Date: 2009-02-15 07:46 pm (UTC)
He felt something odd, familiar-but-not, when he walked into the lecture hall. Eyes searching for Paul, they finally landed toward the middle for a fraction of a second before he continued the visual sweep, long habits kicking in.

Not someone he knew, then. Too calm to be Seteh, too unfamiliar to be Paul. A new player? Too stable to be Heru as he was the last Peter had known of him. So, likely someone new. It didn't feel close enough to be true-family, another Celt. Just familiar, in the way Paul and Star were after so many years of contact.

So, then. Peter had been giving guest lectures like this for the better part of the last five years, and the practice showed. And he could have fun with them in a way he couldn't when briefing government officials on the latest analysis.

Fun. He never pronounced the Egyptian entirely correctly, on purpose. And on a rare few words, the Gaelic accent crept in despite his best efforts, still. He was, after all, only human. But the words he mispronounced on purpose? Those were puns. A few highly scatological; most, relating in some way to the gods.

Only a god of language and eloquence would pun in Egyptian, after all.
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Ellen Maharet Anscombe

February 2012

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