Verisimilitude

Salutations my lovelies.

It was a night of careful cogitation and heated deliberation with my many personas (six of Royal Albert’s Old Country Roses tea cups of Earl Grey were enjoyed, and a dash of milk with each).

The count, who kept tapping his silver-topped ebony cane against the mahogany desk all throughout the imaginary conference, was the first (and only) one to speak.

“A challenge is what I propose, esteemed friends and colleagues.” He interrupted himself by lifting the warm porcelain to his lips and with his little finger well extended skywards, he sipped the tea (plain with no milk, no lemon, no sugar).

Tap.

Tap.

“A fair challenge for all the worthy ones, for magniloquent reciprocation, my honourable associates,” as he rolled the black wood between his slender fingers. He eyed the congregated surreptitiously and proceeded,

“I thusly invite you and your own, my darlings, to provide me, hereunder, with anything your minds conceive. We will solemnly promise to ruminate and speculate on your brain births you care to share, in due time but with unbound regard. We will nourish and nurture this nascency with amorous devotedness until its begotten bears its own breed, and so on and so forth. ”

He concluded his monologue, by taking another small sip of tea and tapping his walking stick against the desk.

I am not quite sure as to what this meeting of mind(s) produced after its conclusion, I dare say.

I did, however, enjoy the Earl immensely.