Up on the Housetop || Open

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Mors was fairly certain he could count the number of words this child said to him on a single hand. Quite different from himself and every other god, except perhaps his own father. Most of the gods Mors had met spoke in lengthy sentences full of unnecessary information, and idle chatter. That was not to say it was a bad thing, he enjoyed it when they would actually talk to him. Depending on who the god was. It was undeniable everyone felt the same way, and apparently Mors was not someone this child wished to speak to. Not in the least. The few words he irked out were for annoyance, and kept as brief as possible. "You are correct. Mrs Simmons got married after her fling with Vulcan." For a moment the thought annoyed him. He would get so upset over the unfaithfulness of his own wife, after he forced her to marry him and has these flings with mortal women. A rather annoying trait of many of the gods. The few who completely abstained from any such actions where the virgin goddesses. Mors in all his heartlessness, and how busy he kept himself with his work still managed to find woman to court. Not on purpose mind you, but it did happen.

For a few moment Mors though about what to speak of next, he'd rather avoid the more morbid side of things. Flicking open his book again he looked down his list of names, wishing he could figure out what other demigods this child associated with. That was of course not possible for him to have without finding the information else where. He did not often need such information unless the soul was one which planted itself to a spot on the mortal world. Moving the soul without tearing it became difficult at that point and Mors would have to bargain, like the business man he was. Of course he was not above simply ripping the soul and shoving it through the doors to the underworld either. "Surely you wish to rant and rave about something, otherwise the malice thoughts would not have caught my attention earlier. I believe it would have been aimed towards the gods or camp, since again, I would not have noticed otherwise. Do you have someone with which you can speak of these things with? Living of course, dragging the souls up from the underworld causes too much emotion in people. There is always the possibility of their mind being blank also."

Mors watched the boy carefully, not sure of what to expect. Though if there was a bet going on he would place money on not a single word coming from the boy. That would also include if the god of death made bets, which he certainly tried not to. Fickle thing that lady luck. Though Mors has seen someone bet against the goddess, that was a special kind of idiot. Perhaps up there with the one who would kidnap his niece and think her over protective mother would not bring about the end of the world. Very special kinds of idiocy.

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credit to thefartismurder.tumblr.com

Edmund wasn't wasting his breath on anyone, most of all a god. Too many people here talked in elaborated sentences: going on and on and on, being superfluous, and giving information that wasn't necessary. It was like they couldn't help themselves. Like they just needed to hear themselves talk. Then of course, there was Edmund who was the complete and exact opposite: short, blunt, to the point, emotionless, and sometimes just a mute. This particular night he was leaning more on the side of one word answers and muteness. Mors was traveling into dangerous, personal waters. Then again, why would he care? He was a god, an immortal. No consequences. They thrived on sticking their nose (and choice other body parts) where they didn't belong. Edmund didn't share anything personal and he resented the file room in the principia and a couple of gods in particular for knowing certain things about him. He glared off into the darkness as Mors stated the obvious. She had gotten married to James: Edmund's real dad. Together they had given him his real sister. And together, they had all died because Edmund wasn't able to control himself.

And speaking about gods going on in length, Edmund just stayed silent, staring at the shadowy figures of the Legion before he decided to answer Mors: simply and directly. "No." One word answer Edmund. Abrupt, flat, and short, but to the point. There was no one alive that he wanted to speak to. On the contrary, Ed didn't want to talk at all. He had come into the Legion with his mouth shut, but had, regrettably, found his voice again. Things would have just been easier if he had stayed a mute. The people who Edmund had shared everything with were all dead. And seriously, why was Mors so concerned? This was none of his business. Half the problems around here arose because demigods, gods, and mortals all stuck their noses into places they didn't belong. If the freaking gods had just stayed on Mt. Orthys and hadn't come down to fraternize and cheat with mortals, there would be no demigods. Life would have been simpler. The demigods wouldn't in a world where they really didn't belong; even better, they wouldn't exist. No getting chased by monsters. No having to deal with egotistical gods who didn't give a crap but always pretended they did when it suited them and their selfish pursuits.

OOC: Shamefully short >.< Sorry!
*all the god hate* ..... sorry about that too ._.
IC: 419

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Mors was growing quite tired of the boy, and his complete lack of answers. No that was not right, the boy did give him answers but they held as few syllables as possible. He was not normally one to talk to people anyway, so why was he hear trying to trudge some kind of conversation out of the boy? For a moment it slipped his mind, the moment where he contemplated leaving the boy to whatever grievances he had. Then it came to him. Lilith. He had left her for years, along with Gunnar and his mother. What had become of them? Terrible things. Mors was not this child’s relative, not in the slightest, but this camp was partially his responsibility. As it should be of all the gods. They did not all believe the same, but that was simply more work for Mors. Was that not how it always was? Mors was willing to pick up the slack, just a little. Especially since the main run of the legion was to be left to the Praetors and Centurions. The Augur divined the will of the gods, which was suitable enough, but would it not be easier to tell them themselves? Perhaps have a nice little field day where they visit with their children? No that was simply too much to ask was it not? They had to make a promise to simply claim children as their own, without having their attention drawn by divine born abilities. He had to credit that mortal for that promise, it was a good one.

None that he could talk to, not a single living person? Mors found that hard to believe, but it was not impossible. The thought of his dear departed daughter, driven insane from her own emotions which she had not let surface, that was not something he wished on anyone. Perhaps one last attempt at a conversation, perhaps one last comment before he sat in utter silence until he needed to leave. He would be fine with watching the camp from here, for a time. “I wish to know, because I worry about this camp and it's inhabitants. You are an inhabitant, and I do not wish you to keep your emotions bottled up. However I will not force you to say anything. I will not use any powers on you no matter what you say, or do not say.” there it was. One final paragraph before Mors fell into silence, looking over the sloped hills of camp.

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This wasn't the first time that Edmund Simons had played the "don't crack under silence" game. After almost eight years, he almost considered himself a black belt master. The only thing holding him back? He answered people sometimes. Albeit short, but answered nevertheless. Most people didn't know what to do with silence. A lot thought it awkward; thought it necessary for words to fill the space. Isolation and non human contact was also used as an isolation/torture technique, but Edmund doubted it would have much effect on him. He was use to lack of voice, used to lack of humans. Silences weren't awkward at all; rather, they were more comforting to him than human voice. He'd rather eternal buzzing in his ears rather than eternal monologuing. The night continued to stretch on infront of Edmund as Mors waited for him to make a sound worth more than five syllables. The Syllable Game. Also a good game to play when Edmund didn't want to talk to people (which was, all reality, all the time). The rules were simple: answer in one syllable words until the opposite party either felt too awkward or too frustrated to continue conversation. He had learned the game in grammar school, along with the beginnings of how to fight hand to hand.

There wasn't any single, living person to whom he could divulge everything. No, no. That would entail trust, vulnerability, and scar showing. No no. Edmund was not doing that. Ever. Em had tried to get therapists on his case. It didn't work. Em had tried to get on his case. That didn't work either. Ed's method of therapy? Smash every single object made of glass in his room and throw things at the walls. Hey, who knew? It could have been the start of aim practice before he arrived at the Legion. His wall and disconnected telephone lines got his rants, mostly when he was certain that Em was out of the house. At least he hadn't totally kept them bottled. That was then though, this was now. He didn't exactly have anywhere to rant that wouldn't be seen exactly, so he kept his trap shut. Edmund's dark eyes went back to the shadows of Camp and then up to the twinkling stars. Here, he could see the stars better than he had been able to at home. No streetlights. No city lights. Just open, black sky.

Then Mors's droning voice came again. A short, emotionless monologue. Ed slightly rolled his eyes, reclining slightly, and keeping his mouth shut. Mors didn't care. This was all just a manipulation game. Try to find out what was really wrong. Anything that the gods could use against their children. Well, Ed wasn't playing their eternal chess game of no consequences. Since the god gave him the option to keep his mouth shut, Edmund did. He ignored the god and stared into the darkness. Stared with empty eyes that looked like any and all light had simply been extinguished.

OOC: *horrible person for making you wait but* TADA! 2nd epic thread of Rhia/Ellie es terminado!
IC: 518

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