[ He looks tired, more than anything, at this. So it's Trench playing tricks again, working everybody up: inventing what-ifs, inventing bad ends. They've dangled the dead in front of him often enough. He knows there's no getting used to it.
Viktor is up from the table, now, with God still standing beside it holding an ignored notebook. Bit of blasphemy to his face, that's fun and new. ]
Is God different from the Emperor? [ He echoes it like a thought experiment, like he's parroting liturgical theorists long dead. Tips the notebook in half a shrug. ] Do I, being a man, make myself God? [ It has the cadence of a quote, the wry turn of a private joke. ] I've collected a lot of titles, over the years. 'The man who became God, and the God who became man...' That's one of my oldest.
I didn't invent it for my ego. [ (Debatable.) ] And I didn't send children to those trials for amusement.
[ Palamedes is counted among children, here, readily. ]
no subject
[ He looks tired, more than anything, at this. So it's Trench playing tricks again, working everybody up: inventing what-ifs, inventing bad ends. They've dangled the dead in front of him often enough. He knows there's no getting used to it.
Viktor is up from the table, now, with God still standing beside it holding an ignored notebook. Bit of blasphemy to his face, that's fun and new. ]
Is God different from the Emperor? [ He echoes it like a thought experiment, like he's parroting liturgical theorists long dead. Tips the notebook in half a shrug. ] Do I, being a man, make myself God? [ It has the cadence of a quote, the wry turn of a private joke. ] I've collected a lot of titles, over the years. 'The man who became God, and the God who became man...' That's one of my oldest.
I didn't invent it for my ego. [ (Debatable.) ] And I didn't send children to those trials for amusement.
[ Palamedes is counted among children, here, readily. ]