Several of us own things, in our shop, in our homes, that strangers would only politely say if they saw them, "well that has character", even as they went on to exclaim as to the beauty of some other trinket without real use or function.
It's man's nature. Beauty awakens the souls natural response to living. Man acts on it as we know it is rare, and yet , it is usually a fleeting gift, sometimes with no other value.
Beauty may coexist with character, even as it can be absent of it, blinding us to that fact with its promise.
Character, as well, may be totally bereft of beauty, possessing no more than what is necessary for dependability, its light hidden.
Beauty is uplifting, but when cunning and wisdom is betrayed by evil and ice, gravity and fire, beauty may be as empty as a promise.
Character is calm, the ability to function and endure even with the foreknowing of defeat.
Beauty is the promise of satisfaction, character is the affirmation.
When faced with hard choices, evil thundering towards you to crash loudly into your world, what would you reach for?
Would you reach for the beautiful firearm that sits on the shelf to be admired or the one on your hip. The one unmarked, polished and perfect from its protective possession or the plain and well traveled one with a few scuffs and dings. The one pristine or the one with marks of your courage, etched into the very wood and steel, not to instill envy, but for the hurt and pride and liberty for which men long ago gave their lives for.
I know which one I'd reach for.