Aquinas stands admiring the scroll-work of the central chamber of the Circle of Creation. His hands are held loosely behind him, the very picture of modern day professional: simple lines, well fit pants, a well-worn pair of sneakers. He's not a man who sticks out, nor is he a man who truly commands a room like a celebrity or a president, but Aquinas holds his own.
As a meeting place, the Circle is as arranged as it normally is to receive the whole of Sacramento's Wise, if informally.
Tables for cabals dot the landscape and chairs are a plenty.
There's no food for once, but there is an arrangement of coffees, teas, and other assorted healthy drinks in a rainbow of colors (Try the green one, it's surprisingly sweet).
Only one bit of formality presides over the whole. A table for the Councilors where the Hierarch will take the center chair.
Tonight is a sort of D-Day. Where, with warts and all, a Concilium births itself into being, kicking and screaming like a newborn child.
Ya'll know the drill. One week to enter.