Neither she nor the child have grown acquainted with the lively bustle of this strange land, judging from what she can see from afar. Every dawn she wakes surrounded by nests, many occupied by cozied lovers or friends. She spends most of her waking hours in the company of some patrolmate or another. At dusk, she withdraws to her prayers, although she cannot shut out the din of cats sharing tongues and gossiping. This place is so tightly woven. It is strange indeed.
Nights, though, are more familiar. The silence under the rounding moon is churchlike, reminiscent of midnight prayers as an initiate. And… she must admit, the careless sprawl of stars across the navy sky is glorious to look upon. Even if she does not deserve such a lovely sight, she cannot quite bear to tear her eyes from it. She will atone for this small sin in some way or another. She does not know why she insists on these little atonements, yet will not broach the greatest atonement of all.
Her teeth snap lightly, an old instinct. A plume of breath spills into the icy midnight air along with the click of canines. She has vague inklings of what they worship here, something to do with the stars above, but she will not profane her mind with these heresies. No matter how welcoming the heretics. Instead, she drops her lids and whispers lowly, " Forgive thy servant her sins. "
The crunch of frosted grass announces the presence of another. Dark eyes spring wide, and Sanctity fixes the visitor with a liquid gaze. " Good even, stranger, " she hails them, unblinking, unmoving. Her head twists swiftly back to the sky. " Hast thou come to gaze upon the stars? "
Nights, though, are more familiar. The silence under the rounding moon is churchlike, reminiscent of midnight prayers as an initiate. And… she must admit, the careless sprawl of stars across the navy sky is glorious to look upon. Even if she does not deserve such a lovely sight, she cannot quite bear to tear her eyes from it. She will atone for this small sin in some way or another. She does not know why she insists on these little atonements, yet will not broach the greatest atonement of all.
Her teeth snap lightly, an old instinct. A plume of breath spills into the icy midnight air along with the click of canines. She has vague inklings of what they worship here, something to do with the stars above, but she will not profane her mind with these heresies. No matter how welcoming the heretics. Instead, she drops her lids and whispers lowly, " Forgive thy servant her sins. "
The crunch of frosted grass announces the presence of another. Dark eyes spring wide, and Sanctity fixes the visitor with a liquid gaze. " Good even, stranger, " she hails them, unblinking, unmoving. Her head twists swiftly back to the sky. " Hast thou come to gaze upon the stars? "
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