Chapter 200: Day 199

Day 199,

Rain this morning.  Light, barely more than mist, but hopefully enough to get the chanting going.  We’ll be heading out in a few minutes.  Vernon and Cass will (theoretically) be meeting us either at the cathedral or on the road.  

 

It’s been a long day.  Exciting but tiring.  Informative but bringing as many questions as answers.  

We weren’t even halfway down the path from the house to the side road when we spotted Cass coming toward us sporting her hooded cloak from the floating island trip.  She said that she wasn’t expecting us (mostly me) to be up and about this early.  Cheeky child.  

As for Vernon, we were prepared to wait for him at the turnoff to the cathedral until Maiko pointed out the boot imprints in the mud.  Instead we found him waiting for us under a tree outside the front door of the ruins, staying as dry as he could without actually going inside.  I can’t say I blame him for choosing to get wet.  If I’d had the courage to go into that place on my own I might have done it before now.  

When was the last time the five of us were in the same place at the same time?  The eve of the floating island expedition? I didn’t have long to bask in sentiment over the reunion of my circle of friends before Cass spoke up proclaiming she was getting out of the rain and went on through those things perpetually cracked doors.  (Stuck in the first moments of opening or the last moments of closing?)

This time it was Lin’s turn to stop and gawp at the sight of the interior.  Heh.  I write that like it doesn’t still get me every time.  I’d nearly forgotten the absolute size of the place.  And how is it that a dead and abandoned place can look so different every time I visit?  (Okay, obvious answer with nature and my only visiting infrequently and under different conditions, but saying that doesn’t capture the wonder and I need to stop answering my own rhetorical questions.)

The state of the ruins  was closer to that of my second visit than my third.  The moss, leaves, and vines all vivid in their greenness.  Puddles covering more of the floor than not.  Sunlight from various apertures reflecting off the water to play on every surface.  For even though it still rained, as I said, it was not such a heavy one as to truly blot out this tropical sun.

And that sunlit rain made the difference from that second visit.  Wherever there was a hole in the ceiling water came down in a column, a phantom mirror of those supporting the roof as they divided aisle and nave.  Where on my first visit these made for an eerie - if captivating - sight as they were revealed by lantern crystal, now the multitude of them shimmered in the sun, catching rainbows as the constituent drops splashed back up and scattered as they completed their descent.

And, if we strained our ears, we could just make out a chanting of voices distinct from the rhythm of the rain.

But, alas, speaking of straining the senses, it has grown to be a strain to hold my eyes open for much longer.  Fortunately, unless the mists come tomorrow and the funeral along with them (and I write this from my hidden archival chamber just in case) then I will have little to do on the morrow save for finishing the recounting of today’s exploration.

 

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