The Briar Patch (BP): Ch. 7 - Recuperating

"Zeal!"

When Zeal next came to, it was to an overwhelming pain. Everything hurt. His side especially where the frost flesh was worst, stung with a vengeance of paradoxically searing pain.

But Vye was tugging his arms. He didn't need the Shol's concern, his fretting was only troublesome. And so he brushed back the pain, and forced himself to sit up.

Even having been in the soaking warmth of the hollow, his body still felt frozen to the core.

He barely had Time to rub the sleep from his eyes when a hot bowl was pushed into his hands by a coiled vine.

"Here, you must be starving. I know it's hard, but try to take it slow. The soup is hot and it's not going anywhere."

It didn't stop him from wolfing down the soup as quickly as he could manage. To his pleasant surprise, it was both creamy and savory, and it wasn't long before his bowl was empty, much to his discontent.

The bluepine Shol chuckled, seemingly pleased that the Reaper was fond of the soup, "Plenty where that came from."

A vine took the empty bowl from him and ladled a generous helping of the soup from the pot over the fire and passed it back to him.

Ah. It was the soup the other had been cooking earlier.

It was a hearty meal, filling both his stomach and his sore body with a pleasant and almost sleepy warmth.

Having just awoken famished and in severe pain, it had escaped his notice. At ease and taking the nourishment in at a slower pace, he could discern the elements in the subtle yet complex flavor.

Amidst the wholesome and savory base were undertones of herbal medicine.

Blackfoot, and ground ghost bitterroot. Ones meant aid in circulation, their combined effect numbing pain, and induce drowsiness.

The creamy soup had been especially tailored to expedite his recovery.

It was oddly generous of the Shol. Such herbs were doubtlessly scarce.

Wait.

Zeal lowered his bowl, where did Vye go? He was just here. Usually the young Shol would cling to him in Times of rest.

He spotted his charge nestled flush against the other Shol, looking perfectly content and at home. Not asleep, but very nearly there.

For him it must have been.

Zeal watched the exchange silently, neither of the Shols paying him any heed.

It was the first Time since the Harvest that the young Shol was interacting with one of his kind, and it was evident he had missed it sorely.

The older Shol was nuzzling through his plumes, nipping and gently combing through the base of the tufts and preening him.

It had been a long Time since Vye had his plumes groomed by another, and he would savor it.

Cherishing both the sensation, and the warmth it brought to his Heart. 

Such tender warmth brought back memories. Memories that he couldn't decide if he wanted.

It was difficult to understand.

They were wonderful memories. Sweet memories. Loving and familiar, and oh so nostalgic.

But it made him hurt terribly and tears prickled beneath the comforting darkness of his shut eyes.

Good memories shouldn't hurt. Good things didn't hurt. So why were they hurting him?

Before, they were a source of strength, bringing with them confidence, love, joy, merriment, hope, and bravery.

Now they brought with them the Harvest Moon, a glint of cold steel, the smell of smoke, and the screams that reverberated deep in his chest, ones that shook him to the core.

And yet, even though things hurt worse than ever, it also felt as if something was mending. Though still open and bleeding a river, there was a comforting voice that told him things would get better.

It was complete and utter garbage. Nothing had changed, nothing was okay, and nothing was getting better, but somehow he felt that things would be alright.

Because he was with his kin. And it fulfilled something in him.

Vye pressed himself harder against the other Shol, as if afraid that at any moment they too would disappear, like the fleeting and abrupt loss he had suffered.

For a moment he worried he was clinging too much, but a reciprocating soft squeeze was all that he needed to know that it was mutual.

The Heartbleed wouldn't stop, but they would at least, even if only for a moment, stem the flow as they comforted one another.

But it was a dangerous comfort.

Vye had to remind himself of where he was, what lay ahead of him.

The Briar Patch.

This warmth. This tender loving warmth wouldn't last.

This was but a fleeting moment. An artificial bubble.

A warmth that would soon be lost, and one that he would find difficult to leave, for when he stepped back into the real world, knowing this warmth made the cold that much colder.

Warm, but not enough.

The other's arms tightened around him, and he stared up into the luminescent eyes of the bluepine.

In there he saw understanding, knew that the other was aware of this struggle, for the other had contested with the same loneliness.

Finding another of his kin was something of a hope beyond hopes. Back in the desert he had but followed the Heart's song, a despondent wail that echoed deafeningly in his own Heart, one that he could little tell whether it was his, or another's.

Yet it had resonated within him, and he had followed.

Zeal hadn't understood the seemingly nonsensical manner in which he dragged them to and fro, listening to the whispers of the Heart's Song and land.

Zeal.

Worry nagged ceaselessly in the back of his mind, but the bluepine had shaken his head and gestured for him to stay put.

The Reaper needed rest unbothered. His fussing would only serve to irritate, if not impede the recovery of his wounds. The Bluepine had already taken the volition of dressing the wounds, spreading a thick salve over them to facilitate recovery.

Vye couldn't help but to sneak a peek at the mercenary, and nearly jumped, startled to see the other staring right back.

Though Zeal did well to hide it, he couldn't completely hold back the tremble in his hands, nor the clunky manner in which he held the bowl. Every movement, from moving to tilting the bowl seemed to be difficult for him, and his countenance had a certain touch of tenseness to it, strained.

Vye closed his eyes and sunk into the warmth.

Zeal needed rest, not the burden of his concern.

Enveloped by the blazing warmth of the fire and the tender loving touch he hadn't felt in far too long, did Vye drift off in uneasy sleep. For ever looming was the fear of loss, that he would awaken more alone than ever with no more than a ghost of a touch of his brethren, the fleeting memories but only reams.

"He's asleep if you were wondering."

Zeal raised his head. The dark Shol could only be addressing him. Wouldn't have spoke otherwise.

Even so heavily injured, the Reaper was ever vigilant of his charge, the bluepine mused. Though they would keep it to themselves, quite frankly that the Reaper was able to remain awake, let alone feed himself after those injuries, was impressive.

He was making a grand show of being unscathed, but no placidity could hide from him the extent of the injuries that he was doubtlessly suppressing.

Well, best to just get to it.

"It's Time we had a proper talk."

"We've talked plenty." Zeal shot back nigh immediately.

This went ignored and the severed Shol gave him an exasperated smile that he found unlikable.

Much less so when the hiss of a vine reminded him of where he was. Vye wasn't awake to pacify the dark Shol should there be a relapse of their previous hostility, and Zeal himself was in no shape to take on another brawl. "What are you doing with the Coty?"

"Listen Shol--"

"Hemlockes. Lockes if pressed for Time."

Zeal furrowed his brow and the Shol supplied, "This form of communication has warmed me to the notion of carrying a sobriquet."

"He solicited me asking the boon of my services and discretion for this little endeavor. Nothing goes without his consent. There isn't some grand scheme for you to uncover, sorry to disappoint." Zeal glared at a vine that slithered a tad too close to his shoulder. The conversation was getting old, "This is a business contract. Vye is free to leave at any Time, I'm not keeping him hostage."

"Business, is it?" Hemlockes, "What are the details of the contract."

"Do Shols lack ears as well? Vye hired me for skill and discretion." Zeal bit out.

"As a matter of fact." The nonchalance by which a vine suddenly coiled around his throat, squeezing just enough to be uncomfortable against his vocals, was something most would find disconcerting. "Shols do lack ears, though our hearing is no less intact for it."

Hemlockes didn't move from where they sat, languidly combing a hand through Vye's foliage, "And do reconsider."

But Zeal wasn't most. "You wouldn't break the trust of the only other Shol, your only kith and kin, left."

They heaved a long sigh, "Seen right through the bluff. I must be losing my touch." The vine loosened. 

"Reaper, I realize perhaps my approach may have been lacking. I've grown far too accustomed to the savagery by which most have dealt with our kind. But try to understand where I'm coming from and the difficulties I'm having in believing the entirety of this situation in all its absurdity." Gone was the malice, and all that was left in their tired smile was a paradoxically empty, yet heavy, weight.

Too long they had Lockes believed themselves the last of their kind. Those that survived the Harvest were doggedly tracked, and hunted down in the following days.

It had been brutal, terrifying, and enough to bring one to the verge of the bluff. Many Times Lockes had stood at the edge, wanting nothing more than to join his Ring now over the stars. To return to the Earth that they may finally know peace.

"All I want is to be assured of his safety while in the hands of a Reaper. I would have no reason nor cause to bring harm to you then."

There were a lot of things that bothered Zeal. Things that didn't add up. It must've taken a lot of strength to manipulate an entire grove, yet despite having done so and on top of that, conjuring both offensive and defensive magicks, the Shol seemed to come out no worse for wear.

"Please."

They should've been suffering from aetherical insufficiency from having depleted and overexpended their reserves. Such should've left the bluepine unable to assert themselves. Even Vye had believed that the dark Shol had been thoroughly drained by the scuffle.

Yet here they were, nigh constantly manipulating the creepers around the hollow, using pyromancy, moving as one unafflicted by aetherical deficiency as they should've been.

"I've no reason to trust a dark Shol. It's no less deserving of the skepticism that you've shown me."

There was a pause and Hemlockes burst into laughter, much to Zeal's surprise. Was it that amusing?

"Is that what's been keeping you mum?"

Their laughter subsided and they chuckled, "What is it that you believe a dark Shol is?  Did you think perchance think that Shols are at odds and stand divided based upon something as simple as severance?"


At the puzzled look, Hemlockes only grinned wider.

"There's no reason why Shols wouldn't be, when those of you who've gone dark have turned your back on the Verdance that your kind so reveres."

Reasonable enough, Lockes hummed. Wariness and a healthy dose of skepticism went a long way. But, it was, "Wrong, Reaper."

Of course, such minor differences were perceived to be of import amongst fleshlings. The extensive strife that they wagered all manners of silly wars over, were for sillier reasons yet.

"More likely I am pitied." Hemlockes gave a wry smile before waving their hand dismissively, "Things are not so black and white as your kind believes. Being a dark Shol doesn't mean that I am an embodiment of evil, nor does a darkling stand in opposition to the Verdance that which all is, and is all."

Zeal just studied him.

He hadn't forgotten the horror on his young charge's visage when the other Shol first appeared.

In all the Time that he'd known Vye, the Shol hadn't cried once. Not for those who had gone where he could not reach, not for the family and home that no longer were. Yet his eyes grew moist upon the other's appearance. Zeal had assumed, still believed, it to have been something akin to fear. "Enlighten me."

"Any Shol can defect to the darkness. It simply means I draw from a difference source. One that conflicts with the ultimate objective of any of the Verdance."

The dark Shol's gaze trailed along the living hollow. And for the first Time he noticed that the darker streaks weren't simply alternations in the wood grain as he first believed.

It resonated with him, just as it did with the dark Shol before him.

"It means I suffer to do what I can do. It is a shameful scar that shows to all, how far I was driven into desperation, what I gave up, and what I will have to bear--and suffer, till I too return to the Earth."

"I see no scar."

"That's because you haven't the eyes to look. Or perhaps, can you sniff out when a murderer walks in your midst? It is not so different. But know that no Shol would suffer bearing scars. If I were to liken it your kind, think of an amputee, or your men of broken faces. Few waltz around showing off their prosthetics where hides the true hurts and scars, for it is no badge, but exactly what it is. A mere scar."

At least, not until Lockes would grow comfortable with it. Someday, perhaps they would jest, but not today.

"But he knew."

"Indeed he did."

"How?"

"... We're getting off topic, Reaper. The little Coty asked me to trust you. And you would agree, would you not?"

Zeal said nothing.

"Let it be a mutual then."

"I've little and less reason to believe your words. Vye is naive. "

A low chuckle, "Aye, I'll not deny that. Must be to be consorting with a Reaper."

Zeal grimaced. How easily the severed Shol countered with their quick remarks.

Vines supported Vye gingerly in Lockes's place, and the bluepine stood, stretching delicately before striding across the room and extending a hand to him, "Now that we've both made it plain that we're all fools just the same, I would ask again. Just as I will trust you through Vye's word, I ask that you do the same and trust in mine."

But Zeal didn't take the proffered hand, "The details of the contract are privy to the two of us alone. If you desire the details, ask Vye."

"... As you wish. I have but one last concern." And Hemlockes lifted his pack, "I believe this is your's."

He reached up to take it but was stopped as the dark Shol reached into their coat and whisked out a thin glass vial, filled with a beautiful, viscous, golden fluid, from within the fluffed plumes. "... Are these little vials you carry also just part of the contract?"

"You went through my pack."

"Correction. I asked my dear Crier to retrieve your belongings. This happened to fall out of it. If it means much to you, you certainly didn't treat it so." Lockes returned bitterly.

"I'm sorry, that was me."

They turned at the new addition.

Vye struggled to his feet, careful not to dislodge the vines that were sustaining him. It felt nice not to have a body deadened by a lack of photosynthesis. Shade tolerance and cold climes weren't among the best qualities of a Lowland Shol.

"I wanted him to keep it somewhere within easy reach--in case he needed it."

A fib, and neither of the two in the den looked to believe it. 

But neither did the Bluepine refute the absurd claim. The Coty, for reasons beyond them, was willing to stick their neck out for the Reaper. The Bluepine wouldn't question it now.

"Is that so..." Lockes turned to Zeal, "My apologies, Reaper."

"Zeal."

The severed Shol said nothing and handed the pack over. "It'll be another moon at least before either of you two are well enough to travel again. Until then, make yourselves at home, and enjoy the hospitality of the Alpione Circle."