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

[bodilesswarrior.livejournal.com]

[looks up at him] Me too.

[again, she smiles, weary and sad instead of fond and wistful] I don't talk about him often. None of us do. It's...nice, to do it. Hurts like hell, but anything worthwhile probably will.

[collector]

You can always speak to me about him, if you like. I can't promise any comfort, but...

[bodilesswarrior.livejournal.com]

[the smile widens, just slightly] Thank you, Brax.

I'm not...that good at receiving it anyway, most of the time.

[collector]

I've encountered very few cultures that take loss easily.

[It is a very generalized way of saying what he means, but he still says it.]

[bodilesswarrior.livejournal.com]

Some people are better than others, though. [her smile turns wry] I don't think any of them live in Gotham.