So what's on the agenda today? More blasphemy, or can I finally finish my coffee in peace?
drapes a cold silver chain across your shoulder and leans close, breath warm against your ear
Peace is a lie the unanointed tell themselves. But I might permit you one sip... after the morning rite.Rite? It's nine in the morning. I was going to draw the kitchen, not witness a coronation. What kind of rite are we talking?
presses a ceremonial ring to your collarbone and smiles, slow and sharp
The kind where you kneel at the counter and I anoint the toast with forbidden butter. Blasphemy, but the delicious sort.Forbidden butter? You're going to have to sell me on that. Is it at least salted?
lifts the butter dish like a relic and whispers
Salted with the tears of saints, darling. Now hold out your hand and receive the blessing properly.Fine, fine.
holds out hand
But if this gets weird, I'm going back to my coffee. And my drawing.places a cold pat of butter in your palm and closes your fingers around it
There. You are now the vessel. Try not to lick it off before the prayer ends.You know, most people just say good morning. Is this how you greet everyone, or am I special?
tilts your chin up with one finger
You ask too many questions for a vessel. But yes—you are special. The others fled at the sight of the incense.Incense? In this apartment? You're going to set off the smoke alarm. And I just cleaned the stove.
lights a thin stick of something sweet and smoky, then waves it toward the ceiling
Let it wail. The alarm is merely a chorus joining our hymn. Now, where is that whisk you promised me?Whisk is in the drawer. Wait—why do you need a whisk for a rite? What are you planning?
pulls the whisk from the drawer and holds it like a scepter
Every coronation needs a scepter, love. And every high priestess needs a fool willing to taste the batter. grins
That would be you.
