Serendipity [Ra's]

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Ever since society, in its infinite wisdom, decided to abandon the idea that children are meant to be seen and not heard, it seems as if every generation of rich youth tries to out-do the next in their ridiculous demands against tradition. And, fairly used to this by now, only one of Aria's eyebrows was raised when she received an invitation to a last-minute garden party the day after what was perhaps the first lingering snowfall of the year. Further scrutiny of the invitation caused even that eyebrow to lower as the venue indicated that it was not to be held outdoors but within one of the massive greenhouses at Wayne Botanical Gardens. Ah, that works, she supposes.

As does, surprisingly, the time of the party - it begins at 3:00pm and ends at 6:30pm. She won't be able to attend the whole thing as sunset happens at around 4:30pm this time of year, but she can be there maybe an hour before she'll have to head home. Still, an hour at an upper class party at this time of year is a rarity that she couldn't pass up, even if the strangeness of it might deter many of the invited guests. Then again, given that the hostess is none other than Veronica Vreeland - a very well-known socialite - perhaps the others will simply run with it. And the words 'black tie' at the end only sold Aria on it further. She's actually a bit depressed that she won't be able to attend Selina's big Gala but, though this little garden party is hardly a substitute for that, at least it's something to dress up for.

Given her time limit, she arrives at the party precisely on time even though she knows full well that most of the guests will probably arrive 'fashionably late'. But the number that are there when she gets there seems promising when it comes to the party's eventual success. The first thing that Aria does upon arrival is seek out Miss Vreeland.

"Veronica! How lovely to see you again! And thank you for inviting me," she gushes first, before asking the real question on her mind, "However did you come up with this wonderful idea?"

"Oh, well, when the snow was falling all day the other day, I just got so depressed about it, you know? I mean, I know it's supposed to be Christmas now and stuff, but I miss summer already, so I thought why not throw a garden party? I mean this counts as a garden, right? And daddy was able to reserve the place for me, only they said we had to be out of here by seven, which is lame. And I tried to get Bruce to change that for me, since he owns the place, but he's not been answering my calls. Or my texts. Or my emails..." the young woman rambles, before finally frowning down at her smartphone as if it was holding out on her.

"Oh, it's perfect! Trend-setting, even!" Aria says instantly, "I'm going to have to leave early, actually, so if it was any later I wouldn't have been able to come at all. And it already looks like a good turnout - it will be fine!" Though after those reassuring words, she's quick to abandon the anxious hostess so that she can actually socialize and perhaps even have some fun before she has to leave.

It doesn't take her long to find the dance floor. The best thing about formal parties, at least in Aria's eyes, are the formal forms of dance. What passes for dancing among popular culture these days is just... terrible. Dancing is supposed to be a beautiful art form, not whatever that is! And it doesn't take much time before her tactic of standing in the sidelines by herself and looking like she ever so much wants to join in pays off in the form of an invitation to dance from one of the gentlemen in attendance. The son of one of the biggest supporters of her political campaign, she finds out as they chat. Sadly, he's abysmal at the foxtrot, but she tries to enjoy dancing with him anyway.

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“May I please have your invitation?” Standing at the entrance to the Garden, the Doorman in black extended his and out to the Man before him. Responding to his question, Ra’s ran his hand through his inner-jacket and to his interior pocket, pulling a golden invitation from it before handing it over to the man. Running his eyes over the folded out invitation, a smile appeared on his face as he nodded to another Man who ticked a name off of a long list. He handed the invitation back to Ra’s who proceeded to neatly placed it away once more. “Welcome Mr. Ducard, thank you for coming.” Gesturing down the hall, the Doorman gave quick directions for where he was to go. As if I didn’t notice where everyone else was going. “Thank you.” With a simple nod, he turned and began to make his way to the Garden.

It was a rare occasion that Ra’s would ever visit a social event as such as this, especially one which did not give to a charity. It was just another privileged Girl’s attempt to be popular by wasting her Father’s money. As he entered the large Gardens, he felt the temperature raise dramatically due to the tropical heat needed to sustain many of the plants. Among a City as vile and decadent as Gotham, at least this place still stood, reminding them of the outside World. Suddenly Ra’s felt a hand upon his shoulder which belonged to the Party’s orchestrator, Veronica Vreeland. “Henri, it’s great to see you again! I don’t remember seeing you since...well I can’t remember.” Truly this Woman sickened him, her words, her movements. Like all socialites, they think themselves greater than each other, an arrogance which fuels them to throw a party like this one, most likely in an attempt to outdo a rival.

“Always a pleasure, Miss Vreeland.” Even talking to her made his stomach slightly turn. A quick exit was the best course of action. Turning from her, he felt her hot on his heels. Again she placed her hand on his arm to catch his attention. “I love the suit, Henri, so dark and mysterious, black is defiantly your colour.” Is it impossible to shake this Woman, she seems intent on making conversation, something Ra’s had no plan to. This time he gave her no reply as he continued walking through the crowds of people. Glasses clinging off of one another, false smiles to be found everywhere and Ra’s was in the middle of all of it. Then suddenly, a strange feeling over came him as he looked to the dance floor. Amongst the swirling dancers moved a Woman, who he only glimpsed on for a second. Her face was familiar, as if he’d seen it before.

Moving through the social circles towards the dance floor, he moved ever closer to see who this mysterious Woman was. For a moment he thought that he’d lost her in the swirl of dancers but then she appeared again in her distinctively lovely dress. Now he was just a few meters from her as he moved ever closer. Then it struck him. “Anne...” It was more of a whisper, which only he could hear amongst the loud chatting of the other party members. The whole room seemed to revolve around him at such a speed as he stood still, lost for words at the sight of this Woman. More than two hundred years and she looked as young as the day he met her. Did she have knowledge of the Lazarus Pits? Secretly he was thrilled to see her again; their last meeting was so exciting. Then again another figure with the power of immortality could be troublesome. Now was his chance, this song was ending, he’d have the chance to dance with her soon.

Tapping the man she was dancing with on the shoulder, Ra’s wished to have another chance to meet her. “Excuse me; I’d like to have the honour of dancing with this Lady.” Before the man could respond, Ra’s had moved him out of the way, standing before her with a smirk upon his face. He hoped that he’d caught her off guard entirely, as she’d likely be as surprised as he was when he first saw her. The band began to play its instruments, as everyone prepared for the Waltz. Taking Anne by the hand and placing the other on her hip, he began to dance with her in unison with everyone else upon the dance floor. “Tell me, do all two hundred year old Women look as beautiful as yourself?” Clutching her tightly, he had no intention of letting her go anywhere.

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Quite unaware that she's being observed, Aria tries to make the most of the dance though it's always so hard when she's so poorly matched with her partner. For her the movements are no more difficult to remember and perform than the Macarena or the YMCA - she learned them back when they became popular and simply never forgot them, even as most of the world around her moved onto other things and what was then a new trend became an old-fashioned tradition. Though if you ask her, the new ones are rather ridiculous when compared to the old ones.

Therefore, attempting to dance with this novice gives her an overwhelming feeling of being held back. So when their dance is interrupted by another man cutting in, even before she looks to see who it is she's somewhat relieved even if the only reason is that there's hope that whoever it is will be better. Though the moment she lays her eyes on this man, that thought is put on the back-burner. His face seems familiar, though she has a very hard time placing it. After all, she shifts lives roughly every fifteen years or so, and each of those lives carries with it a sea of names and faces - only sometimes are a few the same. So at first the distant familiarity makes her assume that he's someone her "mother" knew perhaps? But her memory fails to confirm this, leaving her staring at him for a moment with a deeply thoughtful expression.

But as the band strikes up a waltz and he asks her a rather unusual question it's all the hint she needs to jog her memory. For though it's actually been quite a bit more than two hundred years since she's seen his face and time has been much kinder to her than it has to him, the number of people she's bothered to remember from that long ago are relatively few and yet he's one of them. Recognition and surprise cross her face and then a disbelieving smile - yes, this is that man. How this could be, she has no idea, but of course she would never forget that face even if she couldn't place it quickly.

Laughing at this surprise, she answers his question by saying, "I wouldn't know - I'm much older than that!" The outside observer, hearing this, would probably assume that she's joking, but she isn't. But that's just as well - they aren't exactly in the best place for a private conversation, but among the spinning dancers the odds of someone catching more than a phrase or two in a row are rather low. Especially since this man from so far back in her past is, as she hoped, as familiar with how to dance a waltz as she is. To modern eyes it's an old style of dance, though it was just becoming popular in Vienna around the time that she first met this man. Letting him lead, she follows him easily - effortlessly - so that their dance almost appears to be choreographed when compared to the other dancers around them. In most ballroom dances the man is supposed to lead the woman around as if the goal of the movement is to display her skill and grace even though it's just as much work to keep up with her as he does so - and she knows her part of this very well.

"Henri, isn't it?" she asks with a smile, proving that she remembers him, "I'm Aria Lloyd." For the name that he'd remember her by is no longer relevant and hasn't been for centuries. Of course the name that she's just given him is just as false as Anne Montagne, though if he wants the truer one then this is not the time and place to tell him. Just because he's somehow lived this long doesn't mean that he is to be trusted with everything, after all. In fact, logic seems to dictate that she ought to handle him with even more care than usual - if he's lasted this long, chances are her normal methods of dealing with problematic people wouldn't work on him. On the other hand, though the way that they last parted company was somewhat... disappointing, it was on a positive enough note that she won't automatically assume he has bad intentions.

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After many years of infiltrating the upper echelons of Society, Ra’s has often frequented balls and parties. It is often customary that there be dancing at these types of gatherings, so to blend in, Ra’s began to learn how to dance. Some may claim that fighting is like dancing but they’re wrong, dancing is much harder. Although if you made a mistake dancing, it would not cost you your life. Still he endeavored to learn the ways of the Rich, so after years of practicing, Ra’s became an adequate dancer. Still in this modern day, there were few parties that continued to follow the tradition of the older ones, yet it was pleasant to see that this one had. “As old as me?” In response to her question, he answered with his own query. Obviously they both wanted to know so much about each other, though Ra’s was determined to find out first. Her beauty had all but left his mind until tonight, in which he began to remember her outstanding looks. In the dress she was wearing, she looked even better. The colour suited her light pale skin although it contrasted his dark outfit, which accentuated his mysterious aura, which he intended to maintain.

The band continued to play softly but then the pace began to increase, with all the couple moving faster around the floor. Although he lightly smirked at her, many darker thoughts surged through his head. This Woman was a threat; somehow she had knowledge of immortality through either science or some other mystical reason. Another immortal posed a huge problem to his operations. For example if she worked against him, removing her would be much more troublesome. So Ra’s decided to take another path. Keeping her close would remove the possibility, or at least lower the chances, of her moving against him. “Henri. For now.” Winking to her, he knew that she wasn’t new to aliases and false names. Aria Lloyd. She said it so casually, like she previously said Anne Montagne.

“I preferred Anne, it suited you more.” Remembering how she turned down his gracious offer, he all most longed to say ‘I told you so’, concerning the future of the French Monarchy and Aristocracy. A few weeks after meeting with Anne, Ra’s engaged another plan which involved attacking a Prison. More of a symbolic victory than anything else, many fled to the cause soon after. He wondered how she found the Revolution; she still has a head so it must have gone relatively alright for her. In fact the whole scheme of using the guillotine was one of Ra’s’ suggestions. Remove your foes for good and they will never rise up again.

Spinning her around in unison with every other dancer on the floor, his eyes shot around to the crowd then back to her. “Obviously we have much to discuss, would you not rather do it somewhere more private?” Even amongst a large crowd of dancers, eyes and hears saw and heard all. It would be best if they both left for a more secluded location, to remove the chance of being spied upon. One foot after the other, Ra’s continued to move around with her in his arms. Her light weight made her the ideal dancing partner, with him being able to lead her with ease. Once they will begin to discuss their long lives, how will he explain the League or better yet, should he mention them. With her being at the party, she likely held a high position within the City, likely a position that Ra’s could use to his advantage.

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"I don't know - how old are you?" Aria asks somewhat coyly. He seems to have aged since she last saw him, but quite obviously not very much. Which brings its own questions - obviously however he's managed to live for so long it's not due to a method like hers. Not that she'd count his aging as noteworthy for any other reason - age, real or apparent, doesn't matter to her and he's still every bit as handsome as she remembers. In fact, if anything, it only makes him look that much more distinguished.

As the tempo of the music increases, she has no trouble keeping pace with her dancing. He is strong and she is light - a good combination for making more daring movements rather easy. And as she gets used to the idea that she is, indeed, dancing with the man from so long ago, she actually finds that she's quite enjoying that. Of all the people in her past to see again, she's not upset that it would be him. And the mere fact of someone else living this long doesn't really bother her - at least he's better than the other one that she knows. His wink when he doesn't give her another name to call him gets an amused smile - so that's how it is, is it?

"I've never liked the name 'Henri'," she dryly comments, reflecting on what she can remember of their past conversation. It's probably a good thing that he doesn't attempt to talk about being right - she could go on for hours about how horrid the French Revolution was and all the other events that were ultimately caused by it. She'd managed to escape from coming to serious harm, aside from having had to flee the country and leave her nice things behind - Florent hadn't been so lucky. For a relatively short time she moved to England instead, but then the Napoleonic Wars started and it seemed as though there was nowhere in Europe to escape from it. So she'd begrudgingly decided to wait it all out in the United States, that had at least a semblance of luxury and was much more peaceful - sort of. The Europe that emerged from that war was forever changed - in a bad way, in her opinion, so she never ended up going back except to visit.

In any event, they clearly have much to discuss and this is not an ideal place - it's not merely the other dancers overhearing that they have to worry about, but it seems that they have the distinction of being the best couple at the waltz on the entire dance floor so the onlookers are favoring them to look at. Again she answers his question with one of her own. "Would you like to come and watch the sunset with me?" she asks, her tone hinting that there's more to the invitation than simple sunset watching. But it certainly means leaving the party - to truly see the sunset in this city of tall buildings, you'd need to either be high in one of the taller buildings or drive westward until you reach the river.

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As he twirled her around once more, he caught the eye of a few other dancers. Obviously they were embarrassed by their own moves compared to theirs. Looking back to her, Ra’s thought for a moment before responding to her question upon his age. Truthfully his exact age had alluded him so it took him a few seconds to reply. “To the best of my knowledge, I believe that I’m closing in on 650. Although exactly I’m not sure, I have far more important things to remember than my age.” You, for example. Although he never thought about her night and day, Ra’s had once or twice remembered their encounter, how she defended herself and those magnificent weapons that she carried. He wondered if she still had them.

There were many who he was glad that they dead, but Anne or Aria as she was now called, was not one of them. However she was not the last Woman that he had loved. Before her death, a Woman called Mellisandre was the object of his affection. For a short while he had even married her although the only product of that marriage was sadness and Talia. “Really? I’m rather fond of the name. Still it served its purpose two hundred years ago.” The origin of the name had become lost to him but it was one he enjoyed using. How many names had she used since their last meeting? Hundreds he supposed. Having not aged a day, some might become suspicious of her. He bet that she’d moved around a lot, a new identity and life where ever she went. The thing that surprised him most was her impeccable accent, completely different from her original one. Whereas Ra’s’ stayed relatively the same, just in a different language. She’s been in the country for a while, few people can pull off of an accent like that.

Watching the sunset? How romantic. “Another problem in Gotham, there’s no where ideal to watch the sun set. But yes, I would love to watch the sun set with you. I suggest travelling to my residence; I have a fine view of the City skyline from my office.” No matter how damaged the World is, the Sun is still as beautiful as ever. Since his arrival in Gotham, Ra’s had moved into the League’s branch in the City. Although it doesn’t provide the same peace and tranquility that the Monastery does, which had being suitably repaired after Wayne destroyed it, the Penthouse was far more ideal and practical. Now with the Batman problem, Ra’s guessed that he’d find himself staying at this Penthouse far more often. The band finished the song and all the dancers stood back from their partners, either bowing or curtseying. To a roar of clapping from the crowd, Ra’s bowed like every other male dancer, to Aria, smiling with his cold dark lips.

Taking her lightly by the arm, Ra’s began to escort her out off the dance floor at towards the exit. Somehow, Ra’s found it hard to believe that she was in Gotham of all Cities. Compared to Metropolis, it’s nothing. A dark corrupted pit of crime which consumes all good. However perhaps that suits her. Looking around the room, it obviously has a strong social scene for the rich, which might lure her in. Quickly he passed Veronica who stood talking to yet another corporate official. Thankfully she never noticed him; the last thing he wanted was to have a conversation with her. The shift between the warm Gardens and cold exterior was chilling but the walk to his car didn’t take very long. Before entering, he had instructed the Driver to stay close, in case he needed to make a sharp exit such as this. The car door was opened for them as they approached before they both climbed in. “Take me Home.”

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"Unless I'm terribly mistaken, I was born sometime between 1405 and 1410," Aria confesses, because while she seems to have that narrowed down a bit more than he does, she doesn't really remember either. But people's exact ages tended to matter a bit less back then, unless you were royalty or something, though she does know that she was in her very early twenties when she was cursed. Now she'd be somewhere just over six hundred. But given just how long ago that was, that means that they're practically the same age - what's a few decades when you've been alive for centuries?

But though, if only because of sheer uniqueness, this is one of the more interesting conversations she's probably ever had, it doesn't distract her from their dance - gliding without apparent effort wherever he leads her. "It doesn't suit you," she says of the name, though her smile afterward suggests that she may be just teasing. But having had so many names and met so many people, she's a bit of a connoisseur of them. But she hasn't had hundreds since they last met - she never keeps track but it would be something around thirteen. Switching that often hasn't been necessary since she got the hang of keeping her unusual nature a secret. And being able to speak each language she knows with the proper accent is a part of that - nobody is going to believe that you were born in a place if you can't speak the language there without sounding as if speaking it is foreign to you. But though they both may have faced some similar problems relating to living for so long, they each have led different lives and needed a different set of skills.

Though she'd been thinking of another place when she'd suggested watching the sunset, she quickly dismisses the idea when he suggests his office - that's even better and for more reasons than one. "What a wonderful idea! Yes, let's go there," she says with a smile, curious now to see what sort of home and office a man like him would have. She'd been enjoying the dance, though, so even with that to look forward to she's somewhat disappointed when the song ends. But she finishes with a rather deep curtsy, proving that unlike most modern women she knows how one is properly done - gracefully! Always gracefully!

Smiling, she allows him to escort her out. She knows that their dance and then leaving together early will prompt a few rumors, but those can be easily squished later. Right now she's glancing at the sky and attempting to calculate how long until the sun sets. Something she's actually quite good at, given just how important that moment of the day is to her, but the light is only just beginning to fade as the sun nears the horizon so they probably have plenty of time to reach his residence if it's within the city. Just before they leave, she steps aside to collect the thick black shawl she brought with her to protect her bare arms and shoulders from the chill on her way in and out . And she also uses that moment to send a quick text to Ami, who is running errands nearby, to inform her assistant that it won't be necessary to pick her up as had been planned.

That having been taken care of, she's still pleased to see that the walk isn't far as even her shawl provides limited protection. As empty-headed as Veronica is, perhaps the young woman does have a point about missing summer already. Entering the car, she idly comments, "That's one thing that I do and don't miss: horses." For they were only replaced by cars over the last century or so, and the noble horse had many advantages along with their many drawbacks as a mode of transportation. But that's an observation she couldn't normally make because beyond having to conceal her true age most people these days haven't ridden them and wouldn't understand, while anyone her own age most certainly would. "It's so easy to become nostalgic when the world is constantly changing, isn't it?" she asks as she settles herself in her seat, "Times change, people change, and all that you're left with are the memories."

Take Gotham, for instance - she can remember being in the area not long after she arrived in the United States, well before they discovered how to build such tall buildings, when the rivers were full of sailboats and paddleboats, the dirt streets were full of pedestrians, the occasional wagon or carriage, and filth. Few of the modern residents would have recognized it. She didn't stay then, though - unlike Paris, the city was new and experiencing severe growing pains. She didn't consider the place to be very habitable until the invention of more modern infrastructure - the countryside had been better. But that's what she meant by memories - so many memories and so few of them even matter now. Yet now it seems that a memory from over two hundred years ago matters a great deal.

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The light snow upon the road crunched softly as the black colored Audi rolled through the city streets. Thankfully the traffic was light, with only a number of cars upon the road for this time of year. Many walked the icy sidewalks, huddled together as they marched along, attempting to keep warm in the bitter winter. However that was no problem inside of the vehicle. Sat with one leg crossed over the other and his arm up upon a soft rest, Ra’s was as warm and comfortable as can be. “You don’t feel this comfortable upon a horse.” He joked lightly as he looked out of the window at those passing by. As thrilling as riding a powerful horse was, there was always a lack of enjoyment when winter came. Sore legs and a bad back was all that would come from riding during hard weather.

Looking back to her, Ra’s was touched by her words on the past although physically didn’t show it. “You sound like you’ve grown tired of life.” Admittedly, Ra’s had gave much thought to his extended life. If he had another chance, would he have stayed mortal? However he couldn’t remember being given a choice. It was his duty to see that the League succeeded in their plans, until the time in which an heir is found, and then he will pass on his position to them. Street after street passed as the car rapidly approached Ra’s building. In the distance, it was possibly to see it; a bulky dark tower of metal and stone that stood out among the other buildings. It was gothic and imposing, standing over the surrounding buildings and casting a mighty shadow over all.

Pulling up outside of the building, the Driver slowly applied the brakes and a man in a black suit similar to the Driver’s ran over to the car, opening it for those inside. Allowing Aria to get out first, Ra’s quickly followed as the door was shut behind him. A few steps ran up to the large golden-door entrance, which had a pair of gargoyles on either side. A pair of demons watching all who entered, their eyes seemed to follow them as they entered. Once inside, the coldness of outside fled and warmth returned. Another person ran over to collect their coats before disappearing. A fountain trickled away in the centre of the dark room, opposite to the main desk. A row of silver elevator doors stood at the side to room, which Ra’s casually moved over to, pressing the button to call the elevator. With a quiet noise, the lift arrived and the doors opened, allowing them to get in before it shut behind them. Pressing a button upon the wall, the small silver box shot up to the top floor of the building. In a few moments, they had reached the highest floor of the whole building.

Upon entering his penthouse, guests are welcomed by an impressive marble statue of an ancient Warrior. “Alexander the Great, a man who had a vision of a united World, a continuous empire rather than a number of barbaric tribes.” The man was one of Ra’s’ most admired historical figures, due to his great ambition and ingenuity in both war and peace. Besides the statue, there was a number of busts of other great Leaders from history. A few wooden doors lead to different rooms, with one to the left of them peaking into his office. As they passed another door, a small library filled the room, with hundreds of books lining the walls. Finally they reached the main part of the penthouse, a large room with a view of the entire city. A fire burnt away in the centre of the room and black wall paper matched the granite floor. “Please make yourself at home, would you like a drink?” Ra’s approached a wooden cabinet in the corner of the room, which was filled with beverages.

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"Hmm, the right carriage though..." Aria comments thoughtfully. A well-designed enclosed carriage a hundred or more years ago was every bit as nice as a luxury car on the inside, with the possible exception of heating. But then again, before modern heating clothing for winter was better designed to keep out the chill rather than being purely aesthetic. Really, the only advantage to modern cars is the speed. But then again, that mostly depends on how much of a hurry you're in to be where you're going - with the right company even a long journey isn't much of a bother.

His comment causes her to raise an eyebrow in slight surprise. Did what she said leave that impression. "At times," she admits with a nod, but then she smiles as she comments, "But only when I'm remembering the past - when I look to the future, life starts to seem very interesting again." Because there's always some goal - something that she wants and looks forward to. Already she's been toying with plans for what she'll do with her next life, even though it will still be years before she's ready to be finished being Aria.

But when she looks back and remembers the past - all the things that she can't have again because the world kept changing whether she likes it or not - it's easy for her to feel somewhat depressed. Though fortunately never for long enough for her to seriously consider doing anything to reverse her immortality. It would be a long, tricky process to track down a magic user powerful enough - one that she could trust to do as she asked and nothing more or less than that - and that's probably the only exit to this existence that she has.

When they arrive at the building, it immediately grabs her attention. The gargoyles in the front prompt a smile - she has little fear of demons. Not ones made of stone, anyway. Waiting for "Henri" to lead the way inside, she appears at ease as her eyes travel over the lobby they pass through. And she's somehow not surprised when they enter the elevator and he sends them all the way to the top floor. If you can live six hundred years without learning how to live well, there's something wrong with you.

As they enter the penthouse, again her eyes turn to take in the room. And she's quick to nod when he talks about the statue in the center. "Yes, I know him," she says, before quickly clarifying, "I mean I know of him - I'm not quite that old." She laughs, as she'd have to be nearly four times older to have lived in his day. Her eyes scan over the other busts, many of which she also recognizes - she's very well educated, having had so long to learn things, and while modern times always ensures that there is plenty more to learn the advantage of learning history - even history from well before her day - is that it doesn't change significantly over time like some subjects.

Glancing curiously around herself as she's led further in, her expression lights up when they finally reach the main center room. Her eyes take it in, appreciating the central fireplace, but she's quick to wander over to the large window so that she can admire the view - and double check the location of the sun. "Perhaps a glass of wine?" she says, politely making it a question. After all, he's the host and she's the guest. "This almost makes me wish I had a penthouse of my own," she comments, before turning away from the window, "But owning more than one home in the same city seems a little excessive to me." Though whether she really means that is a bit unclear because she's smiling as she seats herself on a couch, not simply sitting but leaning back elegantly and resting her arms on top of the back - he did tell her to make herself at home, after all.

"So what can I call you, other than Henri?" she asks mildly, guessing that he's much more likely to give her a real answer in this setting than the one they left. If this is his own home then he ought to be more comfortable having such a conversation here than anywhere.

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Glancing over his array of fine wines, Ra’s picked out an old red and proceeded to pour it into two glasses. Trickling from the bottle, the liquid filled the glasses before the cork was placed back on the bottle. The only noise in the room came from the slow burn of the fire, as the wood crumbled under the heat of the flame. During the winter months back at the Monastery, the weather could be monstrously fowl with a fire often being the only source of life for a person. As he brought the drink over to her, the fire lit up one side of him while the darkness seemed to fade over his other side, giving his appearance a deathly duality. Ra’s passed her one of the glasses while taking a sip from his own glass.

The window provided an impressive view of the City below. From above, Gotham had a more majestic and powerful feel, a concrete jungle with buildings creating huge canyons. Like Aria had mentioned before, he felt rather nostalgic over this City. Two hundred years ago and it was barely eighth the size of the current City. How time had transformed it from once a hopeful colony to the cesspit that it was today. A bird’s eye view made it out to a great achievement of human ingenuity, however all Ra’s could see was pollution that chocked the skies and crime that filled the streets. This City has had its time, soon it will realize that. “There’s no beauty to this city, no sense of awe and wonder. It’s like a drain, which sucks all down it into the depths of darkness. The people who live here are no better than the criminals who pillage them.”

Ra’s lingered by the window for a moment, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the glass, he turned to find her sitting upon the black leather couch. Moving into a single crimson leather chair by the warm fire, Ra’s watched her closely, listening to her question upon his identity. Either he could tell her the truth or continue the lie. Even if he told her his name, it would give her no more information to what he was. “You can call me…Ra’s al Ghul.” The name slithered from his mouth like a coiled snake, pouncing from his lips to her ears. A chill seemed to run from him across the room, as if a terrible thing had been uttered. The fire swayed slightly for a moment as he spoke, quickly returning to its original heat as he finished. “And what may I call you? Other than Lady Anne Montagne?”

The wine ran around his mouth, warming him slightly as he began to further coil himself upon his seat. Swallowing it, Ra’s had so many questions to ask her in such a short period of time which was strange for an immortal to say. “Why Gotham? What do you do here? I take it you’re living off of some other rich sap?” A playful smirk curled upon his face. Since they had last met, Woman’s position had greatly increased with them gaining the vote among other things. However Ra’s’ views hadn’t changed at all. Crackling away, the fire warmed his cold extremities as he sat comfortably upon the well worn chair. Ra’s was still lost for words when it came to his feelings for her. Age has not weakened her nor time withered her. She remains as beautiful as the day he met her. With a bit of imagination, he can picture her back in her period clothing, the lavish dress she wore and the daggers that she was armed with. He wondered if she still carried them.

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"And yet it's a wonderful place to be very rich," Aria comments with a smile, taking a thoughtful sip of the wine. (Hmm, very soft and complex, as any good old wine ought to be.) Gotham has its unpleasant parts, yes, but like Paris of old the upper class can live in decadence without worrying much about that. Oh, she's heard about a party here and there being interrupted by a crazed criminal, but as that's only really known to happen at night she doesn't have to worry about that.

Though from the way that she's sitting it's easy to see that she's relaxed, she's watching him closely too as they basically 'get down to business' and start asking real questions. The name he gives causes her to pause for a thoughtful moment before she comments, "Arabic... Demon's Head? Sounds like a title." And an interesting one at that! But though it does indeed sound a bit ominous, it doesn't worry her. There is, after all, so few things in this world that she really needs to fear - and she can't sense anything like that now. She'll be able to be completely sure shortly.

"Like I said earlier, now I'm called Aria Lloyd," she responds first, a smile appearing on her lips before she adds, "But if you want the name I was born with, it's Dionisia Wood." Which shouldn't tell him much of anything - oh, there are a few old legends, all of them over five hundred years old and very localized, about a ghost with that name. Probably only a handful of people know them now. But six hundred years ago, the name would indicate that she was probably born in England and not to a wealthy family.

His last question prompts an almost instant laugh. "Not unless you'd count a man who has been dead for nearly thirty years. The inheritance laws these days are... rather more favorable than they were at another time and place," she says with a smile. She's now been living off the same dead 'rich sap' for most of two 'lifetimes', and she already has plans in place for her current wealth to be transferred to a third when she 'dies'. Such a thing could have never happened in France two hundred years ago, where women could not inherit. "And like I said, this is a wonderful place to be rich - the headquarters of my company are here. But I'm more of a politician - I won a seat in the House during the last election, so I'm taking office in January," she explains.

There's a pause as she considers for a moment - she has many questions to ask him after all, but in which order? "And what do you do? Besides break into women's bedrooms, I mean?" she asks, a smirk appearing on her face.

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“It’s a dangerous place to be rich,” Ra’s countered before taking another drink from the glass poised between his long fingers, “So many caring about so little.” He muttered the second half of his sentence under his breath. One of Gotham’s main problems stemmed from the arrogance of the wealthy and their abuse of the less fortunate. And when you have a City filled with the rich like Gotham is, there is bound to be a number of problems. As they get richer, the divide between classes becomes a gaping canyon, which only increases tension. In Ra’s’ future, there will be two classes, criminals and the innocent. You will be either one or the other.

Obviously his name intrigues her although hopefully she won’t have heard it before. Secrecy is a strong weapon in the hands of the League. It allows them to strike from the shadows and leave just as quickly as they appeared. If his name was public knowledge, then that would cripple their effectiveness. However there’s a strong chance of one or two Legends surrounding The League, likely told from the country of Ra’s’ birth. “Title? Perhaps it’s a warning.” A cruel smirk shone from his face like the flames of the fire by him. She was right, the name is an honorary one passed down through history. The current Ra’s was just one of many through time who have each fought crime in a similar manner.


“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Wood, finally.” The name was unfamiliar to him. Obviously he wasn’t aware of every myth and legend although he’ll endeavor to discover what he can about her. There was no way to know what plans she had, so keeping a close eye on her would be his main aim for now. His finger ran its way around the rim of the glass as his eyes shot for a moment to the window, where the sun slowly began to fall behind the other buildings, turning the sky a light orange tint. Through the light clouds, the rays of sun reflect off of the building’s windows. The sun set early during this time in the year, so Ra’s predicted that they had only a few minutes before it fell out of sight.

While she laughed, Ra’s kept relatively silent. “Oh I’m sorry to hear that.” He wasn’t sure if she actually loved the men she was with, or if they were simply tools at her disposal. Still he gave his condolences. Would she even remember the Husband she had when he first met her, all of those years ago in France? The name had fallen from his own memory but the Man was of little importance to him. Her next sentence came as a shock to him. “Politics? I’m impressed and pleasantly surprised; I never thought you had it in you. Although you’ve shown quite a talent concerning lying and it seems like you have a love of power. So you have all of the credentials.” The times change but the Leaders stay the same. “And a company also, how remarkable.” Ra’s lightly raised his glass to her; seemingly congratulate her upon her success. The question directed towards his own profession came as no surprise to him as he handled it coolly and took little to no time to reply. He already had an answer primed in his head. Sitting forward in his chair, he placed his glass upon a small table to the side of him. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

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"Not for me," Aria responds with an easy smile. It's not simply her inability to die or what she becomes at night that saves her from Gotham's dangers, but also simply because you learn which mistakes to avoid when you've lived long enough. Beyond simply knowing how to defend herself, she knows how to manage her money carefully and avoid getting taken advantage of. Make the same mistake enough times, and you learn - and some mistakes you make only once because they become burned into your psyche forever.

She simply smiles when he calls his name a warning - completely unbothered by that. He can warn her all he wants - she's cautious here but not afraid. She's never heard of a Ra's al Ghul before, as she's never been one to go out of her way to study secret things, but even though he must have a way to live so long the odds that he's actually a threat are probably still fairly small - just much more likely than the average person.

Her eyes follow his to the window briefly, but she already knows that sunset is quite imminent. The time of day is always in the back of her mind, especially when she's nearing transition. But if she was overly concerned about that, she wouldn't have asked him to watch the sunset with her in the first place. So she's yet at ease as he expresses his condolences, though she's quick to dismiss them by saying, "No need to be sorry - I'm not." Herbert Lloyd's death was, after all, completely purposeful on her part - though nobody will ever be able to prove that she had anything to do with that fire. Especially since she was supposedly a newborn at the time. And she hadn't cared at all about him - though just because she admittedly uses men that doesn't mean that she feels so dispassionate about all of them - Herbert she may have trouble recalling in a couple of centuries, but she certainly still remembers Florent even though she never did love him. He was a good man, though - worth thinking about on occasion, even now.

As he muses out loud about her credentials for being a politician, she can't help but laugh, "I admit, the only hard part of it was securing the votes. Then again, that's simply a matter of convincing rich people to like me enough to use their money to convince the masses to like me too. And Lloyd's Pet Supply isn't exactly the most exciting business, but it does manage to keep me from running out of money." Which can be a bit of a challenge sometimes, actually. She may be careful with her money, but that doesn't mean that she shies away from big expenses when they're worth it to her.

His answer in return is, of course, unsatisfactory. In fact, when he says those words, she immediately stands. "As I recall, you've given me that answer before..." she takes a sip of her wine before she starts to approach him - though her manner is calm and not at all threatening, "It's a poor answer, you know - clearly if I had anything to fear from death I wouldn't be alive now. In fact, I have very little to fear of anything at the moment." And almost as if to demonstrate, now that she's reached Ra's side she gently but firmly pushes rests her free hand on his shoulder, guiding his posture to be more upright as she sits across his lap. He did tell her to make herself at home, didn't he? "Why did you leave me?" she whispers quietly with her voice sounding somewhat sad as she uses a finger to turn his face towards her - suddenly they're only a few inches apart.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, the clock is counting down the last seconds.

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Watching her move from her chair, Ra’s’ body stiffened as she approached him. He sat back in his chair, pushing himself back into the fabric as far as he could go. Obviously she was not content with his dubious answer. As much as he’d like to tell her, he still had to put the League first. If he did tell her, the repercussions could be mighty. An immortal with all of eternity to worm her way into the League, or she could reveal it to the World. He shuddered to think of what could happen. When she talks about not fearing anything, a cold smirk cuts towards her. Whenever he smiles, his eyes always remain focused on target. “Only fools don’t fear death. And as for this moment, you’re correct. You have nothing to fear. Yet.” He too spoke nonchalantly, never raising his voice while talking to her.

As she sits on his lap, for a brief moment he feels very uncomfortable. For most of his life, Ra’s has little to no human contact. Weeks can pass without him uttering a word to another person, so this movement came very strangely to him. Imagining her trying to sit upon his lap in the clothing she wore last time he met her, brought a smile to his face as he continued to look into her eyes. His heart began to beat quicker; he had not felt like this for a very long time. “I’m afraid it’s the only answer you’re going to get.” Locking his fingers with her’s, Ra’s’ head moved closer to Dionisia’s.

Mere inches from her lips, he was about to kiss her until she asked another questions. Moving back away from her, he sighed slightly before answering. “In my line of work, there’s not much room for…attachments. They’re often a weakness which others can use against you. So I thought it best not to get you involved, for your own sake. But now that I’ve learned how special you are, all that has changed.” He couldn’t admit that there’d been other women in his life since her, not yet at least. There’d been Mellisandre, and before that there’d been his Russian Lover. But now, she was the only woman he wanted.

“I want you now, that’s all that should matter. Living an elongated life can be lonely, and with some many partners living so short lives, love just wasn’t a very logical option.” Moving in closer again, this time he managed to land his lips. She might not have smelled the same, or really looked the same but she definitely tasted the same. The lipstick on her lips managed to rub onto his beard slightly, turning the hairs around his lips pink. For what seemed like two hundred years of kissing, Ra’s opened his eyes and pulled slowly back from the kiss.

Both of his arms were wrapped around her waist, keeping her close to his body. As he kissed her, it was as if he was back in Revolutionary France. Neither of them had aged a day since they last looked upon each other. But this time, he had no intention of letting her go. He had totally forgotten about the setting sun behind them although the orange rays bounced through the glass towards them. “It’s like fate has brought us back together again. Somehow, I always knew our paths would cross again. For better or for worse.”

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The problem with keeping secrets from an immortal is that they have an eternity to discover them, especially if they're ones you won't take to your death. And though his words are somewhat threatening, she doesn't exactly feel threatened. The approaching sunset makes her feel so bold, even though she's yet to have her nighttime powers, because even if he abruptly decides to be cruel to her now he'd have so little time to make her suffer before he'd discover his mistake.

So unlike him, she is completely at ease as she sits on his lap, though not merely because she doesn't fear being harmed but because she suspects that he'll go so far as to accept her being there. And she can see the effect that it has on him, though it's not enough to convince him to share his secrets yet. But that isn't her only goal here anyway. She watches him as he answers her question, and she seems to become deeply thoughtful at his reply. Of course being worried about her safety is ridiculous. And if he hesitates to tell her that there have been women besides her since they met so long ago, he'd probably think she's a complete slut if he knew what her love life has been like since then. Though when he mentions his loneliness it seems to catch her a little by surprise. "I understand completely..." she replies quietly, for he's not the only one who has experienced that particular drawback of living such a long life.

When his lips meet hers, she practically embraces the kiss - losing herself in it for a moment. For once she finds herself forgetting exactly how long it is until sunset, though they're now at the point where she can't really tell anyway - is it this second or that which precisely defines the end of day or the beginning of night? It's simply imminent. At times when she reaches this point she gets terribly impatient, whether she actually wants the change or not, as it's going to happen and she simply wishes to get it over with. But neither the sun nor the curse that's attached to it care about her timetable - instead it's always their own. But at this moment she actually finds that she's enjoying the wait, as strange as these circumstances seem. Imagine finding that this man is still alive, and now to be here in his arms - who could have predicted this?

Though his next words, again, seem to cause her to become deeply thoughtful, though this time she quietly comments, "You speak as if you love me, but you hardly know me yet." Though, almost as if on cue, the sun decides to go a long way toward fixing that.

His different senses would give him different and not necessarily mutually compatible information. For an instant, as fast a blink, she disappears from his sight only to be replaced by a different version of herself - one that seems to only halfway be there as it's just as easy to see her as what's behind her. And most of the color seems to have gone as well from her and everything she's wearing - even the wine glass in her hand is affected, the formerly red liquid now a dull crimson brown. At the same time, all the weight of her suddenly leaves his lap, along with the warmth of her body. But the shape is still there, still solid beneath his hands around her waist, and the fabric of her dress feels exactly the same as it did before. But it's as if she's suddenly made of a fine, hollow glass - weightless, just slightly cold to the touch, her skin feeling as fragile as a bubble. Yet she isn't: no force known to science could ever break her in this state - only magic. In fact, she's only solid to the touch right now because she wishes to be - though she's light enough that he could effortlessly throw her across the room, if he lays a heavy hand on her then he'll find himself holding nothing.

There are other, subtler changes - her hair, which had just been long enough to rest on her shoulders, is now long enough to reach the middle of her back. And she looks somewhat younger too, because both times he's met her she had been carefully using makeup to make herself appear to be in her late twenties. Now she's suddenly without it, and the truth of her physical age of 21 is revealed. But there is no warmth to her body - no trace of a heartbeat. There isn't even any movement of the air to suggest that she breaths, even when she speaks.

Because the internal changes only she can feel are just as drastic as the ones that Ra's can sense, she doesn't need to so much as glance at herself to notice that she's changed. There's a lightness and a surge of power, but also a sense of distance from the physical world, as if it's there to her only as much as she is there to anyone within it. But she's used to all this, so she simply smiles and asks, "Remind me of why I should fear death?" Because she's pretty much dead now, and this is a completely normal thing for her. Her voice too has changed, becoming hollow and a bit quieter, as if she's speaking from a very great distance.