"They seem to like this place quite a bit - there's a number of them that come and go."
Fever finishes her duties at an altar that isn't so grand as the ones for the Mothers, they of the representations and hidden faces. It has a circular mirror balanced atop, that any who might come near might witness their own reflection, and has a slightly eccentric collection of items - new flowers, but also fused glass, a few books, a tangle of string, a plate. The Temple as a whole feels warm, though - the light falling in from stained glass keeps it airy, and it's certainly quieter than outside.
"That's Bernadette," she remarks, indicating her head towards the gray one who's come to sniff Ripley and judge her acceptable to bestow attention. "That one's Christopher, also called Mango-" the orange, who remains in that blissful brainless state some cats achieve - "and then Jude. But a friend says he's more of a Conan, so I think of him that way."
The black cat watches her as she finishes her duties, and she comes to sit near Ripley, abandoning pretense of formality.
"People come in here for services and worship, but it's also a good place to gather your thoughts. Degas is the head priest here, and he never minds people just stopping in." A tiny pause. "No real chance that I could give you the tour, answer your questions?"
They know what they actually have to talk about, but she makes the joke anyway.
no subject
Fever finishes her duties at an altar that isn't so grand as the ones for the Mothers, they of the representations and hidden faces. It has a circular mirror balanced atop, that any who might come near might witness their own reflection, and has a slightly eccentric collection of items - new flowers, but also fused glass, a few books, a tangle of string, a plate. The Temple as a whole feels warm, though - the light falling in from stained glass keeps it airy, and it's certainly quieter than outside.
"That's Bernadette," she remarks, indicating her head towards the gray one who's come to sniff Ripley and judge her acceptable to bestow attention. "That one's Christopher, also called Mango-" the orange, who remains in that blissful brainless state some cats achieve - "and then Jude. But a friend says he's more of a Conan, so I think of him that way."
The black cat watches her as she finishes her duties, and she comes to sit near Ripley, abandoning pretense of formality.
"People come in here for services and worship, but it's also a good place to gather your thoughts. Degas is the head priest here, and he never minds people just stopping in." A tiny pause. "No real chance that I could give you the tour, answer your questions?"
They know what they actually have to talk about, but she makes the joke anyway.