Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Harvest Moon

Neiro hummed, a Cornucopia in his arms, laden with an assortment of Shyloris's favorites.

For it was the Harvest Moon, a Time of festivity, merriment, and warmth.

There were the fragile wild berries and foraged fungal clusters, guavas, persimmons, earthy roasted chestnuts, jujubes, steamed pumpkin, a square comb of wildflower honey, crisp and dipped in a luscious chocolate at one end.

But when pushed the door open, the grin he couldn't withhold vanished. There was a noticeably frosty chill in the air.

The brunette herself was staring listlessly at the grey clouds, but turned at his entrance. The smile was distracted, her neat little balls of yarn untouched.

Neiro pulled up a chair beside her, "Hey."

She returned a noncommittal greeting back.

"I brought something for you." he nudged the cornucopia towards her, and she took it. The smile then was warm, and the chill that perforated the room lifted. Just a little.

They talked for some Time, laughed as they shared their misadventures over the years.

And in the natural lull of conversation as they partook of  floral tea Silas had prepared, did Shyloris stare off towards the distance, "It's nice and warm here. Thank you for all you do for me."

"Hey. Don't thank me." Neiro shook his head, "Nothing was given to you. This was your efforts."

"You're too kind." her hands clenched in her lap, "It's nice to be together. With everyone."

She stared at the heavy clouds, "But... What of the Shol?"

It was the Harvest Moon.

The night the reaper's scythe descended.

Neiro's silence told volumes. And the brunette too fell into solemn silence.

"Are they still out there somewhere?"

Neiro shook his head slowly, "Who knows."

You.

She couldn't help but conclude somberly, and instead replied, "... I see." 

She stared at the clouded skies as the first snow fell, "Vye... He must be so lonely."

"He wont be alone. Zeal is with him."

"Do you think they'll find it. The Briar Patch I mean. You know don't you Neiro? Where it is. If it even exists."

Neiro never broke her gaze, her pleading eyes.

But he did heave a heavy sigh that told of the burden on his shoulders. "You know this is out of my hands. It's not within my jurisdiction to dictate another's path, nor change it."

"But are you not here? Have you not changed--changed, everything?" she gestured at the empty room, at all that had accumulated and built up to this point.

For the longest Time Neiro was silent, and just as she thought that perhaps he wouldn't deem her with an answer, he spoke, "You're a good person. Don't ever lose sight of that."

Neiro towered above her, but it wasn't an ominous presence. He had reverted back to the person whom she had first encountered. 

"I don't--"

He shushed her, a low calming tone that was almost melodic.

"I don't--understand."

"I know."

His arms encompassed her in a warmth she didn't know she had missed, and she cried. Cried for the voices that persisted in the gale, for those that she couldn't save, couldn't help.

"It's n-not fair."

"I know."

"Why?"

"..."

He stayed with her long past last light of the setting sun, his arms held her in a tender embrace just as he had when they first met.

The albino offered to stay the night, but she shook her head. She had taken up enough of his Time.

When he left, he gave her a last smile, and a strong, reassuring touch on her shoulder, "Don't worry. They're fighting the good fight.

He tilted her face up, his mismatched eyes peering into her own brown ones, "... and when someone does, it doesn't matter if they fail, or succeed. Because they did what no one else did. They tried."

"It'll be okay in the end. You'll see." 

And then he was gone.

She nestled into her alcove to watch over the snowfall. Just as she had always done. Always just watched.

And she cried to herself.

Because for all her complaints, for the childish tantrum she had thrown, it was her who did nothing.

She hadn't missed Neiro's tense shoulders when she had brought up the implication that it was within his means. 

She had put a burden over him.

The Numen himself, for all his claims of neutrality, wanted nothing more than to intervene. Limitless as he was in the aethor, ever omnipresent, it was within his means.

But it wasn't his right, as he said, to dictate the path of others. 

It was their own path to walk, for better or worse.

Not Neiro's to decide. 

For one to succeed, another has to fail. It was the balance of life. To thrive, another must perish.

And it weighed heavily on his mind.

Survival, not favoritism.