The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 49: There And Back Again

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Arnold Norr."

Kafka cleared his throat and forced himself to stand, still holding his white cloak in his hands. "Allow me to ask you a question, if you will," he said to the Titans.

"What do you think comes first? The body or the soul?"

The two Titans turned to each other. 

"Huh?" Arnold asked.

"Does the body conform to the soul, or is the soul built around the body?"

Atlas turned back to face Kafka. "Put your cloak on and show some respect."

Once again, Arnold spoke. "I'll humor you. The former."

"Put the cloak on," Atlas repeated, his eyes glimmering with a blood-orange glow. The same eyes he flashed at Kafka the night before. 

Kafka hurriedly threw the pale cloak on and slid his arms down the sleeves. He left the hoodie down, leaving his oily and shaggy hair to glisten in the pale light. "You see... Arnold Norr, you, like many others I have encountered, are wrong."

"Another question."

Atlas let out a light chuckle. "Well..." he said, patting Arnold on the back. "I already heard his entire thesis. I'll leave you two to it." He clapped his hands twice as he turned to exit. 

Two wooden chairs appeared in the air, both falling in the same instant. The in front of Arnold fell perfectly onto its legs, while the one intended for Kafka toppled and fell to the side. 

The simple sight of Kafka picking up his chair was enough to make a grin spread upon Arnold's lips. Atlas had left before he could say even a word of thanks, but that didn't matter. "What's the question?" Arnold asked. 

Kafka once again locked eyes with the Titan of the Skies. The only way to get out of this alive was by talking. Even if Kafka agreed with the Golden Dawn, he wasn't going to stake his life on it. 

"My question..." he said, his eyes scanning over Arnold's flashy smirk. "... is on whether or not you believe people have feelings. Emotions."

Arnold remained with his smile plastered against his face as he crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his lap. "You'll give me the answer even if I get it wrong, it seems. So continue. Entertain me."

"People don't have emotions. They have 'souls', but that's not the same. And in this World, I..." he said, pressing his hand against his chest, against his beating heart. "I am the only one who truly understands the composition of the soul itself. And each soul of each person I encounter."

"The soul is what feels," Kafka continued. "And it is far too simplistic to describe that concept as 'emotions'. People tend to overthink what they can't see, of course. But the soul is nothing special. Same as the body, same as the mind. It is life, but nothing more. It just... exists. You feel the same way, I'm sure. About life. It has no weight nor value. It flows... without meaning."

The smile on Arnold's face began to fade. But contrary to his appearance, he was growing more and more amused. He agreed with each word that spilled from Kafka's cracked and dry lips.

"I can see your soul, Arnold Norr. I know who you are and what you've done. I'm not going to say we're similar, but... we do share some ideals. And so, we must live however we want, doing whatever we want. You don't limit yourself. You aren't restricted by any philosophy. When you're hungry, you eat. You do as your will demands. That's why you have killed so freely."

He looked up, finally meeting Arnold's golden eyes. "I support all that you are, Arnold Norr."

Arnold twisted his neck to the side, letting its hollow crackles reverberate into the chamber. And as he shifted his neck to the other side, his eyes glanced onto the floor. More cracking and popping was to be heard. "Well, Kafka Wolfram... It seems this marks the beginning of a delightful partnership."