Disclaimer: I do not own Saint Seiya. A little bit of spoilers in the author's note.
"How did you do that ?"
"...slow the movements..."
"How ?"
"...concentration... a lot..."
"Where did you learn to do that ?"
"... Siberia...extremely cold weather..."
"Was it difficult ?"
"...years of practice..."
"Interesting technique. I've never seen something that unique before."
"...indeed...it's quite different from the others...
It's implosion versus explosion.
Control versus emotions."
"You make it sound like indifference."
"In a way it is. It's detachment. Coldness. Glacial."
"Don't you get lonely?"
"...no one has ever asked me that before..."
"Is it hard to live like that ?"
"...I would be lying if..."
"It's beautiful though...
White...
Crystals...
...rainbows of light when you look closer.
Thank you for showing me this."
"...it was my pleasure Milo..."
"Goodnight Camus."
Author's note: After 14 years of absence (that long?) it's like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, ehe. Anyway, thanks for reading this very simple fic.
And yes, Milo and Camus are two amazing (two of my favorite) characters. They are both so different, but oh so complementary.
Especially in the heartbreaking Hadès-Sanctuary Chapter... *sigh
Maybe I'll write a sequel, who knows...