A/N:
Whoa, I wrote this on 06102003 as another one of those random 'drabbles as practice pages for layouts'. I found it this morning... it's okay I suppose.***
As he walks in silence he can hear the praying of countless people in the pews: the words that are moving soundlessly from their lips becoming real in the silence. There isn't much to see in the tiny temple, barely even a stained glass window. For a little while now the place has dwelled upon austerity, and Sasarai likes it this way, considering the pointless grandeur he was surrounded by previously. The Circle Palace has become again, and is now more beautiful than it ever was, he thinks, because there is nothing to distract from the simplicity of the pale curves around its walls and high ceiling.
The pulpit is set on a lower dais than it was on before, now two feet from the ground before it launches upwards in a cylinder of pure white. He is striding purposefully towards it; not too fast, because of late he has felt as though time is grinding to a halt and will wait for him. He is unsure whether this is due to contentment or self-delusion. As he reaches his stage, he faces the audience that is so completely engrossed in its own task that they don't notice him stand and waver, hesitant to break the last lingering traces of quiet.
In the end, he decides to leave them to private prayer.
