"You are a beautiful woman." She had heard them say for the fourth time that day, with only the fifth referring to her.
"Your voice is really beautiful." She had heard them say for the fourth time that day, with only the fifth referring to her.
"Your paintings are beautiful." She had heard them say for the fourth time that day, with only the fifth referring to her.
"That talented friend of yours has died, Sansa. Such a pity that we will not be able to see her beautiful smile anymore, that we will not be able to listen to her beautiful voice, or admire her beautiful paintings anymore."
Sansa remembered how none of those things were like anyway. It had been so long since they had last met. And all she could think back to was the vivid recollection of that friend breaking her favourite pencil in half so she could write.
...
Sansa found herself faced with a souvenir her father had brought home. It was a small statue of a woman grasping at her torn garment. Was it the flowing fabric carved from stone so realistically, her perfectly cut shape or the shy yet attractive expression on her face that was so captivating?
"It's modelled after a woman whom through her beauty showed the world of the Axioms' favour, and benevolence even to the Sins. Had her cloth not been ripped off, her people would have struck her down and lay waste to a figure that the gods themselves had carved so gracefully."
Sansa turned her head away from her father, back to the statue with a frown on her face. This thing is not beautiful. It's not the type of beauty she had been brought up with at least. "What do you think beauty is? Does this thing not present a gross interpretation to you?"
The man knew where his daughter was coming from, and what was on her mind. Beauty comes from attitude and demeanour, did it not?
He rubbed his palm on her head. "This statue is definitely beautiful."
Sansa listened,
"The kind of beauty this statue represents is that which was made by a force outside mortal control, while the kind of beauty you're thinking of, is something formed by the hands and soul of a person for themself. If you ask me, I'd say the beauty you've carved with your heart is much more impressive than that which an axiom had made for you on a whim."
Sansa's eyes gleamed as she stared at the statue in wonder, 'How bright would a person be if they could possess both kinds of beauty?'
———
"Were we to count the stars, Camille, why do I believe that your voice would preserve me for as long as it takes,
That your flowers would not wither even if the soil breaks,
That the sky would shatter but your shelter remains,
That I would lose control on your bed as you take the reins—"
Camille's footsteps came to a halt, his blue eyes glimmering like a reflective pool of affection as he looked upon his beloved. One foot went slowly after the other as he trod closer, replying,
"Were we to count the grains of sand on every shore,
I would not object if only I can hear you sing amidst the waves' roar.
The flowers I give only live by your love and water,
Our shelter persists only by care none other could alter.
As your form embraces me with yearning, allow me to thank it, let our flesh and souls mend underneath your blanket."
No voice could be heard at this time. The leaves rustled violently and the ground continued to shake, but the intense mood did not dampen even for a bit.
Sansa and Camille seemed to have stepped into a different world where the others did not exist, a world where two lovers finally confessed their love to each other after years of silent admiration.
Tenoch watched Sansa stare with longing eyes, her fist clenched in front of her chest, while Hippolytus could barely keep his barrier active.
"What are you doing? Sansa!" Hippolytus coughed, falling to his knees in agony. Because of his failing barrier, the distance began to shorten between the two sides, Camille approaching, and Sansa's feet barely holding their ground. It really looked like she was holding herself back from approaching this man. Had she been entranced? Wasn't Camille the only one who was supposed to have gone insane?
Suddenly, she disappeared, Sansa staring up at Camille as he picked up her hand and smiled warmly at her.
But...
"Why do you not embrace me?" Sansa looked up at him, her expression showing a woman who looked like her expectations had been shattered.
Camille shook his head, the look of sadness appearing so alien on his face, yet sincere beyond doubt. "I know what beauty is, Sansa. It can be a shade, a spotlight, even the mist of an illusion... But not a lie. Hmm... What rhymes with lie, Sansa?"
"San—sa!" Tenoch helped Hippolytus back on his feet as the bleeding man cried out. "Get away from him!"
Camille laughed , "Don't worry. For fear that I might enjoy it, I do not slaughter when I'm high on emotion."
And although he said that, everyone else could almost visibly see that intense emotion disappear from his eyes.
"I can—" Isola had taken a step forward when Hippolytus placed his hand in front of her, asking her to stand back.
He summoned a shell around Sansa's body, forcing a distance between her and the Believer. "Your Totem... Comes last... Isola."
Tenoch looked at Hippolytus's face and nodded. There was not much trust between these four people, however they were all they had at the moment.
What does this man even want? Is he the one that's making Hippolytus bleed?— Tenoch thought. That was already enough to make the strange prophet a valid threat.
On top of that, from the display of spiritual essence Camille had shown just a while ago, Tenoch was now aware that this man's control over spiritual essence was of a level that required a great amount of experience. He used just the right amounts for his Virtue, leaving nothing in the atmosphere for others to trace, and when Camille isn't on the offensive, it seemed like he was a person with barely any essence at all in his body. This especially was the reason why he had no qualms following behind the man into a very isolated part of the forest.
Knowing all this, Tenoch deduced that Camille is a very old Seer, or worse, a Believer prophet.
"Tch! Regardless. If I feel enough of his spiritual essence, I might be able to tell what omen he's from!"
The only reason this Seer considers the information of knowing what Omen Camille is from, to be valuable was just so they could steer out of situations that would give him an advantage.
Hippolytus said as Tenoch stepped forward to push back the aggressor, "Don't hold back... Your abilities all counter his very effectively. You just have too..." Hippolytus took a deep breath, trying desperately to remain conscious and keep his shell active.
"... Do what you think is right."
There was a slight frown on Tenoch's face— it was a look of confusion. Hadn't they all met by coincidence? If so, then how could their abilities counter this person they had never seen before, who they had been following under Hippolytus's request? It wasn't that hard to figure out what had really happened: Hippolytus had sought them out actively, and they did not meet by mistake.
"The three or four of us, huh?" Tenoch clicked his tongue. Camille is definitely not a Seer Prophet. 'And from the looks of things, he's definitely not a normal Believer either."
Tenoch's spiritual essence exploded as he summoned his Beast Totem.
Wrathful hisses escaped the earth, huge orange eyed white snakes spewing out of the ground. One snake was a wide as a fit man's body, with length stretching past even the dense canopy of the forest whilst still being rooted firmly in the soil. The snakes slithered around each other, tying themselves firmly into one single stem, then stretching their heads out like branches.
Before long, a massive fifty meter white tree had erected itself in the middle of the dark forest, its stiff scaly branches peering into every direction. The snakes on the leafless tree had long stopped moving, however that feeling of life— one so intimidating was unmistakable.
Camille looked up into one of the frozen orange eyes of the snakes, his smile appearing ever so courteous and gentle.
The man he sought had seemingly just vanished along with the bright eyed girl. And from the looks of it, the ones the group referred to as Sansa and Tenoch were intent on fighting him.
On a regular day, Camille sees it as demeaning to even waste a breath on those he considered beneath him. However, he genuinely wanted to see where this is going.
There were few other things that Camille enjoyed more than seeing a good scheme crumble for his.