Owner	Pose
Ares	Over the years Central Park has gone through many iterations. Parts of it have been changed, converted, and adapted to fit the demands of a changing New York, its greenery growing all the while. Baseball fields are along one part of the mall, basketball courts, artificial lakes come and go. But Heckscher Playground has only been around the last decade and some. It's an adventurous place, with wooden logs shaped into the form of a pirate ship. It has a small rocky hill in the middle of the area that kids can climb up and down, clamoring over fake stones, and there's even several miniature castles complete with ramparts that kids wage war over every day.     But of all of those things, the young blonde ten year old is finding he likes the classics the best as he flies back and forth on an older swing set. The chain clinks and clatters as he pushes it forwards, higher and higher. And as he reaches each new height he calls out, "Dad! Dad! Look at me!"     Only for a rather tall man who is seated on a park bench some distance off to lift his hand in a small wave and a half-smirk as he relaxes there. At times people will glance over at him. A few pairs of parents, an elderly couple. He's a man that doesn't initially stand out. But something about him draws the eye now and again.
Circe	She triggers every alarm, every erg of Godly power. There is no subtlety in her power in this moment. Normally, she is the definition of subtlety and insidious charisma. Not today. Today she wants him to know she is coming.     One moment she is not there, and then she is, walking the path towards him. Her disguise only fools mortals. She is, as always, perfect. Vivacious and inviting, yet untouchable and cool. Her violet tresses have been magicked red. Her clothing is impeccable and her heels clack on the concrete sidewalk as she approaches. She is bundled up in a very fashionable full length coat. There is a gesture with her left hand, not a magical one, but one of peace as she approaches with a single-minded intensity.     She moves towards the bench. Her sultry, low, powerful contralto is pitched to not carry too far past his ears. "I do not harm children." She reminds him, even as the cries of her own daughter echo in her ears. Her eyes are distant, for just a tiny second. "I came to talk, not fight. You do that, yes?"
Ares	The first hint of it brought him forwards with brow furrowed. His arms rested upon his knees and his fingers interlaced. No stranger to immortal seductresses he. He had known several over the course of millenia, each unique in her own undeniable way. For Circe it was perhaps a subtle scent, something tinged with ozone and power that was unlike the Olympians, or the Asgardians that had crossed his path.     But then he saw her as she walked down the path. His brown eyes met hers and a marked frown touched his features. She was an image of fashion and beauty. But him, he looked like the simplest of mortals. A man in those ubiquitous blue jeans, brown work boots, and a heavy red flannel jacket. The only thing that might stand out at a glance about his clothes... was the red and white santa hat that he wears that looks curiously almost home made.     She approaches and lifts her voice, his eyebrow quirks. "I've been known to meet another and not split their skull on the rare occasion." He then rises to his feet, hand uncurling to the side to gesture her towards the seat beside him.     Across the way, Alexander's voice lifts. "Dad! Dad look..." But his voice trails off even as he swings back and forth. He sees the woman with his father, but for now says nothing more.
Circe	She sits and delicately crosses ankles as she does so. "By all that I am, all that I was, and on the soul of my stolen daughter, you and your son on that swingset has nothing to fear from me this day unless you begin battle with me." She intones the oath tinged with magic as she does so. She swore on her stolen daughter, and that means she is serious, as does her strident inflection     Circe's voice softens. "I do not harm children. That is more your family's way of doing business." Her left hand rises again. She might be willing to score points, but there is only so much of her persona that she can put aside. "You must have come to this conclusion yourself, otherwise why here? Why now? Why him?"     Her eyes are drawn to the child. Her features soften. "He's beautiful. You should be proud."
Ares	A hand lifts, as if brushing past the words or the compliment. At her glance she can see the young blonde boy slowing his swinging just a bit. His own eyes narrow a touch, as if espying her and not liking what he's seeing for whatever reason. But he extends his legs, sneakers dragging over the dirt to slow his speed until he can hop off. He doesn't approach them, for now he instead starts to move along the side of the playground, moving towards several groups of children.     The man who had been Ares, and to some still was, focuses fully on her and seems to take his time voicing what words he chooses. He says, "I am going by the name John Aaron these days." He offers, not directly asking for what he should call her, but simply executing that required step of the dance.     Turning away he settles into the seat, eyes drifting over where Alexander was, expression sharpening for a moment as he can't locate him at first. But then espies him. He nods to himself and then adds sidelong to Circe, "My family is displeased with me. Has been for a fair amount of time. What brings you here. Now?" His eyes focus fully upon her.
Circe	"It is a new age of heroes." Circe blithely lies. She's good at it, but he's no idiot. "Time might not impact us as much as mortals, but it does keep moving. Prophesies turn. I might die soon." That bothers her a little. "So I will either forestall that, and live forever, or have to go back to war with your family in order to make them pay for what they did to my daughter before I am slain."     Her perspective has certainly altered from the princess of Colchiss she once was. Her lips twist into a slight frown. "I am not ready to die, but I have had many more years than i was initially allotted. If this is what must be, so be it. I shall attempt to remain alive, but I have seen the cost of hubris in such things."     She looks to him. "I do not want to force the issue. you know better than even I the damage and upheaval my war renewing will cause. I am not cruel for the sake of cruelty. I would far prefer to do things as they are, with subtlety and quietly. I do not want to break a world only to die and not be able to heal and rebuild it. If it comes to war, know my hand was forced."     She looks back out at his son. Her eyes are sad as she admits, "A part of of me is tired of it. Then I remember her, and I am sad and furious once more. My grief has sustained me through the ages, but it has tempered my more cruel moments. I mean no harm to your son. If it comes to war, stand aside. I will not bring war to you, John." She says the name a little awkwardly.
Ares	His eyebrows lift slightly, a small hint of surprise on some level, perhaps trepidation on another. He turns his head away, gaze sweeping their surroundings as he maintains that forward seat with his elbows upon his knees, his tall frame lowered subtly by that posture. He's still the being she remembers, unchanged for the most part though bathed in less blood and a victim of an utter lack of fashion sense.     For a moment he chews the inside of his cheek, weighing words and decisions. A glance askance is given before he begins. "It has been some time since we spoke. And for us that so seemingly an ephemeral thing." His lip twists slightly, but he presses on, eyes away from her. "I turned my back on my family. Moved by anger, outrage. But such is our way, for we are always so very dramatic."     He watches Alexander from afar, even as the young boy gets in line to use the slide, John continues to speak. "I came here, have been enjoying a lovely illusion of mortality. Its culmination being in my son." He looks back to her, "Only in my absence my father raised one of my other children in my place. His role being mine, he served it well. But when he learned of me he threatened the boy." A small nod is given in Alexander's way.     "So we battled, and I slew him." A hand lifts and again waves to the side, pushing those experience and memories away. "My father declared I was no longer of Olympus, and so you see me as I am now." A small exhalation is heard, a half-sardonic laugh perhaps. "So, if you are inclined to march on Olympus. No, I will not stand against you."     There's a pause and he looks across the playground, his smirk growing slightly. "Depending on my mood I might march with you."
Circe	"I will not harm your son." Circe says quietly, repeating it. It's apparently important to her. "You have reckonings ahead of you. So do I. We cannot be the villains in so many tales, and in fact and not have reckonings due. I think I paid mine ahead, but I am not so naive as to think that someone out there will hurt me again. No woman is an island, except me. I will not say the isolation is itself not some reckoning for an ill I perpetuated. One does not become such as we without blood on our hands."     She flicks her gaze towards him. "Before I march, I will let you know. I make no bones that I will be queen after it, and I make no bones that I will rule. The manner of that rule might be softer than many think. I have lost so much of my humanity, but..."     Her admission comes hesitatntly. Her voice too soft. "I think the best vengeance might be ruling well." Her gaze almost nervously flicks back at him. "I will be ruthless to win, but I want to be the sort of Queen who is an inspiration. To be as Zeus wanted himself portrayed rather than the tyrant he was in fact. But to win, to rule, and to lead mankind to glory..." Her eyes flick down at her hands which she sets on her lap.
Ares	"Circe," There, she is named. As if a bridge had been crossed, incapable of going back. "Our time is past." He looks at her and she can see the slight twist to his features, as if he were surprising himself with these thoughts and further so by voicing them. He crinkles his nose slightly. "I would not be saddened at Zeus' reign being cut short. But to take such a stance, to seize a place of prominence amongst mortality. That is no longer ours."     He again chews on the inside of his cheek absently, but his features are almost annoyed, as if he didn't care for the taste. "My only desires of late have been to maintain some sort of status quo for the boy so he does not endure all of the madness that his birthright entails. That goes for the world to a certain extent."     A small snort comes from him, then he adds. "Asides, there are enough threats from without before we address the insanity from within. Much has passed this last handful of years."
Circe	"Originally I was one of them. I became this because of your fa--." She starts to bluster and protest, but she stops herself. "I came to talk. Not harangue. You will forgive me." It is not a request. She might be somewhere on a road that leads to a place like where he is, maybe. She is definitely not yet where he is. She is clinging to an old hurt.     Her features settle back into neutrality. "He is a beautiful boy." She allows herself. "I can appreciate your wanting him to be outside of this. For my part, I will do my utmost to avoid you and yours in the conflict. I will not drag you in, and I will do what I can to make sure he gets to determine his own fate."     Her breath is drawn slowly inwards. She tilts her head to regard him. "Not for you." She admits. "Not for him, even. For my daughter."
Ares	And that causes his surrender, to the dialogue if not the sentiment entire. He flares his hands slightly, letting go of his side of the discussion as he murmurs. "Then do as you must, Circe." He looks sidelong at her as he pushes himself to his feet, rising to his full considerable height, enough to gain him a few second glances from the others in the area even as he gives her a nod.     "My sphere of influence, though diminished, is safe for you to pass through. Such as it is." He glances to the side, as if looking over her shoulder for a moment, perhaps his gaze distancing to thoughts of the future. A small frown mars his features before his brown eyes find hers again. "But grant me one boon. But one." Those last two words are given a touch hurried, as if to cut off any protest.     "Before you set irrevocable foot to path, grant me a few words counsel. Perhaps it will aid, perhaps not. But the potential of simply another possibility can reassure many should they take your actions as an ill."
Circe	She draws herself to her full height, but he still dwarfs her. Her fluid motion is languid, and her lips are pursed in perfect, contrite fury. She regards him, her eyes are all but glowing in anger and malcontent.     There is something in his mannerisms that eventually make her ease off. There is familiarity in the old ways and faces, even if circumstances and relations change. "I shall speak with you again." She consents. "I will listen to your counsel, but you should know I am swept up in prophesy. The more you entangle yourself in it, the more you might suffer for it. It cannot hurt though, to listen to a reformed sinner if I seek to do ill for a higher purpose." She is not insane. Not in the conventional sense regardless. She gives a queenly nod to the former Olympian.     "You are the better man than your father. That speaks ill of you as a God." She admits it, "But it raises you in my estimation. Your son. Does he require tutoring? Or is he your son fully? Is he more inclined to the mystic arts?" Of course she wants to get a hook or two in the boy. It is what she is, but she is also not one to torment children.
Ares	"He is mine, though I seek to keep his childhood as... normal as I can. He seems to have more affection for X-boxes than for magick." That much is said as the man looks over towards the playground where, unfortunately, Alexander seems to be giving Circe the stink eye. Some form of jealousy or perhaps some instinctive dislike. But whatever it is, he quickly loses that expression as his father calls out.     "Alexander, we're going." It's enough that causes the boy to break into a jog in their direction even as Ares looks back to her, "I have learned to accept the weight of my decisions." He gives her a nod, "So I am aware what my boon may cost."     That said it's only then that the blonde haired child finishes his rush up to them both. "Come, Alexander. We're going. Say goodbye."     The blue eyes of the boy meet Circe's as he looks up at her and he says, "Ma'am." And accompanies it with a nod.     "Til another time, Circe." That said he begins to step away.
Circe	"I do not even know what that means." Circe says softly. Her frown is ephemeral. "I shall rectify that." She decides.     For her part, she does not frown at the child. She regards him seriously. "Young sir." She greets him gravely. Her smile is sad, "You are a good judge of character." She compliments Alexander. She turns as she moves to leave. 'Good day. I know you keep your promises. So do I." She moves off, still far too wrapped up in guilt, and clothed in ancient hurt and rage to walk his path.