Post by Alexander Hope on Aug 5, 2020 0:26:21 GMT -6
And the beats just kept getting missed. The tumbles kept rolling along. This needed to end to save face. Pitta's physical responses urged a moment of external, albeit mental prodding; yet there wasn't much time for it. Alexander's priority regarding the witch's previous points had still remained unsatisfied. As it turns out, he had forgotten to answer an inquiry or two! Such rookie mistakes! It was as if he were a mere Soldier rank anymore, given this conversation. Fumbling, bumbling, and streaking his composure against the figurative wall; just short of a nightmare, these days. The Father's mental image grimaced at himself. Was it something about this witch? Himself? Their respective lines of thinking came across a schism at some point to be sure.
Pitta reinstated her previous, pressing query. Evidently, despite Alexander's conversational blunders, there wasn't much comfort in further elaboration. However, the subject's shipment in question didn't require a hand-off. Perhaps Alexander was thinking too abstractly. In the end, Pitta didn't ensure nor claim that she was capable of everything. Just, of course, horrid odors and afterlife shenanigans, apparently. That's all that both Lex and the House were knowledgeable of at the moment. Nevertheless, the witch's matter-of-fact sub-lecture was drilled into Alexander quite frankly. Additionally, it seemed that only the city-type sorts of "hermits" couldn't ever stuff it. Thank god.
However, within her speech, the witch seemed to come under the conclusion that she'd be under an exclusivity deal if she were to be with the Hope House. A modest "mhm" was audible near the end of it all. Alexander's left index finger rose once Pitta had briefly concluded her rejoinder.
"Your magic is your own, Pitta. I didn't offer you a place within the Hope House just so that we'd have exclusive rights to your abilities. Supporting you, and asking of you that you would do the same for us, doesn't mean you couldn't assist anyone else."
It was the perfect excuse to refrain from wallowing in momentary failure. The situation was far from ideal; yet Pitta kept on rolling. That final set of information was crucial. This witch. This very witch. Should she either be doubling down on her bullshit or absolutely truthful -- it very well didn't matter. Details of such a feat only further cemented Pitta's overarching value. Unfortunately, the stipulation was simultaneously fair, albeit incredibly troublesome. "Personal investment" was something that harshly varies by person. And, from Alexander's position, that could only mean additional difficulty. The Hope House's greatest enticement(s) were primarily material gain; always has been. Inevitably, that applied to their big boss himself, as well.
Oh well. Money was still frequent enough to come by, even now. If not that, then something else could be by command -- or a wave of that pale green paper. Nevertheless: a lucrative find indeed. There may be a very joyous end to all this after all. It may not have been exactly what Alexander had hoped for, but perhaps something -- seemingly -- just as good. A nod guided the Father's movements absent-mindedly, somewhat in thought. One strange thought compelled him, just for a moment. Another time, perhaps. Not when its relatively awkward, at the very least. That would definitely be asking for too much. Now then, back to conceivable ideas. Procuring another capsule, seemingly from nowhere, Lex gave it click. A swift swipe at the crystalline-like vase had it vanish into smoke! It was contained once more. The Father lurched forward, leveraging Empy at the same angle as to not squish him.
"Allow me to rescind my rather forward request, then. I don't want this, of all things, to be the cause for any future contention between us."
The gardenia's capsule was brought to Alexander's right pocket. With a slip of the fingers, it was concealed.
"I... have my reasons for why I'd turn to magic for something so tediously simple. I don't find myself too comfortable discussing that at this time, though. Granted, I'm sure you don't find yourself as comfortable as I'd like speaking with me either, don't you?"
The truth never hurt, after all. Unless it got someone shot, that is. By Alexander, specifically. Eh, that privilege was reserved for non-family members anyway. The others typically get a harsh punishment. Only for harsh truths, at that. This wasn't the time to re-justify that. Blinking himself back to the present, Alexander arose past the edge of his seat. Standing upright once again, he provided one final bravado.
"Well, while this certainly hasn't been my best performance, I appreciate our meeting. Our relations may become important in the coming years. I'd hate to ruin that."
A slight attempt at clearing his throat could be heard.
"Its a shame you couldn't join us, but that's something for another time. We'll be in touch, whether you like it or not, Miss Pitta. Let's hope, yes?"
The Father gave one last, haphazard bow. With his unblinking avian friend in tow, Alexander swiftly turned upon his heel. His stride was typical, perhaps oddly confident, albeit hasty. Despite that, it hardly suggested the pinch and twitch striking his visage. Fruitlessly suppressing himself until he figured himself out of sight -- and earshot -- Alexander found himself stricken with a familiar sorrow. This chance was too precious. Nearly four-hundred of his own had been lost in two months. That Pitta better not be damn-near lying! That witch may be the only chance to apologize to any of them. An infuriating moisture blurred his vision. After all, it was his fault that those bastards, the Ancient Saiyans, could've ever gotten to his family; his overbearing chuckleheads. They and Alexander both must pay in their own way. No matter what, though, those fuckers get to pay first. It was no matter as to if it was from a bullet to their caveman skulls, or through their expulsion from this solar system!
Pitta reinstated her previous, pressing query. Evidently, despite Alexander's conversational blunders, there wasn't much comfort in further elaboration. However, the subject's shipment in question didn't require a hand-off. Perhaps Alexander was thinking too abstractly. In the end, Pitta didn't ensure nor claim that she was capable of everything. Just, of course, horrid odors and afterlife shenanigans, apparently. That's all that both Lex and the House were knowledgeable of at the moment. Nevertheless, the witch's matter-of-fact sub-lecture was drilled into Alexander quite frankly. Additionally, it seemed that only the city-type sorts of "hermits" couldn't ever stuff it. Thank god.
However, within her speech, the witch seemed to come under the conclusion that she'd be under an exclusivity deal if she were to be with the Hope House. A modest "mhm" was audible near the end of it all. Alexander's left index finger rose once Pitta had briefly concluded her rejoinder.
"Your magic is your own, Pitta. I didn't offer you a place within the Hope House just so that we'd have exclusive rights to your abilities. Supporting you, and asking of you that you would do the same for us, doesn't mean you couldn't assist anyone else."
It was the perfect excuse to refrain from wallowing in momentary failure. The situation was far from ideal; yet Pitta kept on rolling. That final set of information was crucial. This witch. This very witch. Should she either be doubling down on her bullshit or absolutely truthful -- it very well didn't matter. Details of such a feat only further cemented Pitta's overarching value. Unfortunately, the stipulation was simultaneously fair, albeit incredibly troublesome. "Personal investment" was something that harshly varies by person. And, from Alexander's position, that could only mean additional difficulty. The Hope House's greatest enticement(s) were primarily material gain; always has been. Inevitably, that applied to their big boss himself, as well.
Oh well. Money was still frequent enough to come by, even now. If not that, then something else could be by command -- or a wave of that pale green paper. Nevertheless: a lucrative find indeed. There may be a very joyous end to all this after all. It may not have been exactly what Alexander had hoped for, but perhaps something -- seemingly -- just as good. A nod guided the Father's movements absent-mindedly, somewhat in thought. One strange thought compelled him, just for a moment. Another time, perhaps. Not when its relatively awkward, at the very least. That would definitely be asking for too much. Now then, back to conceivable ideas. Procuring another capsule, seemingly from nowhere, Lex gave it click. A swift swipe at the crystalline-like vase had it vanish into smoke! It was contained once more. The Father lurched forward, leveraging Empy at the same angle as to not squish him.
"Allow me to rescind my rather forward request, then. I don't want this, of all things, to be the cause for any future contention between us."
The gardenia's capsule was brought to Alexander's right pocket. With a slip of the fingers, it was concealed.
"I... have my reasons for why I'd turn to magic for something so tediously simple. I don't find myself too comfortable discussing that at this time, though. Granted, I'm sure you don't find yourself as comfortable as I'd like speaking with me either, don't you?"
The truth never hurt, after all. Unless it got someone shot, that is. By Alexander, specifically. Eh, that privilege was reserved for non-family members anyway. The others typically get a harsh punishment. Only for harsh truths, at that. This wasn't the time to re-justify that. Blinking himself back to the present, Alexander arose past the edge of his seat. Standing upright once again, he provided one final bravado.
"Well, while this certainly hasn't been my best performance, I appreciate our meeting. Our relations may become important in the coming years. I'd hate to ruin that."
A slight attempt at clearing his throat could be heard.
"Its a shame you couldn't join us, but that's something for another time. We'll be in touch, whether you like it or not, Miss Pitta. Let's hope, yes?"
The Father gave one last, haphazard bow. With his unblinking avian friend in tow, Alexander swiftly turned upon his heel. His stride was typical, perhaps oddly confident, albeit hasty. Despite that, it hardly suggested the pinch and twitch striking his visage. Fruitlessly suppressing himself until he figured himself out of sight -- and earshot -- Alexander found himself stricken with a familiar sorrow. This chance was too precious. Nearly four-hundred of his own had been lost in two months. That Pitta better not be damn-near lying! That witch may be the only chance to apologize to any of them. An infuriating moisture blurred his vision. After all, it was his fault that those bastards, the Ancient Saiyans, could've ever gotten to his family; his overbearing chuckleheads. They and Alexander both must pay in their own way. No matter what, though, those fuckers get to pay first. It was no matter as to if it was from a bullet to their caveman skulls, or through their expulsion from this solar system!
The wet of his eyes trailed him, betraying the leader of the Hope House.
And so, we draw to a close. Alexander attempts to leave the thread in a very conflicted, yet weirdly content(?) mood. Thanks for the opportunity, Pitta . I do hope you enjoyed!
(Any feedback or questions are accepted, given that I'm available. 
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