~Character Chat~

Riddle: Oh but it's not really all tha----(is cut off again by T.Mor's hand. She continues talking through it but all that is heard is a garbled mess.)
T.Mor: Excuse her...She's not quite right in the head...Our home plane is really...people die a lot there. For questonable reasons...And it's sort of... You get desensitised after a bit...She is just crazy though...I promise.(Babbling.) So. (Is awkward.To Liz.) How's your governmental employee pay here? And do you all have healthcare?
August: Great small talk. You're a real conversationalist aren't you? (Is amused by the whole situation.)
T.Mor: Yes. Clearly this sort of thing is what I've spent the last 8 or more years doing. Small talk. (Flat sarcasm.)
Riddle: MMrhfgbbrrrrhhhh. (Still has T.Mor's hand keeping her from articulating. She solves this by biting it.)
T.Mor: OW. NOT NICE RIDDLE.
Riddle: I wanted to comment on how bad of a conversationalist you are.(Irritatedly.) You are a bad conversationalist, and probably better off talking to a roomfull of terrified prisoners while holding a gun to their heads. (She doesn't seem upset in the slightest by this.)
T.Mor: Shut up Riddle.(Irritated. Turns back toward Liz.)

Liz: Yeah but we've seen enough death in our lifetime. Andrew cornered me into helping him, we still quote haven't figured out while he's here...
Ezra: Yeah and then you had to get me involved.
Liz: YOUR THE ONE WHO WANTED TO GET INVOLVED! We were doing just fine on our own.
Ezra: Geez I was just kidding...and you wouldn't have gotton his grave moved if I hadn't convinced my family!
Andrew: Still wish you hadn't gotton involved and you weren't related to me...
Ezra: *hits Andrew* Your an ungrateful little....
Liz: *holds Ezra back* And we thank you for helping.
Andrew: *mutters* There is no "we" just "you".

Peter: We're bonders. Death is commonplace.
Sarah: Again, cultists who can kill you with one touch.
Peter: Plenty of our number fall every day. ...Of course, that's not to say that we ourselves don't kill. But T.Mor's right; after a while, you stop feeling bad and start feeling numb.

Riddle: Or you start feeling a bit decompos---
T.Mor: RIDDLE!
Riddle: What?I am trying to imput my Feelings into this. I know a lot about death.
T.Mor: If you tell them I'm going to...I don't even know.(Has no more wierd threats to make off the top of his head.)
Riddle:How is that a threat then? And how come Peter and them were allowed, but YOU've arbitrarily decided these nice people and their toast...er...ghost can't know? What up with that?
T.Mor: Because Remember how Peter told us that people would flip out about it?
That's why. I don't need people flipping out right now.
Riddle: Oh. I see.
August: I know we were all having loads of fun talking about death here, but can we please not? It makes me nauseous.(Childishly.)

Andrew: First off I am NOT toast...I am a ghost, And secondly may I inquire what tou are talking about?
Ezra: I don't flip out anymore.
Andrew: You flip out on a daily basis.
Liz: This talk of death is depressing. I see and hear enough of it.

Riddle: Death isn't depressing it's--
T.Mor: Riddle. No bad puns. PLEASE. (Impatiently.) Are you all sure that you won't flip out? Because it's sort of...Erm...
August: Traumatising?
Riddle: Fascinating?
T.Mor: Nasty. Or neat...If you're...SOME people...(Stares pointedly at Riddle.)
Riddle: It's only neat when I'm not a gory mess.
T.Mor: Well, I guess there's no REAL harm in telling them...

Andrew: Gory mess?
Ezra: So which is it?!
Liz: We won't flip out...well I won't flip out can't make any promises for these two.
Andrew: I won't.
Ezra: Stop stalling and tell us already!

Riddle: Can I T.Mor?? PLEASE?
T.Mor: (Gives up.) Fine.
Riddle: I'm Immortal! SEE? (Starts peeling duct tape from her knee, and the leg- composed of calcified bone- drops off. She continues peeling other duct tape spots, an after a second makes a nasty face.) Crap. Stupid maggots...always gettin' all up in my grill...(She pulls several maggots out of the decomposing wounds that were hidden beneath the duct tape on her arms.)
T.Mor: Riddle- Put it away.(Squicked out by the decomposition) That's not healthy. I thought you brought preservatives?
Riddle: Erm. YES. I did. Just not insecticide.... (She continues flicking maggots off her flesh.) But...uhm. Yeah. SURPRISE?

Andrew, Liz, and Ezra: ......
Andrew: What's with the maggots?
Ezra: So is she like the "living" dead?
Liz: *hits Ezra and Andrew* Stop being rude!
Ezra: What?! I only wanted to know!
Andrew: ...
Liz: May I ask..just... how?

Riddle: People kill me a lot...I decompose. Maggots like Decomposing flesh.
August: Form what I understand She's kinda like a zombie...only not hungry for brains...
Riddle: (Somewhat offended.) I am not a zombie. (The mood passes.) Man- noone has tried to kill me for real yet! I swear, the nicest people on the planet come from dimensions I've never even been to!
T.Mor: (Answering Liz) Riddle is sort of a gift from the ...major deity in our universe to her dad, who wanted immortality for himself, but the deity screwed up, and sent him Riddle. We're collectively glad he's not immortal.
Riddle: It wasn't a screw up- It was a 404 error.
T.Mor: The difference?

Andrew: When was the first time you "died"?
Ezra: So I WAS RIGHT! *turns to Liz* HA!
Andrew: *mutters* That's a first...
Liz: You guys don't sound like you "like" her dad.
Andrew: *turns to T. Mor* What about you? Are you like her?

T.Mor: Nobody likes her dad- He's the dictator. I work for him because he killed my parental units and Guards are the highest paying jobs in the whole city. I work...worked (Forgot that he doesn't work there any more.) For the guy who was responsible for killing my parents, and driving the whole city into ruin. Of course I hate him.

Peter: Heck, we don't like her dad, and we don't even come from that universe!
Sarah: The guy. Has. No. FACE.
Senet: Eet's...deestuhrbeeng.
Peter: Oh, and, ghost kid...sorry, I never learned your name...I hope you realize that T.Mor and Riddle can't see you. But to answer for him, no, he's not like Riddle. T.Mor is perfectly mortal.

((I thought they couldn't see Andrew...? What happened to that? And for the record, I was typing this before Invisimort responded, and I didn't see until after.))

(What happened was I forgot to read name tags...I fixed it.)
Riddle: You get used to the facelessness-- You really do. (Somewhat warm towards her dad.)
T.Mor: No. No you don't.

Ezra: Yeah I've got problems with my dad too...
Liz: No face?
Andrew: It's Andrew... Andrew Johnson.
Ezra: So if you didn't like her dad then, how do you know her?

((I thought so too but let's go with Liz and the other have been the translators))

(Erm...I just went back and cut the line to fix it, actually...It's almost like it never happened.)

T.Mor: She started annoying me on guard duty on my first night working...and covered me for a bit while I went to find a bathroom...I had really poor planning when I was 9...And when I got back, my boss...Riddle's dad- had caught her and whisked us both away for a night full of torture...yeah. Best friends through cold blooded torture. It wasn't as nice as I'm making it sound...
Riddle: No...No it wasn't that nice.

Andrew: Torture?
Ezra: Best friends through torture by your best friend's dad... how nice...
Liz: You were NINE?!

T.Mor: My parents were killed when I was 8...It took me two weeks to find the best paying job so that me and my sister could keep up the rent on our parents house...and training took like 3 months. I had my 9th birthday while pretending to be 13 and learning how to kill people with things.
Riddle: Yeah...But my dad went easy on him...his credentials were apparently "excellent" (Put on a creepy accented voice for that last word.) And he lied appropriately about his age...so stuff was OK!(Doesn't realise how awful all this sounds.)

Ezra: That sucks...
Liz: You have a sister?
Andrew: I had to work too...*reminisise*

Riddle: YES. He has a sister. I HATE her. She makes me want to strangle things with axes.
August: That's not...That's not possible.
T.Mor: (Quietly to August) Yeah, we know. It's fine.(Back to everyone) Ana is...well...She's kind of insistent on things being her way...And Riddle always eats all her silverware.
Riddle: Ana Namechov irritates the crap out of me.(Conclusively.)

Ezra: You eat silverware?
Andrew: ...
Liz: How come she's not with you?

Riddle: I'm immortal. Silverware is delicious. You do the math.
T.Mor: (Somewhat sadly.) She wouldn't have wanted to leave- Our parent's house meant the world to her. And the bickering would have been unbearable.
Riddle: Strangling things with axes is apparently QUITE violent. At least that's what Senet and I agreed on...

Ezra: I have a question...are you two *points to T. Mor and Riddle*...together?
Liz: *glares at Ezra*
Andrew: It WOULD be violent...

((Pretend this came sooner, when we were on the topic of childhoods. It just took too long to type, but I don't want to abandon it now.))

Peter: Senet's life and mine became a shithole when we were eight, too. Kidnapped by Sybek, forced to be bonders, spent two years in a mostly-abandoned city in another universe while we tried to teach each other our languages.
Senet: See, we zought zat ze ceety was abandoned at fihrst.
Peter: That was until we met some refugees from the nuclear war that had been going on. Oh, and there was the occasional pack of wild, sometimes rabid dogs.
Senet: (to Peter) Don't fohrget ze scahry men een black coats.
Peter: Oh yeah, them. (to the rest of the group) They were the reason that the refugees tried to kill us, because we accidentally exposed our new powers.
Senet: Wasn't ouhr faults, zough! Ze men attacked us, and ze powehrs came out fhrom ze pressuhre.
Peter: I, uh...burned one of the men to death. I...I didn't have a good grip on my powers then, and they went out of control... But the screaming as someone burns alive? That stays with you. Especially when you're eight. Haunted my nightmares for gods know how long.
Senet: So we had to hrun fhrom ze hrefugees at zat point, too. We 'ad to leahrn to fly. Eet was easiehr fohr me, seence weend ees my main type.
Peter: Oh, and there were semi-frequent bombings. Not A-bombs or H-bombs, thank the gods, but still. We had to take shelter from those, too.
Senet: So yeah, two yeahrs of genehral sheetty child'ood. Eet was especially 'ahrd een ze beginning because we couldn't communeecate.
Peter: And now, we can't go home. We can't return home because we don't know where we come from, and it couldn't be found in the archives. Senet and I haven't seen our families for...going on nine years now. We may never see them again as long as we live.
Senet: I try to be mohre 'opeful, but ze topeec often depresses 'eem.
Peter: (quietly) They must think we're dead...

(Both laugh hysterically. And I mean QUITE hysterically. Riddle sounds like a psycho killer when she laughs. It's sort of terrifying.)
T.Mor: (Still laughing) no. I'm just a very good sanity interpreter.
Riddle: Me and romantic things don't jive. Me and violent things DO, however.(Her eyes light up at that. She just remembered something.) When we get back to Peter's plane I'm going to make a genetic cross between a chainsaw and a spork. CHAINSPORK!
T.Mor: Oh god no. (Facepalm.)

(@ Winter Dragon- Ok. I see where it was suppoused to go. I think.)