Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Dog Day Shorts - Soft and Fluffy

Shyloris had been many things, and she remembered all of them. An alchemist who studied at the Malarkurious Parline Academy, a prestigious and wonderful school it had been. The daughter of a wealthy entrepreneur, an office worker, an instructor at a daycare, a soldier and guard who toiled at the Great Walls, a runaway from the Salem Witch Trials, a salvager of old wreckage as had been common across the veil, the list was endless.

Happy times!

All of the lives she lived, she treasured in memory. And in every one, she would bring back a memory-piece, that held, in whatever life she lived, of dearest sentimental value.

At least once per lifetime she made a point of visiting that one place. Buried in the hollow trunk of an ancient gnarled oak tree, it's roots twisted and rough, but an amazing hiding spot nonetheless.

And so it had been that day that she, for she had been female that previous life, took to the tree, bag in hand and a cozy maroon scarf around his neck. 

Shyloris could not have anticipated what came next. Not in the experience of a thousand lifetimes.

The timelocked child had made it to the grove, past the unnaturally large dandelions that signaled his passage into the veil.

It was there that she met him.

There, before the mountain of treasure was a slender if not gaunt fellow, his hair a lifeless grey. 

The creature had been drawn by the powerful protective barrier cast to hide the stash from would-be scavengers. Amongst her hoard there were several arcane artifacts and such that she had come upon in her thousand lives and counting.

Was he here to pilfer?

If he had there was nothing she could do, for the barrier rivaled its binder's strength, and he had broken through.

Yet it didn't seem to be the big three (fame, fortune, and power) that called him there, for he but sat at the base of great gnarled tangle of roots, slumped against the trunk and resting within the sanctuary of the erected wards.

At her approach the creature's eyes opened and it fixed her with a steely gaze. One that held none of the warmth of the living.

It reminded her of one of those living puppets that were so coveted in the bazaars of Mune Cas.

Stepping lightly, did she tiptoe across the roots, hesitant but ultimately--and with shaking hands, knelt to offer to him a bowl of water.

But it wasn't for him to take.

She wouldn't offend him by handing it to him as an equal. The bowl she placed upon the Earth, backing away with her head still bowed.

A yarrow cutting sat in the bowl.

It was a styptic herb, best known amongst alchemists, botanists, and practitioners of the art for its ability to stem bleeding.

Placed in water, it was a symbol of faith, mending wounds, and truce.

For a long moment the intruder remained silent. Even to one who ever eluded Death's door, it was unnerving to have to keep one's head bowed and neck exposed, for she still felt pain.

Injured he may be, but all it would take would be one deft swipe and she would find herself helpless from cervical dislocation.

To her relief, the peace offering was accepted, as shown when he held up the bowl, not to upend it, but to sip its contents.

But his eyes were upon her. This she felt more than saw, for she kept her's respectfully closed.

Accepted, but distrustful.

And then he spoke with the old tongue.

Her own fluency in the archaic language was scant, and she struggled, to respond appropriately.

"Lisguen parong du gen?"

It went something along the lines of "Do you--the common tongue--voice?"

Shyloris hoped the gesticulations would convey what her eloquence lacked.

Few could discern, let alone break into the barriers she had labored to bind, cast more than a millennium ago. To the unlearned, this place seemed simply nonexistent. To even see it spoke volumes of his ability.

"Paedo Ludilo" it scoffed, then proceeded to speak in the common tongue as he bade, "Child's play"

To her utter horror, it dispelled the barrier. A simple gesture, a wave of the hand, and the centuries old barrier that had held so sturdy, was as it it never was.

"Who are you?" she faltered, slightly shaken as the creature relinquished his mask. The aetherical density was overwhelming. This--whatever he was, had strange Time imprints, his aetherical signature untraceable, but suggesting at something far, far beyond even her own.

Another wave and the wards were back. No... they were never gone in the first place. And she realized then with no small amount of awe and trepidation that he hadn't dispelled the barrier, but remolded them altogether.

"I'd rather not be breaking and entering." he grinned wryly as she stared with child-like wonder at the barrier.

She was quick to pull on a more appropriate expression.

But he ignored the incursion and carried on speaking, "In name, I have many and none, but the most recent moniker would be Neiro."

"Neiro." she spoke, testing the name, "What are you?"

The creature gave a wry smile that failed to reach its eyes, its expression hollow. "Something that shouldn't exist."

Shyloris had her suspicions, but she dared not voice them.

It was then she noticed that he seemed to be clutching something close to his chest. It's grip tightened as he noticed her gaze.

At her curious stare, Neiro reluctantly opened his palm. Within lay a beautiful gold ring of two serpentine dragons, their eyes glowing emeralds and in their mouth a smoldering ruby.

"Few have had the privilege of seeing the epicenter of that which binds all in one."

Shyloris had the suspicion that the creature was speaking in riddles. Something about his mirthful tone.

Nonetheless, she pulled her eyes away from the ring, something oddly difficult and she speculated that it too was an object of immense power. Much like gravity in a spiritual sense, they drew others, and the greater their power the greater the allure.

"Thank you."

She hadn't missed the subtlety of his actions. Just as she had extended a hand of trust by keeping her head down, so too was he returning the gesture by imparting knowledge that was of great import to himself.

Neiro nodded, "Pray let me rest here a while longer, Incarnate."

At her wide eyes, he answered, "Are you not one who has partook of the Amaranthinæ's nectar?"

Shylo shuddered as she remembered the moment her lips had touched paradoxical nectar that mirrored life in death. The heat and chill flashes that pervaded her very core as her life left the mortal shell, yet at the same time, filled her being. Memories of the searing pain that flooded her being came back, for she was still living in the continuum.

From her pallid expression, Neiro let out a knowing grunt, "Aah. I understand now."

"Tis true to its name, the 'Mirror of Paradox', a curse within a blessing-" he gave a sidelong glance at the girl as she huddled within herself, "-or perhaps a blessing within a curse."

A long finger pressed against her chin, lifting her moist eyes to meet his. His gaze was no longer glazed chromatic pools, but instead gentle, the frosty opals carrying with them the pale warmth of a midwinter morning.

Her vision blurred.

"What was lost to Time can never return, but perhaps with Time, we may yet see one lost, return."

Shyloris wiped at her eyes, bewildered as brown eyes searched his for answers.

Perhaps understanding her desperation for guidance of sorts, he wrapped his arms around her, feeling the small form curling against him.

Like a nomad lost in the desert happening upon an oasis, she clung to him, quenching her many lifetimes of loneliness in the company of a stranger whom she had only just met, but felt the familiarity of years.

So long had she been alone, frightened to grieve in the remembrance of the fleeting existences of those she had once known.

Her tearful cries reached his ears and he placed a hand behind her neck and head, pressing her against him.

"Child, those you have lost still live on in memory and Heart, and more literally than you may imagine."

As she sobbed into his chest, he told her then, "I'll be your anchor. For as long as you've existed and will continue to be. We are birds of the same feathered flock, and until time itself has crumbled to dust will we remain."

Her small hands wound around him and squeezed. It seemed too good to be true.

To have met someone. A potential friend who wouldn't be lost to time. 

All succumbed to the wear and tear.

Neiro gave a low chuckle and held her, "To come in the evening, how daring. Fortunate we may be to meet, but misfortune demands that we should sought shelter from the encroaching night."

He glanced around, "Nocturnal creatures abound." as if on cue, a screech sounded and was abruptly cut off, "and their hunting grounds do cover ours."

With a wave he brought up another barrier, just as the one she had toiled to erect so many centuries ago.

Guiding her into the oak hollow, they took rest among her treasured memories, and once more, she felt the gentle touch of another being. Heard the soft throbbing of the Heart's Song, and felt the warmth of another.