Christopher seemed surprisingly enthusiastic about heading with me to the Shrine of Saint Suzanna, surprisingly so.
“So, Miss Maria, where exactly is this shrine?” Christopher had asked shortly after we had left the castle grounds.
“You do not know? It is just at the turnpoint on this path.” I said, even more surprised. Christopher merely shrugged in response.
Soon enough, we had reached the pale silver stone walls surrounding the similarly silver-walled shrine. The soft, lush grass on the ground around the shrine was a sharp contrast to the pale cobbles elsewhere. The grass was also tall and springy, reaching half of the way up to my knee, yet even after I had stomped on it, it bounced back up almost instantaneously.
Christopher entered into the shrine first, though he had stopped at the entrance. I walked up to him and lightly poked his shoulder.
“What are you looking at?”
“A-ah! Oh, I-I do not exactly know, this place is just far more elaborate than I had expected.”
“You have not been here before?!”
Christopher looked away and shrugged.
To be fair, when I first came here, it did exceed my expectations as to how it looks. And it had not changed at all since then.
The silver stone walls and pillars were coloured by torchlight a soft golden yellow. Shards of coloured glass scattered around on the pillars, accenting the intricate carvings. The ceiling was a thickly coloured glass abstract design, predominantly plum and silver, almost spiral-like in pattern. At the far end from the entrance was a stepped pedestal, with an intricately-carved, framed open fire atop it. Above the fire was a beautiful painting, done about one-hundred and fifty years prior.
The painting was of a young woman, skipping along a grassy shore, her straight light brown hair flowing behind her. She was turning at her waist to look at anyone who looked at the painting with a smile. She wore an emerald green dress, matching in colour with her eyes, one of which was closed.
It could have been nothing but a painting of Saint Suzanna.
“This place is beautiful.” Christopher said, looking at me again.
“Indeed, it is.”
“...Do you know if all shrines are like this?”
“No, but I can only assume that this one is only this extravagant due to who it is named after.”
“Ah, yes, Saint Suzanna was the founder of the religion, correct?”
“One of them, yes, alongside her sister, Annabel and the others known as saints. Unfortunately I do not remember their names.”
“So, Miss Maria, where exactly is this shrine?” Christopher had asked shortly after we had left the castle grounds.
“You do not know? It is just at the turnpoint on this path.” I said, even more surprised. Christopher merely shrugged in response.
Soon enough, we had reached the pale silver stone walls surrounding the similarly silver-walled shrine. The soft, lush grass on the ground around the shrine was a sharp contrast to the pale cobbles elsewhere. The grass was also tall and springy, reaching half of the way up to my knee, yet even after I had stomped on it, it bounced back up almost instantaneously.
Christopher entered into the shrine first, though he had stopped at the entrance. I walked up to him and lightly poked his shoulder.
“What are you looking at?”
“A-ah! Oh, I-I do not exactly know, this place is just far more elaborate than I had expected.”
“You have not been here before?!”
Christopher looked away and shrugged.
To be fair, when I first came here, it did exceed my expectations as to how it looks. And it had not changed at all since then.
The silver stone walls and pillars were coloured by torchlight a soft golden yellow. Shards of coloured glass scattered around on the pillars, accenting the intricate carvings. The ceiling was a thickly coloured glass abstract design, predominantly plum and silver, almost spiral-like in pattern. At the far end from the entrance was a stepped pedestal, with an intricately-carved, framed open fire atop it. Above the fire was a beautiful painting, done about one-hundred and fifty years prior.
The painting was of a young woman, skipping along a grassy shore, her straight light brown hair flowing behind her. She was turning at her waist to look at anyone who looked at the painting with a smile. She wore an emerald green dress, matching in colour with her eyes, one of which was closed.
It could have been nothing but a painting of Saint Suzanna.
“This place is beautiful.” Christopher said, looking at me again.
“Indeed, it is.”
“...Do you know if all shrines are like this?”
“No, but I can only assume that this one is only this extravagant due to who it is named after.”
“Ah, yes, Saint Suzanna was the founder of the religion, correct?”
“One of them, yes, alongside her sister, Annabel and the others known as saints. Unfortunately I do not remember their names.”