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.
"Some of what I know, I know instinctually. Or from TV." And if that's not a phrase to strike terror into the heart of a thinking man, nothing is. Metody's so sincere when he says it, too. "And I've been learning on my own, too. But still - Mom."
Metody watches him with a trace of nervousness, but the creatures ignore his attention. They're too busy leaping at each other and rebounding thanks to the anti-violence field.
"She certainly succeeded in teaching you to respect your elders." The focus of Cronus's attention shifts back to Metody, and he smiles. Perfectly friendly, nothing to worry about.
There is a pause while Metody tries to decide if the man is being sarcastic or not. He's...pretty sure he wasn't being rude. Was he? He smiles uncertainly.
“Indeed.” Cronus can play merry hell with the sarcasm line, but this time he seems to be being perfectly polite (albeit supremely indifferent to Metody’s discomfort there).
But either he has nothing further to say on the subject of mothers or his curiosity gets the better of him, for at this point he nods at the bundled-up creatures gambolling about so merrily. “Your little friends seem to be enjoying themselves, don’t they?"
"Nobody likes to be confined. But speaking of confinements, why the gratuitous textiles? Is there going to be a festival or are you afraid they might catch cold?"
"What a shame. But you shouldn't need to hide their true image away..." He looks back at them thoughtfully. "Tell me, what are you going to do when you meet someone who's terrified by living upholstery?"
He gives the man a wary look, then glances down at his pouncing creatures and shrugs.
"No, they're just bones. I think they're pretty, but I'll admit I've got a skewed view on them. But still, it's not like they're frothing slime or boggling around with six-pupiled fang-filled eyes."
"Well, skeletons do have a long and respected history as icons of horror. But people really shouldn't let themselves be bogged down by stereotypes. Why, some of my favourite beings don't have an ounce of flesh between them."
By this one can tell that he's almost forgiven Thanatos for running him out of the underworld that time.
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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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Metody watches him with a trace of nervousness, but the creatures ignore his attention. They're too busy leaping at each other and rebounding thanks to the anti-violence field.
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"She's a pretty good teacher."
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But either he has nothing further to say on the subject of mothers or his curiosity gets the better of him, for at this point he nods at the bundled-up creatures gambolling about so merrily. “Your little friends seem to be enjoying themselves, don’t they?"
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"They..uh...kind of freak people out. And they made this poor girl cry yesterday. It's better this way, and now they're pretty."
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"No, they're just bones. I think they're pretty, but I'll admit I've got a skewed view on them. But still, it's not like they're frothing slime or boggling around with six-pupiled fang-filled eyes."
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By this one can tell that he's almost forgiven Thanatos for running him out of the underworld that time.
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