05-31-2020, 12:44 AM
Thalia wasn’t sure even if the words had been in english she would have been much paying attention to their meaning, but the cadence of it was more beautiful than she had imagined. Much as his narrative to her drawings had soothed, this too had an ordered sort of peace about it. She found the attire strange, but such was ritual, and the steep of history left her blinking when her mind slowly caught up to the fact she was sitting at the back of a small church in the middle of Estonia listening to the very actual Pope.
Huh.
It was about then -- as the mournful rhythm of the sermon, before like the play of sleepy waters, suddenly burst into the full force of storm -- that she felt a small tug at the laces of her boots. Presently a small curly head appeared from beneath the pew, blinking bright brown eyes up at her. Thalia blinked back at the small child as a warm soggy hand braced on the cap of her knee, and made a clumsy attempt to climb up beside her. Not wanting to cause a scene, and because they were making a very bad job of it, she scooped the little escaped gremlin up and plopped them on her lap.
“Where is your grown-up?” she whispered, but either the child did not in fact speak english or it -- they, come on Thalia -- was not inclined to be ousted from their new perch. Her gaze cast around for the child’s parent, suspecting to find a blanched and embarrassed face casting about somewhere in return, but all she saw was the backs of heads. Well. Right then. She plonked her arms around the small creature, who seemed a little too warm and sticky for her tastes, and they in turn made a comfortable throne of her lap. A strand of her hair caught in one grubby mitt like a pacifying blanket, and the child’s leg swung back and forth against the flat of her shin.
At conclusion -- it was quite long, wasn’t it? -- a contrite mother collected the urchin with apologetic haste, spewing a litany of words that bounced between english and Estonian. Thalia smiled vaguely at her, and wiped her hands a little down her thigh as the woman turned to corral another child, or maybe children. Then, upon turning, she abruptly found herself far too close to the drooping face of Father Ando, who was apparently afraid that an equitable social distance might allow her to escape, or perhaps become snared by the attentions of another.
The vaguely bemused smile had not had a chance to slip from her face, which she supposed made a pleasant enough greeting in return to his rather more enthusiastic one to her. In fact she didn’t much recall Ando smiling at her before, but he seemed rather more enamoured of her company now as she assured him that yes, it had been quite wonderful. Probably he was just swept up in the majesty that she assumed it must be for him, even if he hadn’t quite got the spectacle he had wanted.
She was wonderfully numb, and a little disappointed when he slowly eased himself down and pat the seat beside him, but, okay, she sat politely anyway as he began to talk.
Huh.
It was about then -- as the mournful rhythm of the sermon, before like the play of sleepy waters, suddenly burst into the full force of storm -- that she felt a small tug at the laces of her boots. Presently a small curly head appeared from beneath the pew, blinking bright brown eyes up at her. Thalia blinked back at the small child as a warm soggy hand braced on the cap of her knee, and made a clumsy attempt to climb up beside her. Not wanting to cause a scene, and because they were making a very bad job of it, she scooped the little escaped gremlin up and plopped them on her lap.
“Where is your grown-up?” she whispered, but either the child did not in fact speak english or it -- they, come on Thalia -- was not inclined to be ousted from their new perch. Her gaze cast around for the child’s parent, suspecting to find a blanched and embarrassed face casting about somewhere in return, but all she saw was the backs of heads. Well. Right then. She plonked her arms around the small creature, who seemed a little too warm and sticky for her tastes, and they in turn made a comfortable throne of her lap. A strand of her hair caught in one grubby mitt like a pacifying blanket, and the child’s leg swung back and forth against the flat of her shin.
At conclusion -- it was quite long, wasn’t it? -- a contrite mother collected the urchin with apologetic haste, spewing a litany of words that bounced between english and Estonian. Thalia smiled vaguely at her, and wiped her hands a little down her thigh as the woman turned to corral another child, or maybe children. Then, upon turning, she abruptly found herself far too close to the drooping face of Father Ando, who was apparently afraid that an equitable social distance might allow her to escape, or perhaps become snared by the attentions of another.
The vaguely bemused smile had not had a chance to slip from her face, which she supposed made a pleasant enough greeting in return to his rather more enthusiastic one to her. In fact she didn’t much recall Ando smiling at her before, but he seemed rather more enamoured of her company now as she assured him that yes, it had been quite wonderful. Probably he was just swept up in the majesty that she assumed it must be for him, even if he hadn’t quite got the spectacle he had wanted.
She was wonderfully numb, and a little disappointed when he slowly eased himself down and pat the seat beside him, but, okay, she sat politely anyway as he began to talk.