#Im unnormal about my OCs i kiss them on the head

[rainysflowers]

OC Fic - Mountain Deathcamas

Day 5 - "Beauty equals goodness."

Summary: Beauty equals goodness. This shrine maiden proves that in spades. Until she doesn't.

Beauty equals goodness, this much was true. It’s all that anyone can think as they stand there, watching tears roll down their red shrine-maiden’s cheeks, shivering in terror as she begs the princess and her bodyguard and their wandering friend and her companion not to kill her.

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 832

Note: Hi I'm hijacking the Slayers Artober 2023 tag for point two seconds to show off my sweet bby Slayers Puruse OCs oh yeah oh yeah. Hope that that's okay, sorry if its not I can untag it, I just saw the prompt and my brain went, "That is SOOOO Anticlea." and i got carried away :P Might use the whole list, I have ideas and writing more about my Pursue group and my Overthrown party would be sooo fun ^^

Ao3 Link/Full Story under the cut :) It would help me out if u checked out the Ao3 link but dw either way ^^

Beauty equals goodness.

It was a statement that each and every member that traveled in Alidor’s party knew perfectly well, because they had the literal embodiment of the saying right there with them.

Anticlea had always been beautiful, no matter where in life she was. 

She had been beautiful from the moment she was born up until the moment that she’d joined the group on their quest to find the prince of the green kingdom a sweetheart to be his co-ruler. Whilst she looked up at the black-haired man with squinted crimson eyes just barely holding back tears and shining in the light of the setting sun, hands clasped together as if she was in one of the prayers that she must have known well, lips moving rapidly as she spilled out all sorts of desires to come along, she stayed beautiful.

She stayed beautiful through all of it, all of the hardships and pitfalls and breakups and get-togethers that the posse had eventually come to surpass. How she did it, no one could tell.

But what they did know, anyone and everyone out there in the world knew, was that the shrine maiden had that special something that made one simply have to stop and stare.

Perhaps it was her long, black hair that poured over her shoulders and down her back in tight coils, cherry colored eyes filled with a zest for life that matched her loose and airy outfit to a tee. Or maybe it was her small eyebrows and her ever-so-slightly rounded face that did the trick, fixing her with an adorably worried expression whenever her lips weren’t folded softly into excitement. The way she shot innocent glances over her shoulder and spoke loudly like no one had ever told her that she had to quiet down. How she seemed amazed by every little thing in the world around her, loving it all with no end.

It all had a way of making her stand out from the rest, even in a party mostly composed of non-men.

Against the knight Psyche, with her two-toned eyes, her messy hair, and brash attitude, Anticlea seemed put together, albeit naive.

Against the priest Uriel, with their fair skin, empty lavender eyes, and floaty smile, Anticlea seemed inviting and vivacious.

And so, beauty really did equal goodness.

Even when it was late at night and the pair of white magic users stayed up far longer than anyone else, sitting on a log in front of the fire, discussing holy topics and new dance routines that they could duet with one another. Behind them, their long shadows cast outwards into the forest, the light from the fire licking at their skin. Uriel mentioned something or other about a magical performance that they’d managed to bear witness to once, and it sent Anticlea into a giggling fit, her long eyelashes fluttering over her cheek. In the back of their mind, the priest cannot help but feel a twinge of guilt, though it’s through no fault of their own. Things happen, they supposed, even to humans that might not traditionally deserve it.

Even when the group’s quest had led them to the heart of the sprawling desert and in front of the door to a dragon woman’s house. She froze the moment that she opened the door, a palpable sense of complete and utter horror rushing through her deep blue eyes as they widened, a long shiver rolling slowly up her spine and down her arms. The kind of thing that she hadn’t felt in years. It hadn’t fully occurred to her what that truly meant, not until the festival that night, where she sat sipping on tea at a table alone, watching the pair of white magic users dancing on stage, rounding one another with wide smiles and blushing from exhaustion. That feeling was back, far worse than before, and finally something in the antique jar collector’s mind clicked into place.

Even when the sun sat high in the sky and the party was stuck in an ambush, staring forwards helplessly at the heroes of years ago surrounding Anticlea, weapons and magical appendages pointing directly at her. She’s biting her lip, face contorted into a silent sob, hands held up in the air as a weak sign of surrender.

Beauty equals goodness, this much was true.

It’s all that anyone can think as they stand there, watching tears roll down their red shrine-maiden’s cheeks, shivering in terror as she begs the princess and her bodyguard and their wandering friend and her companion not to kill her.

Because beauty equals goodness, and she was beautiful, inside and out, and there was no way in Hell or on Earth that she was not good.

Being good was all she had.

It was her life, it always had been.

She couldn’t hold one of the seven pieces of the demon lord inside of her because she was patient and kind and innocent and beautiful and good.

Right?