Private Conversations

[dominioned]

The confessional before you is ornate and well maintained, ebony colored wood embellished with the visage of two angels. A jet black curtain separates the confessional from the rest of the Church, offering a surprising degree of privacy to any eavesdroppers nearby. Unlike the rest of Krakow, the inside is dimly lit by a small light bulb securely attached to the ceiling which emits a faint red light. While the atmosphere isn't exactly cozy, it is private.

A smooth voice calls out to you once you've sat down, familiar enough to identify the speaker despite the partition between you.

"Welcome welcome. I take it something is on your mind?"

We're in a museum now, Harry.

Comments

[dominioned]

I prefer playing music to both.

[ It's basically a somehow neatly folded origami box now. Not literally origami but close enough. ]

[bawcock]

[ Rembrandt, what even. He's going to have to step closer to get a better look at this 'cause, why. ]

What kind of music?

[dominioned]

Beethovan, Bach, Saint-Saëns, classical if you're not familiar. [ Kind of like this except more box shaped. And not as smooth given the material, but close enough. ]