A few yards away there strung a blown glass bird feeder, from which several crepuscular birds were finishing, and the diurnals just arriving.
"Life is the art of drawing without an eraser." -John W. Garder
Shyloris lifted a dusky green mug from it's coaster and smiled as he caught whiff of the still steaming creamy green fluid.
"I’m bad, and that’s good."
It had the soft bittersweet flavor typical to matcha, and the botanist relished in its nostalgic taste.
"I will never be good, and that’s not bad."
He worried his lip and stared beyond the cloud of steam. Life is like a game, he mused.
"You have to learn the rules of the game."
Eyes blank, as if lost in the wispy curls, far, far away, into the past.
The low melody seeping from the stereo picked up a notch and he went back to sketching the subject of his muse. A rare visitor, and migrating White-Throated Swift.
"And then you have to play better than anyone else." -Albert Einstein
Shylo leaned back and took a long hard stare at the drawing. The brunette had gone a long way, but he had a yet longer way to go.
"Hey, one game at a time."
And he had played many.
A weary sigh left him. It was tiring, all those years of simply existing. Ever since he had accidentally ventured across the Veil and imbibed upon the nectar of transcience. Had drank deep of the paradoxical life imbuing fluids, which ironically, though granted their user an eternity in timelock, itself existed for but a fleeting moment.
"A dream that you don't fight for can haunt you for the rest of your life."
This anomaly of perpetuation hence why impermanence no longer stood as a concern for one who's time had stopped.
Half delirious and frightened he had been, stumbling blindly through the Perfidious Grove, that he had chanced upon the delicate Amaranthinæ Lily. Famished breached the gentle web spun as a physical manifestation of its overflowing Æther.
"There’s no one I’d rather be than me."
Or so he kept trying to tell himself.
"Shylo!"
The brunette looked up at his name, peering over his pince-nez and sketchbook. A smile and he gave a flustered greeting as the small albino wrapped his arms around his mid, leaning up to reach him in the alcove as he did so, "Neiro! How very good to see you this fine morn'.
Shyloris set aside his drawing instruments and dusted the eraser crumbs from his pants, "Ah, but what brings you to my neck of the woods?"
A Cheshire grin stretched across his face and he hastily pulled out a parcel.
"Oh my. What's this?"
Gingerly he picks up the parcel, trying to make sense of Neiro's jabbering, explanations flooding out in seemingly endless streams of sentences.
"-we all pitched in together. Silas said he thought the gift was fine, although Esti says he think another color would've been bet-"
"My dear friend, a moment if you please, I can hardly make head or tails of your words!" he put up a pale and slender hand, the appendage an efficient stop to his overwhelmingly excited friend.
It was hardly an exaggeration, where he thought one sentence would end, it seemed only to continue on and he could hardly grasp the meaning of one before the next was pouring out of Neiro's mouth.
The albino grinned and eagerly watched as he unwrapped the parcel, bouncing on his feet.
Inside lay a new tea set, a glass globe with plastic accents that formed the lid, holster, and handle for the teapot.
"Oh, how pretty." Shylo admired it, scrutinizing yet appreciative. It was a product of Primula, a brand that wasn't quite so big on gaudy labels. Something he was grateful for.
He turned to look at Neiro, "And while I do appreciate the gift, I would like to know just what special occasion it is that I am receiving it for."
To his surprise the other was already running off, hollering for him to wait over his shoulder.
"-and close your eyes!"
The botanist frowned lightly. He hoped it wasn't a jest, he wasn't so fond of surprises.
There was a rush of footsteps, announcing Neiro's return, he scrunched his face as the sounds bewildered him. It sounded heavy and a bit too many.
"You can open them now!"
Shylo did, and before him was a humble, but nonetheless splendid cake with the words "Happy Birthday Shylo" scrawled in blue icing. A single candle protruded from the cake in Neiro's outstretched hands, and a chorus of "Happy Birthday!"s greeted him.
Esti stood to the side, holding a platter of dishes, sporting a large smile, Ken right beside him holding a stack of cups and utensils. The two were sidetracked trying to figure out where to put the clutter down, eventually settling for the other end of the alcove he was nestled in.
Behind them Silas towered over the group, his face passive as ever. Their eyes met for a moment, and he offered a weak smile. Despite the obsidian shades, the man's stare was oddly intense and difficult to hold. Silas gave a small nod and the classic wish-well of "Happy birthday", and he offered his own awkward "thank you" back.
Then there was Neiro, still holding out the cake for him, "Silas was the one who baked it, the rest of us helped with the frosting and decorating."
"If the cake came out strange, you know who to blame."
Neiro pouted, balancing the cake precariously on one hand and pushing at Silas's comparatively giant of a form. "Shush, Syrus."
"Stop that, you'll drop the cake." though he scowled at the pet name, Shylo noted how he squirmed slightly, uncomfortable.
The confection was lifted out of Neiro's hands and plopped on a nearby table Silas pulled over.
Still in the alcove, Shylo watched their banter warmly, somewhat envious of the bond the two seemed to share. A laugh escaped him and he swung his legs over he side, sliding onto his feet to join the merrymaking.
The twins were already pouring soda and juice, and Silas attempting shove Neiro away, growling out curses and jaded words, "No. Cease, no! Desist!".
Shylo grinned, it was Silas's loss. Neiro's affection was unstoppable, and true to his words, the albino had wrapped his arms around Silas's waist, forcing a hug on the tall male.
"Hey, one game at a time."
And he had played many.
A weary sigh left him. It was tiring, all those years of simply existing. Ever since he had accidentally ventured across the Veil and imbibed upon the nectar of transcience. Had drank deep of the paradoxical life imbuing fluids, which ironically, though granted their user an eternity in timelock, itself existed for but a fleeting moment.
"A dream that you don't fight for can haunt you for the rest of your life."
This anomaly of perpetuation hence why impermanence no longer stood as a concern for one who's time had stopped.
Half delirious and frightened he had been, stumbling blindly through the Perfidious Grove, that he had chanced upon the delicate Amaranthinæ Lily. Famished breached the gentle web spun as a physical manifestation of its overflowing Æther.
"There’s no one I’d rather be than me."
Or so he kept trying to tell himself.
"Shylo!"
The brunette looked up at his name, peering over his pince-nez and sketchbook. A smile and he gave a flustered greeting as the small albino wrapped his arms around his mid, leaning up to reach him in the alcove as he did so, "Neiro! How very good to see you this fine morn'.
Shyloris set aside his drawing instruments and dusted the eraser crumbs from his pants, "Ah, but what brings you to my neck of the woods?"
A Cheshire grin stretched across his face and he hastily pulled out a parcel.
"Oh my. What's this?"
Gingerly he picks up the parcel, trying to make sense of Neiro's jabbering, explanations flooding out in seemingly endless streams of sentences.
"-we all pitched in together. Silas said he thought the gift was fine, although Esti says he think another color would've been bet-"
"My dear friend, a moment if you please, I can hardly make head or tails of your words!" he put up a pale and slender hand, the appendage an efficient stop to his overwhelmingly excited friend.
It was hardly an exaggeration, where he thought one sentence would end, it seemed only to continue on and he could hardly grasp the meaning of one before the next was pouring out of Neiro's mouth.
The albino grinned and eagerly watched as he unwrapped the parcel, bouncing on his feet.
Inside lay a new tea set, a glass globe with plastic accents that formed the lid, holster, and handle for the teapot.
"Oh, how pretty." Shylo admired it, scrutinizing yet appreciative. It was a product of Primula, a brand that wasn't quite so big on gaudy labels. Something he was grateful for.
He turned to look at Neiro, "And while I do appreciate the gift, I would like to know just what special occasion it is that I am receiving it for."
To his surprise the other was already running off, hollering for him to wait over his shoulder.
"-and close your eyes!"
The botanist frowned lightly. He hoped it wasn't a jest, he wasn't so fond of surprises.
There was a rush of footsteps, announcing Neiro's return, he scrunched his face as the sounds bewildered him. It sounded heavy and a bit too many.
"You can open them now!"
Shylo did, and before him was a humble, but nonetheless splendid cake with the words "Happy Birthday Shylo" scrawled in blue icing. A single candle protruded from the cake in Neiro's outstretched hands, and a chorus of "Happy Birthday!"s greeted him.
Esti stood to the side, holding a platter of dishes, sporting a large smile, Ken right beside him holding a stack of cups and utensils. The two were sidetracked trying to figure out where to put the clutter down, eventually settling for the other end of the alcove he was nestled in.
Behind them Silas towered over the group, his face passive as ever. Their eyes met for a moment, and he offered a weak smile. Despite the obsidian shades, the man's stare was oddly intense and difficult to hold. Silas gave a small nod and the classic wish-well of "Happy birthday", and he offered his own awkward "thank you" back.
Then there was Neiro, still holding out the cake for him, "Silas was the one who baked it, the rest of us helped with the frosting and decorating."
"If the cake came out strange, you know who to blame."
Neiro pouted, balancing the cake precariously on one hand and pushing at Silas's comparatively giant of a form. "Shush, Syrus."
"Stop that, you'll drop the cake." though he scowled at the pet name, Shylo noted how he squirmed slightly, uncomfortable.
The confection was lifted out of Neiro's hands and plopped on a nearby table Silas pulled over.
Still in the alcove, Shylo watched their banter warmly, somewhat envious of the bond the two seemed to share. A laugh escaped him and he swung his legs over he side, sliding onto his feet to join the merrymaking.
The twins were already pouring soda and juice, and Silas attempting shove Neiro away, growling out curses and jaded words, "No. Cease, no! Desist!".
Shylo grinned, it was Silas's loss. Neiro's affection was unstoppable, and true to his words, the albino had wrapped his arms around Silas's waist, forcing a hug on the tall male.
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