This time there’s no portal. Cronus simply appears near the sign, and takes the nearest convenient armchair to lounge in. For a minute or so he simply regards the Nexus with an air of strained patience
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"My Mom." Metody smiles brightly. He's a tiny little guy, barely five feet tall, pale, sickly, and dressed in a Hawaiian shirt that looks like a curse from the God of Good Taste. He is orbited by ten or so cat-sized creatures. Their exact shapes are difficult to determine because each one is draped and wrapped in brightly colored fabrics - but they appear to have a long, waving tail fore and aft, each one wrapped in a clever weaving of ribbons.
Cronus might eye Metody momentarily for that answer, but it does seem to amuse him. Just a little.
"And how much of a contribution did she make - beyond the obvious?" He leans forward to look at all those fascinating little creatures. Whatever they are.
"Everything. She taught me how I ought to behave - what I should do, what I shouldn't do, what's right and what's wrong. I learned a little from other people, but she was the one who set out the foundation." He takes a sip from his coffee cup.
Whatever they are, they are extremely well wrapped and well draped. Each one has a roughly oblong body with a skirt hanging around it, hiding whatever legs it has. The skirt is longer in the back than the front - they have jumping legs as well, which briefly show when they leap at each other. The legs, too, are carefully wrapped in fabric and ribbons, given extra traction with a piece of what looks exactly like a circle cut out of the sole of a cheap sneaker. When the legs are bundled up, they fold up at the base of the tail. There's a similar bundled shape at the bottom of the front tail.
"Mothers do wield a power like no other," he has to agree. "But what about your own experiences?"
They're such cheerful looking things. And their master's clearly put some thought into their dress - although Cronus has to wonder why they're covered up so thoroughly.
He barks a short laugh and flashes a grin. His teeth are white and perfect, and his gums are green. "Both, definitely. Like the Chinese curse, I guess."
Cronus smiles. "And just what 'accident of birth' changed your luck?"
Oh yes, he can see that this one is more than the average human, but in the world he knows genetic powers have more to do with supernatural heritage than mutation.
Well, hello there! It's not often he meets a fellow god he doesn't have a grudge against!
"An essential character trait? Interesting." He considers his answer for a second or two. "Personally, I find it so difficult to narrow down... but my personal history comes to mind."
If recent events hadn't thrown things into question, he would have had an immediate answer.
Aww, did He piss off the Norse pantheon as well? Zhil hopes not, as Those guys know how to party.
"Well, I would imagine so. But then, aren't We all defined by Our pasts? Even the mortals are of similar wise in that respect. But what is that key factor that drives you on, the one that determines who You are? It's a tricky question, I know."
Not that Zhil knows about recent events, of course. They oft have a way of muddling things, don't they?
Well, it's unlikely, since Cronus hasn't run into any of them in person yet. But it's hard to keep track of everyone you've pissed off in the course of nearly destroying the world once a week. He certainly hasn't got anything against them.
"Not when you've had four thousand years to contemplate it." He leans on the arm of his chair. "What drives me is quite simple, my friend. The desire to be restored to my rightful place. To destroy those who would stand in my way. To take my revenge."
They do indeed, especially when temporary amnesia is involved.
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"And how much of a contribution did she make - beyond the obvious?" He leans forward to look at all those fascinating little creatures. Whatever they are.
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Whatever they are, they are extremely well wrapped and well draped. Each one has a roughly oblong body with a skirt hanging around it, hiding whatever legs it has. The skirt is longer in the back than the front - they have jumping legs as well, which briefly show when they leap at each other. The legs, too, are carefully wrapped in fabric and ribbons, given extra traction with a piece of what looks exactly like a circle cut out of the sole of a cheap sneaker. When the legs are bundled up, they fold up at the base of the tail. There's a similar bundled shape at the bottom of the front tail.
A few have fake flowers wired to them.
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They're such cheerful looking things. And their master's clearly put some thought into their dress - although Cronus has to wonder why they're covered up so thoroughly.
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"The foundation of it is probably my biology." Which is very much due to luck, as far as he knows.
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Oh yes, he can see that this one is more than the average human, but in the world he knows genetic powers have more to do with supernatural heritage than mutation.
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"And Yourself, sir? What's Your prime determinant?" He has His own hypotheses, naturally, but the Changer's answer should be most enlightening.
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"An essential character trait? Interesting." He considers his answer for a second or two. "Personally, I find it so difficult to narrow down... but my personal history comes to mind."
If recent events hadn't thrown things into question, he would have had an immediate answer.
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"Well, I would imagine so. But then, aren't We all defined by Our pasts? Even the mortals are of similar wise in that respect. But what is that key factor that drives you on, the one that determines who You are? It's a tricky question, I know."
Not that Zhil knows about recent events, of course. They oft have a way of muddling things, don't they?
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"Not when you've had four thousand years to contemplate it." He leans on the arm of his chair. "What drives me is quite simple, my friend. The desire to be restored to my rightful place. To destroy those who would stand in my way. To take my revenge."
They do indeed, especially when temporary amnesia is involved.
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He says it so cheerfully, so confidently, you'd think he actually believed it.
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Omega is currently leaning against the arm of a sofa nearby, perfectly content to observe the going ons of the Nexus at large.
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