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The moment in his speeches where he allowed people to ask him questions was always full of silence. It was either the lack of words by the public. Or by the demonstration that silence might have been all they had heard the last hour since the questions had been long answered to anyone who had heard a word of what he said. At least that's how it was at first.
Today, all hands were kept low. He expected that for once, it remained that way.
But of course that there was always that someone who had to crush his expectations.
"Have you ever considered trying to talk with the dead itself through your research, Doctor?"
He focused his sight on who had chosen to join the spectacle this time ; a young, ebony haired boy—not older than seventeen if he had to make a guess— Dressed with clothes as dark as his hair
All that black framing such a pale olive skin that even below the few light that reached you could tell looked so grayish that It was borderline sick.
There was something undeniably weird surrounding the boy. It could be the fact that, despite the lack of nervousness in the voice, he wasn't facing toward the stage, head kept low as the hair fell, hiding it even more. Or that the tone that always had the mediums that bothered him —filled with practice and fake sweetness or just a bunch of delusion — was nowhere in sight. Instead, the boy's voice was deeply calm but ominous.
Talk to the dead? The question felt so ironic given his condition.
"You think you have a way to do such a thing, young man? " A few years ago, his mock would have been genuine. He never liked the people who came through with such nonsense.
Now he knew that it was possible, but the boy didn't know that, nor he needed to. “If you do, go ahead. We all are dying to hear you.”
He expected that would make the guy retreat, he wasn't in the mood to deal with this kind of thing.
“If I do or not, it isn't relevant..” The guy not only didn't hesitate but had the audacity to let the same kind of mockery slip through his words. "Allow me to explain myself" Claymore felt uneasy as two metaphorical needles were pierced down his body, the guy was now looking at him, piercing down his soul despite the calm look on the boy's face. “ For someone who claims wanting to find answers to what awaits us, you only dismiss every single possibility as if you were afraid of what you'll find, or as if you already knew what you'll find at the end of the way. So I just wish to know if, through your research, have you ever tried to get the answer from the source? that's all”
How annoying
He couldn't help but feel that he had been in this situation before, a teen claiming that he didn't do anything except dismissing theories and questioning if he had answer or no
He could swear he hears Alabaster laughing right now.
The auditorium started to fill with whispers and judging glances towards the scenario
people preferring the simple words of strangers made to unnerve him, starting to doubt his life's work. It doesn't matter how many times he had to deal with this; it would always sour his mood even more.
Dealing with this used to be easier. He thought
Back when he was feeding them more than just a spectacle he would just dismiss all this as a bunch of nonsense
no one in the audience that came out with things like this could possibly be in the right back then.
But of course that didn't last forever, it was infuriating how many of these people that had nothing to sustain their beliefs had gotten much closer to the truth than what he ever had.
And today, the boy had been lucky to hit the right spot. It had been years since he started to just pretend he was looking for an answer to something he already knew, after all, it would be lame if a dead Man didn't know what the afterlife was.
“Well that certainly would be easy, but my research wouldn't be the way it is if you could simply ask”
—
The reproductions of Alabaster's laugh had been kind, that boy had been merciless once he got home
He wasn't sure that human lungs and vocal cords could imitate so well the sound of dying seal
“ Wasn't he right though?” It had been little over 2 years since he met Alabaster. And the only way the kid had changed was on how much energy he could pour on being a little shit once he was no longer on immediate death risk
“He wouldn't have a way to possibly know that” the clinking of his spoon against the ceramic mug tortured his ears “ you were an exception. One that i hope doesn't repeat itself”
Alabaster was sipping his own drink at the other end of the table. He would have to remind him to clean the mess of tiny honey drops he left behind when he Stands up to leave, if he had learned something is that the boy would forget about it if he told him this instant. He took a sip of his coffee and the bitterness hit him. He didn't need it anymore but he wishes he could figure out how to make it drinkable and consistent again. Years of someone just knowing what to do had made him rusty.
“ Well the chances of another demigod being around are low, i mean, even being new York i don't think there are enough demigods for that to be likely”
—
Quill and ink must be one of his less favorite writing methods. A wrong move and the tiny bottle of ink spilled all over his papers
Like it had happened just a few moments ago
Curse his father and their old-fashioned and senseless system. Why could Thanatos have an ipad but they still had to use pen and paper for everything else?
Curse Gaea and her little trick with the doors of the dead too.
The Giant war might have been over but the paperwork stayed. Souls that wandered of without knowing or ones that figured what was going on and took advantage of the situation. The list was longer than what it had to be
That conference was supposed to be a stupid moment of fun. Mortals nowadays never were right about their ideas about the afterlife but that was its own type of entertainment in his opinion.
A dead Thanatologist was not in his plans
“Author mysteriously disappears one day and comes backs 48h later with assuring that everything was fine”
Just another soul that wasn't aware they had been dead in the first place. Breaking down the news had become the worst kind of routine
Dr Howard Claymore, a dead man researching the afterlife was such an irony from destiny but not any different from the rest
He would have to pay a visit later.