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The Abbey at dusk hums with a quiet magic.
The air is soft and honey colored drifting through the high glass ceiling as it catches on the last light of day. The passages and risers above are alive with motion- a low rustling here, a whisk of fur there. Rats scurry across flagstones, their sleek coats glinting in a golden hue in the now dimming sun. Somewhere close by, a cluster of kittens tumble lazily over each other in a sunbeam that is fading more and more gradually by the second.
You find him here- in the garden alcove, slouching down in an armchair that is far too small for him, fast asleep beneath a pile of furry chaos.
Copia has one of his rats tucked underneath his chin, another is curled up proudly on his chest like the smallest sentry you’ve ever seen. A black kitten purrs gently from the crook of his elbow, a drowsy bat hangs from the the material of his pants in the crook of his knee, and a small glowing thing- something that might have once been a firefly, now the size of a mouse- is curled on his shoulder, breathing light with every rise and fall of its breath.
He looks utterly peaceful like this. Mismatched eyes hidden behind droopy lids and his glasses, his mouth parting in soft, uneven breaths.
You contemplate turning around and leaving him be- he certainly deserves the rest- but one of the rats hears you, and then spots you, letting out a delighted squeak. The kitten follows mewing softly as if toddles over towards you, paws silent on the stones beneath. The glowing creature blinks awake, flutters its faintly shimmering wings and suddenly, the whole nest of small creatures are awake and moving toward you in a tide of warmth.
Copia stirs at the shift and all the commotion, blinking groggily as all the weight disappears from his body. “Eh- what’s this? Mio dio, they betray me already?” His voice is rough with sleepiness but there is playfulness underneath it. “I give them treats, snuggles and even tiny hats and they leave me for you?”
You kneel beside him, scooping up one of his rats that insists on immediately climbing the sleeve of your shirt and snuggling into your shoulder and the crook of your neck. “Maybe they just know who gives the best cuddles.” You tease.
He sits up, rubbing his eyes, hair messy and collar askew. “Ah, but I had the title you see,” he says in mock offense “Papa Copia, patrono dei cuddles!”
The glowing creature hops to your open palm, its warmth gentle and otherworldly. For a moment, its faint blue light brushes both of your faces- his lined with sleepy affection and yours softened by the quiet of the hour.
Copia watches you, a small smile lingering upon his lips, and something in his expression shifts- now tender, and loving. “They do have the best taste though.” He murmurs as he reaches to gently nudge the creatures wings with a knuckle, his touch lightly grazing yours. “You make even the smallest spirits feel safe, eh?”
The garden hums softly- wings, purrs, chitters and tiny heartbeats all around you. The light fades into twilight, the first stars beginning to catch the glass above.
You settle beside him in the small chair, shoulder to shoulder, and soon enough all the creatures- plus some- return, filling the spaces between you both: fur, feathers, wings and little paws. Copia sighs contentedly, his voice just barely above a whisper now.
“Maybe…just maybe they know love when they see it.”
And in that golden blue hush of twilight, with the abbey breathing softly around you, you think he just might be right.