They washed him, shaved his face, trimmed his hair. They gave him clothes, cream colored shirts and pants, and a robe the “color of midnight” with a star bursting from the end of a quill embroidered on its front. No one asked him any questions, and his own were ignored or met with dismissive grunts. He was taken through corridors and into various chambers and told to wait, once with a young man dressed as he was and looking just as bewildered, but his name was called before he had a chance to talk with the young man and he was taken down another hallway, this one opening, its walls festooned with paintings of all different styles, some that appeared very old. One that caught his eye was a portrait of a man in a white suit of armor, holding a bulbous helmet by his side, the luminous moon filling the background behind him. But he only caught a glimpse, and then his feet were treading carpet the same color as his robe and he was brought before the largest woman he had ever seen, filling an entire couch like a chair, a plump and effeminate man standing by her side, a visible pistol at his belt, whispering conspiracies to the woman, who laughed uproariously through a mouthful of food.
--from work in progress, THE BLOOD OF TALOS, The Godgame, book II