10 minutes later.
"Oh, my goddess! I can't believe I just did that." Rhea blinks repeatedly from her seat across Catalina and Kallias. She made the two sit beside each other. Next to Rhea is Calix Polymina, whom Catalina officially met in survival class.
He is a pretty pale boy with the same crystalline eyes as Kallias, the left ocean blue and right pink instead of the latter's purple hue. His lavender fluffy hair scruffy, reaching his thin lips and framing a deep scar running down his chin to his right collarbone.
Her first impression of the fellow holy child—he's beyond annoying it's illegal.
"You're still on about that?" Calix scoffs. With the back of his hand, he wipes rich pasta sauce from his mouth. "Siblings fight and bitch at each other daily. If you happened to hurt her feelings, I'm sure she'll get over it."
"Our family isn't like yours," whispers Rhea, her brows drawn together. "I've never been so… upfront or spoken harshly to my family. Ever."
"So, you've grown some balls and now want to become a pussy again?"
"Be quiet, Calix. Your words aren't helping her," Kallias chimes in, his smile radiating comforting warmth. "Give it some time, dear Rhea. You're allowed to live your own life. I do believe, though, that she is looking out for you. Most of the time, people aren't who they appear to be. Just in case, listen to her judgment."
'Was that shade at me or himself?' As they chat, Catalina pops open a vial full of translucent blue liquid. The potion is called Remonstrance, and it blocks her cold resistance for a few hours, allowing her to enjoy cold foods and drinks.
Earlier, when she had eaten the sushi given by the handsome young man, Remonstrance had worn off just as she opened the tea. She was highly annoyed for five minutes before stuffing her face and savoring the aftertaste as best as she could to lighten her mood. Only after it became bothersome instead of enjoyable did she drink the tea, which cold beverage was bland and warm.
Setting the empty vial down, she begins to silently dine. The crispy buttery bread melts on her tongue with gravy, and she holds back a groan of delight.
They all sat at a four-seat gray table that is scattered among hundreds of similar ones, ranging from six to ten seats. The cafeteria's dark gray walls are made of rough stone, with purple light illuminating the corners, while silver lights hang from the ceiling in the shape of mythical creatures. Dangling off the wall are trophies and pictures of legendary Ophanim's.
The plates of roasting meat, creamy chicken pasta, steaming bread rolls, and beef stew before Catalina and company wafts the air alongside the smell of sweat and body odor. Tense lively chatter and clattering of silverware against plates glides through the atmosphere.
After finishing her food, she drains a glass of plump grape juice. The sweet liquid slides down her throat in a refreshing wave. She hadn't said a word since she sat down. No one notices. People just assume her quietness is due to arrogance or shyness, however, she is fond of being silent, believing she makes fewer mistakes that way.
Catalina chances a glance to the side, redirecting her gaze to her half-eaten plate for a beat of a second later. She never thought she and Kallias were friends. An acquaintance, maybe. She didn't hate his presence. However, she thinks he hates her presence now, which made her keep quieter than usual out of consideration for his feelings.
'It was not curiosity that led me to ask Kallias about his brother. It was the knowledge of what would happen to our forming bond if I did.'
She isn't self-absorbed as she appears at times; she pushes people away because everyone feels alive, as if they don't have a mind that cowered and made them doubt their own pulse.
She could have sat anywhere. She should have. Why didn't she? It's not like Rhea's forcing her to be here.
Indecision mingled in exasperation brewed in her stomach. 'I know why. Ugh… I want friends.'
"Hey, Rhea, is it true?" Kallias begins, propping his chin on his knuckles. "Was Manon born with half her soul? I heard from Rune once upon a time that she frequently finds shelter in her league members' souls or else she'll start to fade from existence."
"Yeah, it's one of the Camouflage Disease. Manon is the second person in history to be born with it," Rhea says, her voice soft with foreboding. "No magic or healing relic can mend her. She only finds relief in resting in someone's soul, and if she doesn't get twelve hours inside another's soul, her remaining half soul will crumple."
"Pisces have soul attributes," Kallias says, confused. "My mother had the relic, Snowfall Peace. The attribute can't repair souls, but it can make them find peace, therefore if twisted correctly by a cosmic force it can possibly heal your sister, I believe."
"I know. There is the first case of Camouflage Disease. Ayven, the Everlasting Fairytale, was healed using Snowfall Peace," Rhea sighs, prodding at her bread she purposefully shaped like a pizza. "Akira got the idea from that case, but the outcome for my sister was different. Some would say inevitable hopelessness. You know, divine power is omnipresent, yet it picks and chooses who to be omnipotent to."
'Kallias's mother is the only Wife of the Pillar of Star Clan that became an Ophanim. She was friends with my mom here,' Catalina thinks, picturing Manon's features in her head and pitying her. Suddenly, in her peripheral vision, she spots brilliant golden hair and involuntarily whirls her head to the side, catching a quick glimpse of the flirty mystery man.
Through the tinted windows of the cafeteria, there is an arched balcony, and she sees him stride beside a dark skin bearded man with defined features, black short curly hair, a gray suit enveloping his bulky build with long limbs, and fiddles with a silver dagger.
Czar Venezio, the first year's mentor for survival skills.
Catalina pays him little attention, tracing her eyes over the person she's been refusing to ponder much of. He wears a black linen shirt, paired with a waistcoat and trousers. His cuffs are rolled up to his elbows, showcasing brown scarred skin. The scars are crisscrossed, traveling to his forearms and glow with an amethyst light, as if within he is a mythical being himself.
"Is there something going on between you two?" Kallias asks quietly.
She jumps in her seat and immediately hardens her exterior in defense. "What?" She looks at Kallias, her ice blue eyes sparking lighter in surprise.
His smile broadens, a teasing crinkle at the corner of his eyes. "You and Ishaan. I saw him deliver you food in the heavenly realm. I was coming up with a composition to play for the mermaids and ended up successfully acquiring the attention of one. His enlisted demands in the contractor were acceptable."
He grimaces silently, a voice not his own prodding his mind, mangling his thoughts with vile words. 'It was weak. You chose a weak, divine animal. Arian is disappointed. Kill it and choose another one.'
Heedless of his distress, Catalina tests the name: "Ishaan?" A second passes, then realization causes her belly to knot. 'You're kidding me. I'm so stupid!' She slumps forward, pressing her face into her palms, digging her fingertips into her scalp in exasperation and embarrassment.
She knows this name. Everyone knows Ishaan Iniko, the astute son of Ghost of the Sun Blade and heir to the prestigious Sun Clan and Enigmatic Poet of Voyager Seekers, considered to be one of the rookies to lead the world of the next generation of Recollection of Age. His existence makes every life form either respect him, believe in him, loyal to him, or hate his guts to hell.
He is rumored to wear a blindfold and said to have conquered the Leo zodiac path and is currently looking for a way to conquer the others. She recalls just then of a conversation at one of her family dinners about Ishaan's first relic being unknown. It was two and a half years ago.
The infamous heir of Sun Clan became known for Enigmatic Poet; the day he was blessed by the Four Heavenly Sages made headlines in all news throughout the Elysian Cosmos, but strangely not a soul can retell the relic lore.
In the absence of the lore, people built their own, stating he controls the narrative of how people view him and because he's been a poet since his young days, the sages found humor in that and blessed him for his transcribing of aesthetic poems.
She searches through her spatial memory, visioning her storage of memories as a black endless void loaded with countless doors. She unlocks each door one by one and finds no saved memories of Ishaan except the ones this year.
Whenever galas with all holy clans are held, Catalina would hide among her family, following behind one of her parents or elder siblings while Ishaan detests the events, so he would rarely attend, therefore they never encounter each other.
She experiences a flash of modification before comforting herself with the fact that none of it matters. Rumors—whispers spread by people who have no life. A rumor claims he is blind, yet he told her he isn't.
'He could be lying, but what for? Why bother? Ishaan said he and Ziven were friends. Yet, dad always told me brother was a loner.'
Catalina gradually perceives why; Hael Melpomene hates the Sun Clan more than anything. He mentioned on multiple occasions he would risk a war just to kill off that entire bloodline. But Zolani held him back, anchoring him to the rationality of the damage his actions would cost their continent.
'Ziven must have kept his group of friends a secret or dad lied because he was ashamed.' The truth can fall in either direction. She is leaning towards the former for the sake of sanity.
'Good grief, I really need to focus more on the things happening around me or I might get lost in ignorance.'