chrisisofaith | IC Contact

He's quiet again, weighing his words carefully before he picks them. "You trust your sire enough for this? You would include her despite the...problems she's posed to you in past? You would work with her still?"

He doesn't mean to ask that last question, it's implied enough in the rest, but it slips out, quiet and a bit more exposed than he'd intended, but he can't help it. He needs to know the reasoning, if he can.

"There are different kinds of trust," he says after a few seconds to organize what he wants to say of this and how to say it. "In all the time I've known her, two things have been a constant, her dedication to our clan and her desire for order. When you know what someone values above all else, you can predict them to a degree. Trust that they'll take the most certain route to that goal."

He frowns, turning his gaze ahead again. His voice is softer when he adds, "I'm my sire's only surviving childe. I managed that by never openly coming between her and her goals and by being skilled enough that she came to view me as an essential part of her plans. Others she cut loose, and inevitably they fell. Or she had judgment declared against them by the archons, and they were executed. I worked with her just enough and no more than I had to. That's my trust of Meerlinda. Our ultimate goal is the same, the survival of our world. Everything else is secondary and any feelings I have about her much further down the chain than many other concerns."

He's quiet throughout and more than a beat afterwards as that sinks in. It makes sense...and echoes what he'd been thinking and feeling about the deal with Bane when he decided to make one.

'Are you sure about this?

I can trust him to keep his word, so long as we make sure there's no holes to snake through in the words he gives, this can be tenable.'

Someone lawful, even to their own code, was someone predictable and maneuverable. Manipulate the god of manipulations: such a simple task of course. Gods literally only knew if they'd managed it. But...he still felt it had been worth it. As Grayson said, their feelings were well lower than secondary in comparison to what could be achieved.

He breathes a small sigh that borders on relief. "That makes perfect sense. I hope it goes as well as it can for you."

They're approaching the final turn to take them back onto Marzipan Terrace and it's perhaps a little odd to find he's sort of sorry for it.

The well wishes aren't expected. He shoots him a quick glance. Given what happened just before he found himself here, he's not sure at all things will go well for him. He's not sure he'll be free or existing for very much longer if he's thrown back home. They've had a pleasant conversation. This isn't the time to bring any such thing up.

"Thank you," he says, inclining his head. "I hope so, too, naturally." He is resourceful. He may do well with a head start, especially if he can get to Seattle. Time will eventually tell, most likely.

When they do reach the turn, he stops where he is. "I shouldn't keep you any longer or raise any alarms. I was lucky you were awake and others weren't when I called to you. Let's not tempt fate."

Chris pauses at the turn, glances down the road, and then back to Grayson. "You're right...I expect Jon's likely up anyway and he'd Know you were about. Thank you for the talk and walk. Both have been...helpful." And something to look forward to which was unexpected.

A nicer interaction than he was expecting, but one he'll keep in mind the next time they find themselves coming together.

"May the rest of your night be productive and satisfying to you." He offers with a small smile and an equally small bow of his head, before he turns to make his way back home.

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