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[color=silver][center][h1]~ M O T ~[/h1][/center][/color]
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Mot blinked, stroking his chin languidly as he took in the news. So Hephaestus was dead? How curious. In truth the Canaanite god of death couldn't exactly muster up much of a need to care about the passing itself, they'd barely even interacted after all, even with all the years in which to do so. Yet the fact the demise had even happened in the first place still came as a surprise. Hell, he hadn't been aware any of their number [i]could[/i] die. Never took the time to find out. 

[I]He was the one who brought death after all, not the other way around.[/i]

Sighing, Mot glanced over at Ba'al as he mulled over Morrigan's words, though he didn't linger on him for too long. Out of all the beings here, and all the bad blood between them, his brother was the least likely in his mind to be the culprit. Distance and a lack of extensive mingling with the other gods made sure of that. So, moving on from his estranged kin, Mot cast his gaze around the rest of the room, the gears in his mind churning with each face passed, those belonging to the other gods of death especially.

He knew his own hands were clean, but could the same be said of theirs?

Flinching, Mot let out a small growl as the silence of the room was abruptly broken. Looking up, his eyes found Hera, who was currently casting blame upon the other Greeks gathered at the table. It would have been amusing honestly, had it not been so damn annoying, not to mention pointless as all her outburst did was further complicate things. No doubt stirring up centuries worth of hidden resentments with each word spat, and bringing the entire meeting closer to the precipice of utter chaos. Clearly something had to be done. Some order restored, if only so he could get out of this with his sanity intact.

[color=white]"Not to interrupt..."[/color] Mot began, clearing his throat. [color=white]"But perhaps we should try for a more [i]tactful[/i] approach?"[/color]
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