Out on the porch, if Shadow should venture out, he might spy a fairly familiar face: a smallish black dog, licking its paws and running them behind it's ears, as if washing them (since that's what he's doing: Basenjis do this, it seems. This typist swears they learned it from cats...).
The dog pauses and looks up, it's pricked ears lifting a bit more if that's possible.
Shadow really wishes this was the dog he thinks this is. Really. But what are the odds? Wasn't Jacquel (and just about any of the other gods who were decent people) on his way out himself? What are the odds?
Jacquel gets up on all four paws and stretches, front paws braced on the floor, head lowered, rump lifted. "Doesn't appear to be, from what I've seen," he grunts, then sits down on his haunches. "It isn't the underworld, either. Seems to be a world of it's own."
"That's the name I've heard people use for it," he says, glancing up at the house. "It's as good a name as any. Might have it's own name, but it's stubborn to give it up."
The dog pauses and looks up, it's pricked ears lifting a bit more if that's possible.
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"... er... hi?"
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"I'd rather say it found me - would be more accurate."
Shadow looks around to make sure he's not, you know, seen having a conversation with a dog.
"I didn't think this was what backstage looks like, to be honest, Mr. Jacquel."
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Pause.
"Does it?"
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Shadow trails off, he figures it would be unnecessary to tell Jacquel that talking to a dog on the porch is weird.
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...And then, just as suddenly, he's standing there in his recognizable human form, in his shirt sleeves, but it's obviously him.
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Then again, come to think of it... it's not more imaginative than 'House on the Rock'...
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You know, just in case, it seems like a good thing to ask about to Shadow.
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