hm?
The church is an ominous place.
Mumei visits from time to time. It is within her nature as an owl to do so. Just as it is in her nature as a guardian to observe these places where death appears to happen most. Somehow, it feels consensual here; something like that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Time is difficult to measure when Kronii is not with her. No time has passed at all when the sun, from its ever watchful post, fades to the horizon. Delicate moonlight trails to old wooden doors. Cracks in the fine oak are filled with ink, pulsing like miniature veins — as if the church itself is alive.
By then, Mumei knows that it’s not exactly safe to stand where she stands, large wings parted underneath her cloak so the cold breeze ruffles caramel feathers. But she can sense something human beyond those doors, something that has yet to waver in all these years that Mumei has come to visit. The determination is intriguing. There are benevolent gods beyond those doors, contained not by the physical building but by that humane thing so difficult to parse in the sea of stronger, more humane people.
She wonders if it’s possible for someone to be making their home there. What does the inside look like, if the windows themselves are coated in so much black it looks unreal? What things does that person do to keep themselves entertained?
Mumei doubts that there are any religious books or anything of the sort in there. Cults did not always revolve around religion, a fact she remembers from the sheer prevalence of cultish mentalities in civilization.
Her mind wanders as she thinks about all the possibilities. It isn’t until the rustling of leaves behind her catches her attention that she realizes it’s already midnight.
“Mumei,” Fauna’s soft voice calls, and Mumei sighs through her nose.
“Fauna,” she sing-songs in return. For a moment, reluctance weighs heavily on her feet, rooting her to the grass.
Then, she turns as Fauna says, “Come here, Mumei.”
And as she follows the sound of Nature’s voice, she still wonders about that person hiding in the church. Would she ever get an opportunity to slip inside?
…Hm.
Perhaps, curiosity decides.