So this was just an idea that popped into my head about an hour and a half ago while playing scrabble (yeah don't ask). I couldn't resist writing this down - it was supposed to be just a few notes for later, but I thought what the heck, I've got a three-day weekend, why not use time (for this is not wasting time!) late at night to actually elaborate on my latest brainfart. Yes, I just used the word brainfart. It was either that or brainchild and I'm not sure which this 'story' truly qualifies as. Anyway, I love the idea of the immortal Persian cat, Church, so here are his thoughts!

Also, I plan to add more to this as I am able to, so if you want more, please be patient, and I promise it will come!
Just for clarification: I am not the owner of any of the characters, world or pretty much anything having to do with the magnificent Cassandra Clare's Infernal Devices (or for that matter, Mortal Instruments) books, only really the thoughts the cat as follows...

Saturday June 21st 1878

Finally freed of that hellish crypt-like abode. All I know for certain is that something peculiar and sparkly occurred. I can barely recall any details leading up to my release.

I am not always partial to the scent of the one who saved me. It fluctuated throughout today, I noticed.

Upon arriving in this cavernous establishment, I had long lost all senses save my sight while enduring horrors up until this point. However, I have since regained my senses while here, noticing that I have in fact acquired much heightened senses since… since… Mouse.

Mmmmm. Victuals.

I plan to leave one of my freshly caught and mangled delights on the sleeping area of the one who saved me. He should enjoy my display of appreciation.

Saturday Evening

The one who saved me has an accomplice, well, more of a frequent companion and that companion certainly did not appreciate my demonstration of gratitude. Alas, my furry, warm-blooded offering was returned to me in a rather callous, yet, I suspect, vindictive manner by that dark-haired companion. I find him to be rather obstreperous.

In retrospect, it was never meant for him. He simply claims to be acting on behalf of the one who saved me.

I have yet to discover the reasoning as to why the one who saved me is so often around this raucous creature as opposed to my own delightful company.

I intend to make a contribution, or rather leave a 'pleasant' surprise, to the latter anon.

Sunday June 22nd

There was a short female I was just picked up by. Yes, I did say "picked up." Like a familiar. Yet, there was something different about her, that set her apart from the female evils I dealt with before coming here. Whatever it was, it made me aspire to earn her trust as well as trust her myself.

She acted in charge of everything that went on here. I took it to mean she really was in charge and so proceeded accordingly, purring while in her extensive, bent paws and rubbing the top of my head against whatever came in contact with it first. All in all, not a wholly unpleasant experience. I suppose I might be able to endure such a few times more, particularly as it poses to earn me favour.

I believe the one who saved me called her 'Shore-lit' or maybe it was 'Charlotte.' Yes, that does make more sense. And in return, she named him 'Gem.' Like... nem from nemisis or… hem… or maybe even bem. No, that last one doesn't really make sense. Maybe Charlotte actually meant 'Jem,' derived from James, meaning supplant, as in James the Greater or King James, that is if we're talking humans, because there is always my cousin James, or that annoying rat from last week two cages over from mine, James. Anyway, returning from that tangent.

Jem. That does sound better.

Monday June 23rd

That girl I keep hearing mentioned has apparently been asked and agreed to stay on. I heard someone say her name, at least I think it's Tessa. Or maybe Miss Gray. I sometimes hear her called Teresa.

I sniffed her.

Tuesday June 24th

Occasionally, when either Jem or his freaky companion figure arrive here covered in blood, as they apparently do often, judging by the reactions of the rest of this place's occupants, I get a whiff of them and flashes of the horrid events from creepy town go through my mind.

The first time this happened, Jem entered, limping slightly, but untouched by the putrid, dark fluid that his dark-haired companion seemed to be nearly drenched in. This was the first time a memory came to me, vivid as if it were right after my nap. I recalled several creatures not unlike myself being sacrificed, their fresh blood being used to outline a fantastic and horrifying blackened design that spiraled out from the center of the floor.

The exquisite Jem, noticing my aversion to his companion while I grimaced and pawed at my flattened small nose, came over after shooing away 'Will,' a congenial name, in my mind, which I refuse to associate with the grotesque, rank, dark-haired accomplice.