as a rumbled greeting, "You enjoy my thanks," He gives to her as he accepts her offer. "If he is indisposed please do not press to him any urgency upon my arrival. A few words would perhaps be enjoyable, but I would not interfere."
    For a moment he looks around his surroundings, eyes narrowing a moment, then he turns back to her and offers, "For now a place to rest, a drink. That is all I would require."

Lucifer has posed:
"Of course, Lord Ares, and he is expecting you," the lady assures Ares, bowing and escorting him past the bar and towards a heavy, red-velvet door that looks heavily padded and insulated from the noise. Two more bouncers protect the doorway-- and the gargoyle frozen over it radiates enough magical presence that the stone shifts despite being otherwise quiescient. If one can only have as much preparation as one has foresight, then Lucifer is /extremely/ prepared.

Through two doors and into a spacious and immaculate suite, all white marbel with breathaking details. Inlays of lapis, gold leaf, and art and iconography from many different cultures. Greek included-- and older. Wearing all white, save for a red tie and matching pocket square, Lucifer sits at a three quarter desc, and turns to look at Ares when the god enters.

"Ares," the Archangel says, getting to his feet and moving to meet the God of War. "It's been a while. C'mon in, take a seat. Cocktail? Snacks?" he inquires, looking to the girl to take Ares' order. "I've got some distilled ether of Hope fresh from the Astral plane, if you're looking for something more substantial. We also have mozarella sticks," he grins. "Almost as good."

Considerately, the angel has crammed only a sliver of his power into the meatsuit offering Ares a handshake. The immense gravity of his presence extends into the future and the past, tangible only to Ares' deific senses.

Ares has posed:
    The man in his jeans and flannel jacket seems so terribly out of place when compared to such opulence and lovely attention to detail. He stands out against the sculptures, against the iconography as this creature of the now, presenting itself as what mortals would describe as mundane. Yet he has an affection for the work, the decor. A small smile lifts as he looks about, allowing himself to be guided.
    Then into the suite he looks across the way and espies Lucifer. A hand lifts in greeting but also to stay the man from unsettling himself too much on his account, "Please. Go to no trouble, I rarely step out of late these last hundred years and I thought I might take a moment to indulge." The tales of the man's manner on battlefields, in war rooms, facing opponents grim... they do not match with this presentation advanced by the erstwhile Olympian. "Some vodka, only if you will share it with me."
    The shake is accepted, and with John Aaron it is a business like shake, two pumps, done. No posturing nor need to press, and perhaps thankfully so with the Lightbringer. The tall man spares a smile to the elfin woman as she departs, a nod of thanks given then he gestures for Lucifer to get back to his seat, for truly he wishes to be no trouble. A few steps and he takes up a seat opposite the other being masquerading as man.
    "I have heard such tales and rumors and felt I would at least see what there is to be seen."

Lucifer has posed:
It's a comfortable little seating arrangement. And the artwork on display-- real art. Not just stylish conversation pieces, but surprisingly deft sculptures and paintings that were clearly selected by someone with an eye for the aesthetic. It's probably why the room is so cool and mostly white; to focus the eye on color and motion of the paintings and sculptures.

Lucifer sits across from Ares and in moments, the girl returns with two lowballs and a decanter of vodka. She pours two fingers for Ares and two for Lucifer, putting both drinks where the men can reach, and retreats to a spot outside the office.

"And to what shall we drink, old friend?" the angel inquires, tilting his glass towards Ares in an offer of toast.

Ares has posed:
    "Ah," Ares accepts his drink and then lifts it to Lucifer, "Times of change, Lucifer." He extends the glass towards the man awaiting the matching clink. "Times of change, for I am afraid they are upon us." He'll hold the glass aloft then once the sound is heard he'll tilt it back and downs it. There's a resonant glassy clink as he sets his drink down, then lightly brushes at his lip with the first knuckle of his hand before allowing himself to exhale contentedly.
    "Not to be terribly cryptic. I am sure you have noticed. Matters accelerating, this curious manifestation of powers amongst a broader cross-section of mortality." He nods to the server for a refill and awaits her to do so before lifting the drink again to Lucifer, no toast this time as it's important to use speed and strength of liquor to gain the hint of a buzz with people such as themselves. "Interesting times at the least."

Lucifer has posed:
"If it's any comfort, this is -entirely- expected," Lucifer tells Ares, sympathetically. "Ahead of schedule, if one were to ask me-- but expected. Mortals in general are adaptable, unpredictable creatures. Combine that with an adverse environment and some predatory threats, they grow and react in their own way. Survival above all else," he tells the God of War. "It's one thing they do fairly well, the little monkeys," he concedes.

"And how does Olympus feel about this?" he inquires, a blonde brow tilting. "I'm sure you know matters are afoot among many of you godlings. The pantheons rumble when mortals who can match you wander the Earth at will. Having near-gods among humans diminishes your reputation slightly."

Ares has posed:
    "Ah, you aren't aware?" Ares tilts his head towards Lucifer, he heaves a small chuff of exhaled breath then shakes his head. "You are much more likely to know the will of Olympus than I. I had a falling out with Zeus some two centuries ago. Turned my back on the whole mess." He gestures with his glass, movement precise not to spill any of it as he takes another drink. "I was tired of the games played."
    He takes a breath, then follows it with a downed drink. The glass is set down and pushed aside for the moment, blocking the refill with his hand and giving the server a nod allowing departure should it be needed. "Yet you are aware as any that the Olympians had been turning their eyes away for some time. Now I imagine their attentions are on other realms, or other entertainments." He flares a hand to the side, as if dismissing his own words as ephemeral.

Lucifer has posed:
"A bit short sighted," Lucifer tells Ares. "I mostly blame Zeus for hoarding his gift of foresight-- but then again, the demiurge giveth and taketh away," he says, his voice laden with irony. "Your kith and kin filled a role for humans for many milennia while the world readied itself for them. They needed a way to explain the sun, the wind, the sky-- legends to replace science. Now, science is replacing legends. They search for particles that will bring them closer to a deeper understanding of the universe. They might even make it, if they can refrain from killing themselves with some foolish weaponized plague or the like," he says, eyes rolling expressively.

"The power of their worship gave the godlings strength. Without it... well. If we were on wall street, my old friend, I'd tell you to diversify your holdings," he advises Ares. "You're not looking for work, are you?" he inquires with a tilted brow. "I'm sure I could find something to keep you occupied, but your dear father's as parsimonious as mine when it comes to sharing in decisions. He'd likely take it poorly. Not that I'm above handling that, in fact I'd relish a reason to thumb my nose at Zeus from outside Olympus."

Ares has posed:
    Again he waves off those words, "I have no desire for any of it, and I am sure you are telling me more fool me. But all I want now is some small slice of their lives. Some small part of this existence that is mine and to leave all the rest of it behind."
    The tall man leans to the side, his seat creaking with mild complaint as he looks sidelong towards some of the decor, letting his thoughts wander. "I admire your effort to rail against your 'fatherly' figure, Lucifer. To continue the fight." He reaches towards the bottle left behind and tilts it on its side, letting it gurgle slowly into the glass before he sets it back down. But not before he quirks an eyebrow silently towards Lucifer, offering to refill his own if he should wish.
    "To be honest I doubt the old man knows I've gone." Which might be an understatement, but it is rare that Ares has a chance to speak to a peer of a sort. "But no, thank you, no. I have a job that I perform passingly well and it suits me." A smirk is seen for a moment, then he shakes his head.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer accepts the offer of a drink with a nod and a gesture of thanks. Ever the soul of courtesy. "It's an endless struggle, Ares, quite literally as old as time," he reminds the godling, wryly. "As much as the mortals can't wrap their minds around it, the Creator /is/ capable of mistakes. Otherwise, what's the point of all this?" he asks, gesturing vaguely with his fingertips at the world around them. "A perfect recipe can only go one direction, after all. Holy boredom is a good and sufficient justification for granting free will. I frankly hope that the Grand Design works as my Father predicts. But it'd be lazy in the extreme to just sit back and /watch/. If Humanity is to inherit the Earth, they'll earn it with every labored step and body in the ground, or I'll see them ground into dust. The inheritors of Creation will either rise to the challenge, or... my brothers and I will watch the sun set on this multiverse and shepherd it into the light again. It makes no difference to me. Ten billion years I've circled this rock, waiting for interesting things to start happening. Now it's at least getting fun," he laughs.

Ares has posed:
    A small shake of his head and a chuckle slips from him as Ares takes a breath. "I envy you your capacity to perceive the larger picture, Lucifer. I have become a creature of the moment, and though I know my view is narrow I feel a certain..." He scritches a fingertip along the curve of his jaw, the stubbly bristles scratching a bit. "Pride in leaving it behind. Perhaps it is a desire to emulate the monkeys, to just have my own niche of reality held to my own desires. Perhaps it is even fear, a desire to not set at play against my own kind."
    A breath, then a wave of a hand. "In any case, I intend to proceed as I am. Yet if something terribly interesting comes along, I would hear you." With that said he sets the glass down.
    "As for now, however, I have taken up entirely too much of your time. Good luck in your war, Lucifer. I will avail myself of perhaps a meal and then be on my way." He offers his hand again, the same shake if it's accepted, and then he turns to depart.