Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Dog Day Shorts - Tiny

"Everything about you is tiny." Neiro murmured quietly.

Shyloris buried her face into the crook of his neck, nose bumping and nuzzling against the warm body.

The statement brought a light tint to her cheeks. She certainly felt small compared to the immortal.

Long fingers grazed her back, trailing up to rest on her shoulders.

After meeting him while he sought refuge in the barriers she had erected centuries ago, they had retired to the hollowed oak for the night.

Mismatched eyes roamed the grand space within the ancient tree, lingering over the odd knickknacks that were haphazardly, yet carefully arranged. It painted a chaotic, yet lovingly sentimental scene.

He peered down at the small girl nestled in his arms. It was as he said. Everything about her was small.

From her ears, to her nose, her hands, everything. It was as if the child was an embodiment of the word.

Just then, Shyloris shivered and he shifted his arms to cover her with the long sleeves. There was a sigh and he felt the child relax against him once more.

"Rest well." He whispered, leaning back against the wood.

His eyes wandered back over the trove. Objects collected over eons of lifetimes. Things she treasured in her many lives past, and the only thing she could keep in her lonely existence. Yet even those wouldn't, and couldn't, endure against the wear of time.

Hanging on the wall was a drawing that showed no small feat of artistic talent and skill, yet the colors had faded despite the protective casing surrounding it, and had Shyloris not drawn the miniature drapes back to admire it, still be hidden from the eroding light.

In a way, he sympathized with her plight. 

Neiro was no stranger to loss, and really, when one has lived long and experienced much, it was hard not to be. Life was what it was.

He glanced down at the sleeping form of the child. Living on while watching those she held dear pass away, being the only one left Time and Time again. 

Impermanence was a fact of life, the only thing that remains unchanged, being change itself.

Yet what must it feel like for a mere mortal child? 

Slowly he turned his gaze towards the entrance as a particularly strong gust tousled the heavy drapes that shielded them from the night.

How long had it been since he'd seen one of his own?

His kind sought solitude, preferring the tranquil company of silence to all else in their grueling existence. The immeasurable eternity spent watching horror after horror, conflict after strife after war. It was taxing even on their nonexistent forms. 

How fleeting life was, blinking in an out like a firefly's glow one midsummer eve. Life was utterly delicate, frail, and yet--again he turned his gaze down to the child nestled in his arms.

Yet somehow it persevered.

Sleeping, she seemed at peace, her earlier fright and anxiety absent in place of the soothing void of the aether.

He removed an arm from her shoulder, placing his hand under her chin and tilting her face up.

Neiro leaned down, touching temples. 

In an instant he saw it, a single strand reaching far into the past and growing still with the ever changing present. Unlike that of others though, it was constant. Unchanging.

Timelocked.   

He reached out and curled his fingers around the string, delving into the time itself. He saw Shyloris, studying fervently for a coming evaluation at the Malarkurious Parline Academy, saw him in yet another instance scaling the peaks of an ancient ash tree, reaching for the hand of another as they took turns hoisting one another up, yet another had her on the banks of a river, watching the twinkling glows of passing fireflies.

A sigh left him. No matter how it started they were the same.

In all of them she sought companionship, one that likewise ended in a painful parting. 

The latent desire to belong. 

Neiro grimaced as he became privy to her past, he saw the inevitable outcome as she slowly came to isolate herself, forming few bonds, and fewer attachments. And never far behind, always watching, eyes large and longing. Always afraid.

Each reincarnation would at their own pace, recover her wealth of memories, for better or worse.

He sighed, at last withdrawing and shifting away. 

Was it pity that drew him to anchor the unfortunate child? Or perhaps, and in his mind he saw a pair of brilliant green eyes, solar crosses glowing faintly within their luminescent rings.

Neiro scowled, as he recalled one of their last encounters. He had never agreed to that man's boon, and when he'd voiced this thought, the other only laughed, "Aye, no pact was made. You have sworn neither oath nor liege... " the other had turned away, autumnal hair falling fluidly over his shoulder, "... yet I believe you will, sworn or not."

And he refused to consider the weight in his chest as anything close to yearning.

He was beholden to none. There would be nothing to ensure that he would, at his behest, guide the man's successor. Was it fellowship that blinded that man to believe otherwise?

As he searched the haven for distraction, Neiro spotted a small glass vial atop a table, the sweet scent emanating from it unmistakable.

For a moment he felt a mild shock. It drew from him a low chuckle, and the jostling roused Shyloris.

She peered up at him, eyes fogged with sleep.

Neiro laid a hand on the back of her head and gently urged her back to the clutches of slumber. She did as he bade, though not without a quick glance of the hollow. Satisfied she lowered her head and was promptly asleep once more.

What a surprise. 

The immortal stared at the vial. The nectar of transcience. To even see the Amaranthinæ Lily was an anomaly, and its nectar something sought out since life became sentient to mortality.

With a single drop one would become Timelocked.  

He hadn't noticed it at first as all those, few that they are, who partook of the paradoxical nectar, emitted the same sweet scent.

Shyloris had taken more than just a drop of the nectar. And just as the amplified dosage, deepened other affects, so too was the fragrance.

But seeing the vial and its precious content within, it posed a question then. Neiro had thought the child unable to find anchor and companionship in another due to a lack of a means to perpetuate the fleeting passing of life, yet there it was, sitting innocently on the burl wood desk.

"Why have you yet to convert another?" he mumbled, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"I didn't want to condemn someone-" 

Neiro stared as the mop of brown hair lifted to reveal misty eyes, "-to suffer an eternity." 

Her voice cracked, "With no way out."

And then she was a sobbing mess. He cradled her as she cried, and in the remnant of the mental link he established earlier, felt the wake of grief and memories of those long gone. Ones she reached for, but could never touch again.