"I have limited time in this world and unlimited wonder at it," he said with a bemused smile.
Finn didn't know that Alikhandrian was wrong about any particular point; they were different creatures with different perspectives. Even in Solunarium, Finn had tried to dole his questions out equally among those of the Platinum who deigned to walk among the two-legged people of the desert. That way he hoped not to wear out whatever patience each particular dragon might have allotted him and his curiosities.
As for Alikhandrian's curiosity, "I don't exactly have regular tea with my Golden God, but if I ever find Him in an adventurous mood when you are near, I will invite Him."
If that was a blasphemy, it was not intended to be. If he quieted his mind, he could find that part of himself that was aware of Aværys. That was where he directed his prayers of thanksgiving and his pleas for help. He got the sense that Aværys always listened, whether or not He answered in a way Finn could comprehend. He wouldn't say that Aværys was mercurial, but He had often made an appearance at a time that surprised His Radiant.
"And if you are ever in a storytelling mood, I hunger to know Him better and would be grateful for stories about him from bygone days."
But the meal was set, enough for Finn on his plate, but a platter of other delicacies and small bites—mostly meat—should his draconic guest wish to amuse his bouche. With no further words, Finn cut himself a polite piece and tasted it. When things were fresh and could safely be eaten raw or nearly so, he found there was a delicacy to the flavor particular to that state. Cooked food was, of course, delicious, but it did lose certain aspects to gain others. Certainly, the staff of the prædium had scanned it to ensure there was nothing to the flesh that would sicken the master pro tempore of the house.
Blue eyes unfocused as he let his other senses rest, focusing on the one—taste—and its auxiliary—smell. He swallowed, returned to himself more fully.
"I think I may have had this at one of the feasts," he admitted. "It is familiar, but also... wilder? Perhaps whatever they served at the feast was raised on a farm rather than allowed to roam in its natural habitat. As one might taste what was in the earth from which the grapes drew sustenance in the wine... so this." He paused. Then, "Do you retain your senses when you take a two-legged form or does flesh taste different between less deadly teeth?"
It might be an idiotic question, but it might also be more understandable to a dragon. They were predators, and wise as they could be, there was always something primal about them. What was more primal than the taste of flesh in one's mouth?
