At the same moment that Kitalia whispered, “Hush, pretend we are not here,” Kre had spoken aloud, “Come in!”
It was a continual mystery to Kre how, in the absence of sight, that Kitalia’s hand was able to unerringly find the back of his head. After the whap, she grabbed his ear and pulled it close to her mouth as she hissed, “Who could you possibly think it could be, that you think it is a good idea to invite them in?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “It was a reflex! That’s just how we always answer the door back home.”
They heard the door swing open slowly, squeaking on hinges that had now been used twice in a short span of time, after a few centuries of never having been used.
“I do rather miss that sort of small-town politeness,” came a voice that seemed slick with the very kind of substance that the door hinges were missing. “Permit me to respond in kind.”
The stranger clapped his hands twice and the room seemed to erupt in light. When the Kit and Kre could finally see again, they still found the need to blink their eyes to take in the new surroundings. What had once been a ruined church was now a beautiful sanctuary. Broken benches and cracked walls were replaced with sturdy, lacquered pews and intricately frescoed walls.
After he was finally able to take it all in, Kre let out a slow whistle of appreciation. “So, this is what this place looked like way back when?”
“Well,” the stranger said, seeming a bit miffed, “let us not say that it was that far back in time. Some of us are quite sensitive to the idea of being considered old.”
Kre’s attention snapped back to their guest, and he noted that Kitalia’s had never once let her eyes wander from the stranger. He felt instantly guilty that he wasn’t being as cautious as she was, but he didn’t have that sense of danger from their guest that she must have felt, and he couldn’t really explain why.
What he did know is that she was going to express her own opinion on the matter to him later, and at great length. The other thing Kre noticed was that the sounds of chaos from outside of the church seemed to have stopped entirely. Now that he noticed it, it seemed much eerier inside the church and he started to think that Kitaila was in the right of it, not that he would admit it to her.
Now that he looked over their guest, small details seemed to emerge that made him question exactly what he was seeing. The man was tall, easily towering over Kre by at least another head and a half. His hair was jet black, but it was impossible to tell how long it was or even what style he wore it in, as it seemed to shift constantly as if it were alive. He was dressed in crisp white trousers covering a pair of polished black boots, and a thick white long-sleeved button-down shirt that rose up to cover his neck. The black buttons of the man’s jacket, as well as the man’s eyes, seemed to have the same shifting effect as his hair. It was dizzying.
“It is an odd thing,” the stranger said with a wry smile, “that I should ask permission to enter this place from the pair of trespassers like you.”