Re: Pizza Parlor: Pippin and Kratos
Kratos had not previously been aware the school system here was so complete. It was very advanced, even more so than the Spartan one that had taken him and his brother from children to men. He paid for the one his son attended in the Capital, but the boy had never spoken of these Cults, Zealots and Toids. Kratos had no idea what a cryptid was. The way Pippin spoke, however, this was a relatively known thing, if uncommon. He stopped frowning quite so deeply. Perhaps there was little to worry about. Not that he was concerned for his own safety. Rather that he did not want to be living in a nest of large insects he would have to clean out regularly. It interfered with his plans for his yard.
Kratos was Greek. When he did speak, one could barely wade through the accent. He looked down at the fried cheese, took one in his massive hand, and popped it all in his mouth. He chewed contemplatively.
Pippin's beaming smile was not something Kratos had a lot of experience in. Very few people beamed at him. He blinked and worked his way through her questions. She spoke very quickly. His English was not great. He got "axe, seven, awesome, psychic connection, and magical," which was the gist for her questions. Kratos tended to look particularly stoic when people asked about Faye's axe. This was a particular occasion, though. He decided to answer. "The Leviathan Axe. It returns to its owner." That was him, clearly. He did not have it with him; he wasn't even wearing a backpack. "It is made to do these things." Kratos made little scribble signs on the table in front of them, without marking anything, but trying to imitate the act of runic writing. He didn't know the English word for "runes."