The Wind and The Sun


isis2_icon.gif diogenes_icon.gif

Scene Title The Wind and The Sun
Synopsis After the two get away from the crazy non-sense earlier, a Greek philosopher and an Egyptian deity hurry home.
Date September 9, 2009

An Alleyway in Upper East Side

Still dressed in that foppish dark suit of his, with the bag o' stolen goodies tossed over his shoulder and resting on his back, its neck held by just one gloved hand, Diogenes hurries along a dark and fairly narrow alleyway alongside Isis, fortunately having left the apartment building where their attempted burglarly was only partially successful. His hand free of holding the bag is occupied with his mysteriously acquired handgun, swung back and forth by the momentum of his hurried steps.

He was quiet up until now; the location seemed remote enough and not a single soul was in sight (neither of man nor of any animal), and so he finally spoke up, throwing a glance in his friend's general direction. "What's that comment about Kaylee supposed to mean?", he asks with a slowly growing smirk. "Didn't figure you for the jealous sort."

Shhhhhtttttt. - Her heels skid across the gravel as she fumbles awkwardly to an abrupt halt.

"Jealous?" She pops an eyebrow - that when paired with her pursed lips easily expresses her bitter state. Hazel eyes keep a line on the end of the alley stretching off in front of them. "Of her? Please." She hooks her thumbs into her pockets and resumes walking - her strut just a tad too casual to be convincing. "As for my comment - what do you think it meant? Huh?"

The alleyway might be narrow, but it's certainly long. Most assuredly long enough for two individuals, whose sanity is very much questionable, to have a discussion of varying degrees of bizarreness. Do not be deceived by the trite topic of jealousy, for both are known to unexpectedly turn the steering wheel and drive the vehicle that is a conversation completely outside social norms.

"I don't know, she's pretty cute. Has a sledgehammer of a nose, but so do I— kind-of-sort-of. And I have a thing for blondes. What do you think? Think we'd make a good couple?" He does not even attempt to hide this as mockery and an attempt to jab at whatever jealousy that actually might be hiding within the reaches of Isis's mind. In fact, he even looks at her, slowing his pace, his tongue just barely poking out from between his lips.

Isis's mood was not to Tom's benefit, that was obvious in the quick adjustment of piercing emerald orbs back unto his visage. "Blondes?" That wicked grin. There it is again. Finely arranged on her peachy lips. "Well, if you're standards are so low - I'd hate to think that I've been wasting my time with a guy whole chase the nearest bleached tart," she quips with a teasing tone, despite the fact that the words might be a bit more harsh that your average jest.

She lifts her chin with a little flick that banishes her curls back over her shoulders and sets a stubborn air about her, before focusing her attention back on their destination.

"Ouch. Two to one. You're winning."

His pace returns to its former speed, but his grin remains plastered on his lips. He enjoyed these games with Isis; the fiery woman actually managed to not only play verbal dodgeball with him, but not lose her ground. Most others were affected by his harsh, stinging remarks, and their parries were often accounted for desperate struggles by Diogenes. But this redhead was something entirely different.

"Well, I won't lie; I do have a thing for blondes, but she's too— " He falls silent, his grin waning rather quickly. "Let's put it simply. I like you much more, and if I were into the whole girlfriend-boyfriend concept, I'd have lunged headfirst into asking you if you'd be mine." The young man looks over to Isis, now known to the world as Joanne. He looks her over curiously, as if he sees her for the first time. And then his eyes focus on the distant end of the alleyway, instead. "Alas, you're the wind. Impossible to tame, impossible to claim. And I am the Sun— alone, in the centre of impossible to understand events and occurences. Alone. Mistrusting. And really eager to scorch Earth."

Mine? The comment slows her, it is the last which makes her halt completely - this time without the angry hiss of her heels. It is as if she loses momentum, struck by the surprising sincerity and creativity of the statement. It is all she can do to turn and stare at her companion. "I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," her airy vocals are almost inaudible, hushed into a breezy whisper.

"Why did you say that?" Isis seems utterly confused. Perhaps even looking for a hidden motive?

Not all the words, as timidly as they are spoken, reach Diogenes. Somewhat surprised that Isis stops, he too slows down to a halt a dozen feet away from the redhead. The dark slender figure turns around, a look of relative surprise sprawled across his face. For a while, nothing but silence dominates the alleyway; however, eventually Diogenes stirs, letting the bag slide down his side. The purpose of that is so that he could toss the gun inside, so that he would have one hand free.

With the bag hover at the side of his legs, he silently closes the distance between him and Isis, and again, nothing but silence punctuates his deliberately slow steps. When he arrives to stand just a couple of feet or less away from Joanne, he peers deeply yet clumsily into her expressive eyes, like a kid rippling water in a fountain with a hand. "I don't know. I don't know a lot of things, and that is one of them", he admits. "Maybe I'm subconsciously trying to get you to be someone I can hold as— as someone dear to me. Maybe I've given up the idea of ever clawing my way out of solitude and was simply ranting. Whatever the reason behind those words are… I spoke them sincerely."

"The Sun doesn't always mean to scorch the Earth," she says quietly. After a moment her gaze wanders to the alley beneath her feet. With a small gesture, like a mouse uncertainly approaching the lion, she moves without looking. With a gentle motion she slips her arm into the crook of Tom's and rests her head on his shoulder before giving a small tip of her body and leading them back into a slow pace down the alley.

A peaceful moment. Another. And, then: "I can't believe you like blondes," she teases around a sweet, serene smile, her gaze still on the gravel before their feet.

As the two initiate a leisurely pace towards the end of the alleyway that gradually nears the despicable duo, Diogenes shamelessly yet gently wraps an arm around the woman's waist. It's not a lecherous grab, but instead a loose embrace with his digits resting, not pushing against her dainty waist. Like Isis, he has his gaze driven to the ground, a thoughtful expression now cast over his visage.

His seriousness is dispelt by the humorous remark Isis throws up in the air, and that is enough to make him chuckle, the gesture rife with amusement. "Everyone has their achilles' heel", he announces in jest, knowing full well that not blondes are his weak spot, as he discovered the moment he met the redhead. "Your boobs are bigger than Kaylee's; it's an unfair contest. You win hands down." Another chuckle of his rings in the air, and he tips his head to the side to lightly bump it against Joanne's. Tranquility. Warmth. He has forgotten how great these two feel. And for once, the exhaustion that overwhelms him is pleasant and soothing. Tonight, he was going to have a good night's sleep, for once.

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