Snippets and Stories: (WtI) interference

The Yggdrasill slowly roused. Had it worked? 

He gazed up at the rift he had tore into the Continuum, breath coming in harsh pants. Long silky tresses stuck uncomfortably to his skin with the perspiration, and multiple times he had to wrap the end ribbon to ensure it stayed. 

Rending a tear into the continuum had taken more from him than he was willing to admit and he stood gingerly and with much difficulty. It was fortunate that the fog surrounding the mire wasn't as suffocatingly thick with miasma as it was at high noon.

A thought struck him then of how ridiculous this was, risking his life to artificially tear a hole in the fabric of existence. Even more so was the intention behind such reckless action--a confrontation with a being but whispered in Lore and shrouded in the murky depths of the Aether. No one had recorded an encounter and the validity of a millennial old scrap of parchment was hazardous at best.

Like a mirage the air around it flickered and twisted. As if the surrounding itself had warped and the very presence of existence no longer grounded to reality.

Well, it wasn't too far off the mark he supposed.

There was a rustle of grass and his breath hitched. A small smile crept onto his face.

So they had finally come.

Straightening out, he evened his breath and forced down the remaining vertigo. Likely they'd been here a while already, only now making their presence known. 

And indeed, his visitor had done exactly that, materializing and observing him in concealment, perusing the various timelines as they weighed out and calculated the optimal outcome. 

That they were only now making their presence known meant that whatever it was the Numen was searching for, had been deemed adequate.

He waited but his guest stayed his tongue.

"I had wondered when you'd show up. You've kept me waiting quite a while." 

The Ophidian turned to greet his guest, or at least the marionette. The puppeteer was elsewhere, deeply immersed in the Aether.

Tucking a stray strand behind his ear, he went on, "So long in fact that I had begun to believe the Keepers of Time mere myth."

The tall figure seemed to have been waiting for the acknowledgement and finally spoke.

Their voice wasn't quite as monotone as he had expected, and carried  with it just a hint of melodic lilt that suggested at amusement and boredom, "It is unwise for those of flesh and blood to dabble with the Continuum, lest they find themselves entangled in a spider's web."

Sharp eyes studied him, and narrowed. No doubt the other had noted his arcanum and its seal displayed so blatantly in his eyes, sensed the unusual aetheric density.

Prior to their staged encounter, he had gone over the multitude and settled for transparency as the best approach. Numens were a force to be reckoned with, and crossing one was no trifling matter. He wouldn't play them for a fool.

That and he himself was doing the same, taking in the Numen's silvery hair as it fell in haphazardly around the entity's shoulders. Set in his stern visage were eyes of translucent opals.

Briefly he wondered if all Numens had such distinctive features or if this one was the odd one out. 

It was rather strange, the stories had painted them subtle, bland, as was one hidden in the background, masters of blending in with the crowd. Not strange nor bold--

"Clearly you have not been to the metropolis in quite some Time. This is rather commonplace, if anything it would appear odd not to appear this way."

Muspell blinked, had he voiced his thoughts?

The sheer intensity of their gaze as they beheld him was far more intimidating than he had anticipated. With them they carried the weight, the judgement of eternity.

It was as if Limbo itself lay within those swirls of colour.

When he didn't answer, the Numen crossed his arms, eyes slipping shut as he addressed an earlier statement, "Such words could mirror your own reflection, Yggdrasill. We are as much a myth as you yourself are."

That brought out a delighted chuckle, "Wonderful, you know of our kind. This will make things go much faster."

Almost immediately the Numen interjected, with a biting edge of finality, "Dabbling in mortal affairs is best left to the corporeal."

The air rippled and he turned to stare in amazement at the normality of the space behind him. The rift that he had nearly expired all his aether on all but gone. His keen senses hadn't been able to detect what the Numen had done, only the aftermath.

And with that the temporary vessel of flesh made to leave.

"Pray lend me an ear." he urged, stepping forth.

"Time waits for no one, seedling." but the Numen stopped nonetheless, peering over his shoulder.

The Yggdrasill shook his head, "I do not expend myself to solicit with the desire to flip the hourglass on the fleeting days I've left. Wont you hear me out, Numen?"

With a raised brow, the Keeper turned fully and waited patiently for him to speak, a small gesture indicating that he had his full attention before he settled, arms crossed over his chest.

"There is one who seeks to amuse himself with mischief, but I speak not of the levity of minor pranks. They aim to retrieve the Time capsules."

Opal eyes studied him carefully, and he was taken aback when their owner spoke, "Is that all?"

"There is someone out there who schemes to annihilate your kind." he frowned, "Does that not concern you?"

If anything the Numen seemed to have once again tired of the conversation, voice a bored drawl, as if reciting a spiel, "We are already aware of the fallen Seraph. Guardians of Time we may be, but matters of those bound by flesh and blood are but the matters of mortals." he adverted his gaze, tone dropping off in a low murmur, "What is to come is done, we but see to it that the spun web does not fray, from hypothetical start to end. My kind has already finished paving the future with the past. Even as we speak efforts are made far beyond mortal reach to ensure existential continuation." 

Never had he seen such blatant lack of concern for one's own perseverence. 

Despite the astonishment from the lacking sense of self preservation and the absolute detachment from the will to persist, the Ophidian would yet hope, even vainly, in the Numen's apparent discontent, "You could save yourselves. Your future is not yet set in stone."

"Whether you would believe it to be fixed or not is irrelevant. Impermanence is a natural order of existence. For us the future is as stone. While mortals live multiple existences in the varying spectrum of time and alternate realities, we are but a single entity. If we should perish then it is as it was meant to be." 

The other uncrossed his arms and instead crossed what distance was between them, placing a placating hand on his shoulder, "You need not worry, the future will continue to exist. The last of us will make sure of it."

With a smile he went on, "Your efforts are much appreciated."

He frowned at the other but before he could speak the other continued, "But--That is a matter we are aware of. And do not think to deceive. It is with your own boon that you so desperately sought my kind out." The hand gave a light squeeze, a reminder, and warning.

But he had no need to fear any such backlash, for he had played no such deception.

A grin spread across his face and his eyes slipped shut, "It is with neither intent, Numen. I approach you with motives, it is true, but it is for the same reason as that which I've mentioned already. The one who has plotted your destruction is the selfsame one that would see to my early demise--and that of the seeds that have yet to be sown."

"And what is it then, that you sought us out for."

They locked eyes and the Numen was pleased that the other held it with a determined and steady stare of his own. There was a fire to them, securely kept beneath his composure, but a fire nonetheless, "To sever the seed-" here his company let out an amused "Oh?" but he continued, "-and ensure that my successor does not follow Aversatio, or in the colloquial tongue, what many regard of as the Armageddon."

The other's expression was unreadable, "I will do no such thing."

"You will." the Ophidian grinned.

A smirk spread slowly and the puppet laughed, silver bangs following his shaking form, "What is your name, Yggdrasill?"

"Does it matter to one so unbound by the constraints of Time?"

"Consider it one that would endear me to your cause."

With another smile, he answered, "Muspell. Muspel N. Heime. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The Numen nodded approvingly, "Null-0."