"How much longer?" A deep voice asked, with a slight hint of grumbling in its words. It is almost imperceptible, even for the most sensitive of the most discerning of words

But

"Are you complaining, my dear brother?" The painter with a paintbrush in hand couldn't help but laugh.

There are only two candles burning in the studio, but there is still plenty of light. Of course, this credit cannot be attributed to the two scented oil candles, in fact, most of the light is emitted by the painter himself.

His skin was white as if it were burning, and the golden glow let out softly from his long supple hair and the wings behind his back, soothing the air and making everything else beautiful and sparkling.

"I thought you knew it when you promised me." The painter shrugged his shoulders and said.

"Know what?"

"It's going to take a lot of time for each other to know about it." The painter chuckled. "Of course, if you want to rest for a while, I'll have someone bring you a deck chair. You can sleep on it for a while, and I promise you, it's very comfortable. ”

"A chair that fits my figure?"

"I take a break on weekdays, brother." The painter shook his head disapprovingly. "What do you think I am? The Camaras Frozen Toothfish that sleeps once a year? ”

The model sighed, but still laughed at the painter's sense of humor.

"No, forget it. Most of the furniture you've made for you needs to accommodate your wings, and I still like to have a solid and reliable touch on your back when you're lying down, rather than two cut-out supports. ”

The painter raised an eyebrow and put his brush down. It is undoubtedly a beautiful work of art, carved in relief throughout, and the warm ivory and gilt give the brush a solemn and beautiful look, exactly like its owner.

Yes, beautiful.

As much as I don't like to use this clichéd descriptor to describe the painter himself, what other word can describe him?

What other words could describe St. Giles more intuitively?

"I gotta say, your words hurt me a little." St. Giles furrowed his brow in a pretended seriousness. "Horus, I remember saying many times how this has affected me in my life."

"But that doesn't stop it from helping you." The primordial known as Horus smiled and said.

Compared to his brother, he was not so handsome. He had no hair, was bald, and under his broad, resolute forehead was a pair of friendly eyes, dark blue, with a hint of brown.

The smile on this face made people feel very gentle, but after a short smile, he also pretended to have a solemn expression, which was quite tacit.

"I'll apologize to you if I've offended you, though." Horus said loudly, and he even bowed lightly as a sign of sincerity. "So, did I offend you, brother?"

He raised his head slightly and looked at St. Giles.

The latter sighed, lowered his head slightly, and straightened his hairstyle: "You really laugh at people, Horus. ”

"When did I say half a word mocking you?"

"yes, you didn't say that." The angel winked mockingly. "You're just turning them into physical movements—okay, don't say that anymore."

Horus nodded clearly, and at the same time as St. Giles wiped the smile from his face and opened a new topic.

"What do you think of what Father and Corax were talking about?" St. Giles stood up, put his hands behind his back, and paced the room that belonged only to him on the Red Tears.

The angel's gait is quite relaxed and natural, like the best dancer, or the deadliest warrior. Horus looked at his brother intently, pondering the meaning behind the words.

It was a few seconds later—after what was already a long thought time for the Primordial had passed—he spoke.

"It's been a long time." Horus said. "Still, Corax seems like a man of few words, and his father. . . You also understand his personality most of the time. If they want to get along with each other, it will inevitably take a while. ”

"Indeed." St. Giles hung his head in thought. "Horus."

He looked up at his brother, and with a strange look in his eyes, he didn't say anything more than call Horus's name. Obviously, he wanted to say something. Horus, on the other hand, did not say anything, but waited silently.

After a while, he reciprocated Horus's silence by confiding a story in a softer tone that Horus had never heard before.

"I was flying to see him." The angel said. "I remember the throbbing of my back muscles as I stretched, and I remember that I flew over a lot of dunes that day, and the feeling of flying wasn't as good as you think, Horus."

"Yes, it's great to be able to break free from gravity, but responsibility doesn't just go away like gravity. I can't remember how long it took me to find him. All I remember is that when I landed, he greeted me without saying anything. ”

"It wasn't like a sound, it was more like."

St. Giles pondered again.

His room is home to many precious works of art. There are one-of-a-kind works by artists, as well as statues or paintings created by the soldiers of the Holy Blood Angel Legion. From beginners' works to master's works, everything is included.

The name of the creator is loaded in a gilded box next to the work, and every word is written by St. Giles himself, and he cherishes it without saying. They surround St. Giles, but none of them can match his brilliance.

He's the most striking treasure in the room.

Horus slowly bowed his head and picked up his brother's words, "It's more like a feeling of your own, isn't it?" ”

St. Giles looked up in surprise, but immediately smiled embarrassedly.

"Yes, how could I forget?" The angel shook his head self-deprecatingly. "You've been with him longer than we have."

"Are you quietly saying something to me?" Horus raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, please, brother, don't start at this time."

"Start what?"

"You know what I'm talking about." St. Giles grimaced.

Horus finally couldn't help but laugh: "Okay, okay. You go on to say. ”

The angel looked at him helplessly, trying to recall the feeling he had just felt when he was meditating, but he could no longer grasp it.

He sighed softly and said, "He calls me a son, a primordial, a general, an integral part of a great cause. He told me everything, but you know what I was thinking? ”

Horus didn't speak, but encouraged St. Giles to continue.

"Fear." The angel whispered. "He didn't hide his thoughts from me, he showed me everything. A legion, thousands of glory, endless victories across the sea of stars"

"But I can see more, Horus, you know. I can always see more. I also saw the shadow cast by the statue of victory, and the screams of the countless dead in the shadow. ”

"But you said yes." Horus said in a firm tone. "Everything has a price, brother."

"Yes, but I promised him, but it was because he also promised me." St. Giles finally smiled again. "I went to see him with a sense of uncompromise and unyielding, it was a father-son conversation, but it was also a deal."

Because of this, the conversation between me and him did not last long, but from what I know, my experience is an example. I'm worried that the time he spends will incur not very good results. ”

"Maybe even the opposite?" Horus asked.

"Yes."

Horus Lupecar smiled slowly.

"Don't worry, brother." He burst out laughing. "Father will take care of everything, anything, anything—St. Giles?"

The angel stood in place, staring blankly ahead. His gaze was not on any point in the room, but farther away. Horus frowned and looked at St. Giles' gaze, only to see the walls and paintings.

He strode to St. Giles, looked at him worriedly, and said no more. A few minutes later, St. Giles came out of his state as if he had just woken up from a dream.

He gasped softly, his wings vibrating unconsciously. The wind whistled and the canvas collapsed, splashing paint on the carpet and creating a frightening black.

"What's wrong, St. Giles?" Horus asked worriedly.

The angel did not answer, and for a moment his face seemed to become a mask. There was no trace of the past mildness behind those eyes, only the coldness of Senhan. It was a few minutes before he began to answer Horus's words.

"I see—" St. Giles paused. "—I don't know how to describe to you what I've seen, Horus."

He frowned, pondered, and broke free from Horus's grip and began to pac further, St. Giles could not have been more evident in his thoughts.

Horus did not speak, but remained with him in silence through this difficult time, even though he was actually ignorant of the current situation. He observed St. Giles' expression, trying to find a possible clue from it, but found nothing.

In fact, St. Giles' musings were rather secretive, with no outward emotions revealed. Twenty minutes later, the angel let out a sigh of relief from that fearful state.

"I apologize to you." The first thing he did was apologize to Horus. "I'm sorry, Horus, I'm just. Somewhat shocked. ”

Horus nodded silently.

St. Giles pursed his lips and turned his head to look at the long porthole of the studio. In that dark, dead vacuum, his gaze was long and distant.

"He's coming." Bartiten whispered in his native language. "All I can see is very dark."

Updated.

(End of chapter)