nine grains of sand
[after weeks of solitude, holed up in his room, Raistlin shuffles into the library, arms laden with journals, scrolls, and books. he sets them down on an empty table, then starts wandering the stacks. occasionally, he'll select a book or two, bringing it back to the table. once he's got what he needs, he sits down and writes, idly]
Sometimes it pays to stretch a truth. Never to outright lie, however - there should always be some fragment of truth nestled in the falsehood. Then, it becomes believable - no, becomes outright fact. Truth, after all, is a simple matter of perception to the untrained mind.
But I, Paradisa. I am trained. I know you're hiding something, damen du! I can feel it! But why can't I see --
[there's a rough scratch of quill on paper, and a blotted, cut-off line on the page. the silence that follows is the sound of the lightbulb going on over his head.]
[Warriors]
I don't suppose I could ask one of you a favor?
[/Warriors]
[Xellos]
I've an idea.
[/Xellos]
Sometimes it pays to stretch a truth. Never to outright lie, however - there should always be some fragment of truth nestled in the falsehood. Then, it becomes believable - no, becomes outright fact. Truth, after all, is a simple matter of perception to the untrained mind.
But I, Paradisa. I am trained. I know you're hiding something, damen du! I can feel it! But why can't I see --
[there's a rough scratch of quill on paper, and a blotted, cut-off line on the page. the silence that follows is the sound of the lightbulb going on over his head.]
[Warriors]
I don't suppose I could ask one of you a favor?
[/Warriors]
[Xellos]
I've an idea.
[/Xellos]