Chapter Text
Sage was calm. His brush would fly over the bright canvas, painting the most divine landscapes, universes, worlds. When he painted, the world would just run quiet. It was just Sage, him, and himself. He watched the paint dry. Five times he goes through this routine, just like this—one time that he is not alone.
The others footsteps were eerily quiet. To hear him, you must listen closely. Though, he could just feel the Recluses strong, dark presence and felt a bit startled since he never has visitors to his painting room. He didn’t make any noise and only spoke when spoken to.
The Sage turned around, seemingly delighted with a soft smile on his face. “My, Recluse, What has brought you here? Last time I recall, you were making your way back to the Peak of Truth.”
“…I…do not exactly know the answer either.” The Recluse replied, his voice quiet and stern as ever. Silence followed as Sage spun back around, accepting the response, and began painting again. The struggling hermit watched intently, his dark, gloomy aura still filling the room.
“Do you want to know what I’m painting?” Sage inquired.
He was given no response, but he continued nonetheless. “I’m painting a landscape right now. All forms of art are good for the soul, you know. Including painting. By world-building just like this, I can unlock a new variety of worlds I’ve never seen before.” Sage continued painting as he explained, feeling the other’s profound stare behind his back.
His tone and face were alike in terms of being calm, and as he spoke, he radiated a positive aura full of purity. Pristine white. It contrasted immensely and vividly with Truthless Recluse, the one he allowed to join him in his painting room unlike no other. The hermit said nothing in response, yet his expression had changed to a look of slight surprise.
Shivers went down his spine. Not because he was scared, but because he had been introduced to a new perspective.