originskey
‘Fun’ isn’t exactly in Kratos’ lexicon, but there were some occasions he did indulge in something that wasn’t work or study. And granted, there were books beside him that weren’t typical leisure reads–how to preserve fruits, how to prepare a house for the winter, an electrician’s guide to heating… homeowner’s manuals, aside from the typical mythologies he’d rented out.
But currently, he turned the pages of Frankenstein, after remembering its monster was what Hunter dressed as for Halloween. So, giving his hands a break from building a shelter for the chickens at the cottage, he sat here with a cup of tea and a book. Until, that is, a familiar figure approached him.
Well. Familiar to him, at least. The Emperor and his student were certainly related by blood, that much was evident at a glance.
“Likewise.”
It’s a bland greeting, blasé in tone, but to Kratos’ credit… he’s a bland personality. But his eyes… locked onto the other’s.
“Is there something I can help you with.”
I doubt it, he thinks, as his mouth responds, “Ah, yes, actually. There’s something rather specific I’ve been looking for...”
He thinks he sees something move through the expression of the other man as their eyes meet; and that has Belos’ own posture relaxing, his smile warming marginally, a smoothly natural response of his own body intended to subtly disarm. What was the meaning of that miniscule shift of the muscles after the man spoke his greeting?
A nonchalant glance is spared at the books already on the table, and he will hold onto the bits of information they offer: this man is active in his life, probably dutiful, and likely a homekeeper, perhaps even a caretaker. Then there are the few tomes that strike on Belos’ interests, too.
“And you certainly seem to be more familiar with this library than I am.”
“Might you be able to point me in the direction of some local mythologies?”
