It was he, now, who regarded her as crazy, following her closer, and her emotions switching from being angry to being confused to being disgusted all in the same space. He supposed it was him who caused all these emotions and him to whom all of them were reacting to. He felt no concern over it. He swept his emotions away and returned to the empty passivity that calmed him.
If there were old gods, then there were new gods, also. But she didn't say which god, she said the plural, as if all of them used the same shrine. "That's absurd. Each god should have their own shrine; are they not all different? This is just a shortcut, a perversity, a convenience for selfish wishing...". He considered that he might be wrong. "Who built it?". He considered what if the shrine was a convenience but for gods so many and minor that they could only be remembered with a human convenience. He sniffed the air, willing his senses as the wolf he once was to tell him more of this structure, but all that happened was his human nose snuffling in a vain, obvious gesture, like it had a cold. He hated the idea of multiple minor gods so minuscule they needed a single shrine, and shooed it out of his mind.
But he held onto the possibility that maybe the memory of this place had been so tarnished that it wasn't remembered for what it was. If age had corrupted its use so badly, whatever the woman knew would likely be of no use; he would need to ask someone centuries or thousands of years old. If there even was such a thing. What if she was that old? He would wait, he words would answer all his questions, or none of them.
After a while, he talked again. "Why did you decide to come here?", she would likely think him ignorant after that one. It was a baited question - sometimes souls did not come on their own decisions, but on the drawing of fate.
