Sacris Solemniis

[collector]

[Teapot before him, a plate of pastries beside it, Braxiatel sits at the kitchen table with Strindberg's Ett drömspel open in front of him. Braxiatel stirs sugar into his tea, and a faint smile crosses his face as his eyes flicker to something in the seat to his left.]

[He leans forwards and pours a second cup of tea, then lifts it up to hand it over, the smile widening.] I don't know what you mean by 'ulterior motives,' Comman—

[Braxiatel's fingers tighten on the cup before he can let it go. For a moment, it hangs there, hoping for a hand that cannot take it.]

Ah.

[It is a quiet realization.]

[Braxiatel sets the cup down, away from him. He leans back in his chair and picks up a scone to eat.]

Comments

[collector]

[Braxiatel has seen that sort of look before, has both given it and been given it, and so meets it levelly.] Empathy, not telepathy, is the point in question here. I wasn't aware you were so gifted.

[He can already infer what has changed.]

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

It isn't a gift. I can't return it, for one.

[He bites into the scone to think how to word it.] You can already infer most of the situation.

[collector]

Of course. But I can't know the exact 'why' of your choice.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[Almost irritated.] If I could read everyone's thoughts exactly, it ruins everything I've worked for.

[collector]

Oh, I don't know. I think it'd be something of a task to untangle all that minds think of. All the telepaths I know insist that it's a messy business.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

It wouldn't be difficult enough.

[collector]

Are you enjoying knowing what people feel?

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[Flatly.] No.

[He's taking tea for himself now. Also jam and cream for his scone.]

[collector]

[Braxiatel smiles to himself as he drinks his tea] Other than that, how are you enjoying the Plane?

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[Sherlock drinks his tea as well.] Some interesting people. Mostly boring. This place is gorgeous, though.

[collector]

[Absently reciting:] "What a lovely thing a rose is! There is nothing in which deduction is so necessary as in religion. It can be built up as an exact science by the reasoner. Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its colour are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers."

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[That strikes a strange chord with Sherlock and he pauses, looking down into his tea for a moment.]

...While I can't agree with the sentiment of God, I agree with the general idea. Not all things need to be analysed and taken apart. Some things can be admired for what they are. Like the stars. [He waves a hand vaguely to the space around them before drinking his tea.]

What is it from?

[collector]

[Braxiatel smiles at that, tilting his head to observe Sherlock] "The Naval Treaty." A short story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, starring his most beloved creation, the Great Detective himself. I thought it might . . . [with a gesture] have resonance.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[A bit amused.] The Great Detective is a flattering title. Do you like those stories?

[collector]

I'm fond of them, yes. Does that matter to you?

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

It does mean you already have a firm set of expectations and beliefs about me.

[collector]

Only what I've read in books.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

And so it is inaccurate and biased.

[collector]

It was written by Dr Watson.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[He can't help a laugh.] You should read his blog.

[collector]

[with a laugh] You'd be lost without your blogger?

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[He can't help looking surprised, which should tell Brax enough.] Ah, yes.

[collector]

[Braxiatel himself looks startled for a moment, and then he smiles]

There was a saying at my old school: "Time plays silly buggers with us all." The quote I was referring to said 'Boswell,' not 'blogger.' In reference to James Boswell, if you're not familiar.

[rationalist.livejournal.com]

[Curious.] I said it to him during the recent Moriarty business.

[collector]

There was an incident with an opera singer and the King of Bohemia. Long before any encounters with Professor Moriarty, the lauded author of Dynamics of An Asteroid.