"Nar-cis-sism n. 1. A psychological condition characterized by self-preoccupation, lack of empathy, and unconscious deficits in self esteem." said the Owl.
"I - " said the Cat, but its reply was obscured by a thunderous fanfare of trumpets and stringed instruments. Unnaturally black clouds roiled overhead and huge drops of rain began smashing to earth.
The Cat was dumbstruck. The Owl hooted happily. "You're flabbergasted! Ah, let me savour this sweet, sweet moment. Did you know, victory has the most extraordinary taste? No, of course not. Let me tell you about it! It's like ambrosia - liquid bliss with just a hint of something...hmm...how shall I describe it? It's like grapes, only much more powerful. Maybe watermelon..." It gloated in this way for some time.
The Cat ignored all this and groomed itself in silence. After a few minutes the two creatures noticed it really was quiet. The fanfare had ceased.
Finally, the Cat said "Perhaps - ", but it was once again interrupted. The Owl could not contain itself - it did a little shuffling dance. The Cat licked its paw in sublime condescension.
"Behold!" bellowed the interrupting voice from above. "I am Icarus the Mighty, and I have been to the Candle Flame - and lived."
As they looked up, the Moth flapped majestically onto the Owl's branch. For a moth, it had remarkable presence. One wing was tattered and singed black; the other bore mysterious markings that looked as if they might be arcane. Around its body was a swordbelt and a fine cloak, and its eyes were shining.
"How do you manage to bellow?" the Cat asked after a short pause.
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