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

[bit_impossible]

Whereas I do like the truth. [even if he doesn't always tell it] That's always been a difference between us. [adds as an afterthought] Her and me, I mean. [or does he? hmm]

[collector]

[absently] Clarence - !C-Mel in a new form - once told me that God liked to lie by using implied conjunctions.

[bit_impossible]

[firmly] His god, perhaps, but I don't believe in any such thing.

[collector]

Oh, you should. Implication is one of the most simple ways to deceive while being honest.

[bit_impossible]

Dealing with the ones claiming to be gods is enough for me, thanks.

[collector]

[gently] The Worldsphere's God, Thete.

[bit_impossible]

My point still stands.

[collector]

You strongly dislike coordinating conjunctions?

[There's just something about Ten that makes Brax feel irreverent]

[bit_impossible]

[he sighs, rolling his eyes] First lectures, now grammar jokes. What next?

[and there's something in Ten that gets annoyed a bit easier--though this isn't anything new]

[collector]

I couldn't say. I can't predict the future, after all.