He knew it was a dream, the vague disconnect he felt, and how he somehow saw from beyond his dream self.
Yet there was something strangely real about the phantom
"... I'm sorry Silas, I didn't want it to come to this." the voice spoke with a note of finality.
The smile curves up the apparitions lips startles him in how much it reminded him of Neiro.
The whole process is quite frankly rather unceremoniously done. Not tht the Invalid had left much choice.
Anxious and weary, Muspell had no Time for formalities, much like before, disappeared as if a puff of smoke to the wind.
This Time though, Silas felt an odd sensation as if there was another mind materializing within his own, thoughts that weren't his own, sensations that he was, and at the same Time wasn't, feeling.
He struggled to shove the foreign wave of thought away, but it was like holding back a wave, and it simply enveloped him whole.
A sharp pain shot through him and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom.
Groggily pushing himself up, he scanned the room, a sense of unease gathering.
But there was nothing amiss. Neiro lay asleep, curled up in his blankets as always, and the crickets continued their sonata.
"How odd it is, that the hues that colored my every waking moment would appear so strange now. After an eternity of darkness it seems so--foreign."
Silas started and squinted through the gloom, "Where are you." he hissed, a sinking feeling in his chest. It was a possibility he sincerely hoped against.
There was a low chuckle, but none of the malice or mirth that he would've expected, but a warming sound so pure in its merriment,
"Close your eyes!"
With a slow building trepidation did he close his eyes and jerked away, nearly slamming his head into the wall as he stared at the blindfolded apparition.
"I'm right here!"
"Stop that." Silas grit out. It was uncomfortable enough feeling like a stranger in his own body, but to hear the other's thoughts so overpowering loud that it drowned out his own was just annoying. He refused to relinquish control over his own self.
"Ah--my apologies Syras."
Muspell chuckled to himself as his host twitched at the playful tone, clearly irked.
"Don't flip through my memories."
"I'm sorry. But I have to meet Neiro" Muspell was smiling, and odd as it was, Silas could feel it. How one could feel a smile he knew not, only that he would experience the same sensations. Unaccustomed, as he was, he felt his own features twitch before curbing himself and schooling it back into a scowl.
There was an amused and light chuckle much to his chagrin.
The Ophidian retreated slightly. He would give his host some Time to grow a sense of familiarity with their new shared senses. There was still an oppressive and almost suffocating distrust that cornered him, and he didn't wish to upset the brittle bond of trust that had been extended to him.
Did Neiro go through the same befriending this man?
But such were contemplations for another Time. With a suitable host he would feed little by little off of the other's excess storage of ather and replenish himself.
How odd that a human would carry such thick aetherical densities, Muspell tilted his head, hand to his mouth as he sifted through the subconscious of his host, slowly as not to alarm Silas. But he wasn't one to look question one of Life's lucky breaks.
Soon, soon he would see dear Neiro again.
The thought made his heart skip a beat. The Yggdrasill couldn't wait.
Silas felt the presence in his mind fade. While not completely gone, it was noticeable more quiet, as if the other's presence had been muted.
It could be likened to the ability to sense others in a tavern, the low din of chatter, the scents, the warmth, the atmosphere, the liveliness.
The Invalid was admittedly more comfortable now that the private space of his mind had been vacated. Muspell had bid him goodnight taking leave to recuperate.
But before leaving, the Yggdrasill had explained the most basic of essential simplicity in the workings of the so-called Aether.
"Think of Aether as a non-tangible source of life energy. If it would help you to understand, think of it conceptually as sharing your store of fat with another, if you would liken it to a suitable counterpart of the physical form."
"Across the Veil such corporeal stores of energy are considered to be the physical equivalent."
The brunette had nodded stiffly, still uncomfortable with the other's presence.
It was somewhat unsettling. But aside from the possession, there were no further attempts to usurp control. Contrary to his worries Muspell kept within the unspoken boundaries, though Silas was no less weary for it.
Control of their shared body, if anything, shifted inadvertently. As he rose for the morning routine, Muspell startled at the projections from headset, and the way the lights glowed at his presence. He peered, mesmerized by the technology for a good moment before Silas snarled at him to at least move to the bathroom instead of standing and staring strangely about in the hallway.
Now that the Ophidian was no longer on the verge of fading, he would be present more often, giggling and whispering to Silas in his mind.
The apparition's curiosity struck him as strange, how little Muspell knew of such commonplace things as a toaster, or the conductive stove top.
Muspell was clearly not accustomed to such modernizations. And it came to Silas then that perhaps the other was from place less developed.
But that in itself seemed a contradiction. Another oddity as the man was clearly learned. Such showed in conversation, it wasn't something one could fake.
It was almost as if he came from another Time.
But it couldn't be. He knew Neiro and his flatmate couldn't be more than a few years over 20. Come to think of it, they had never discussed such things. It wasn't his nature to pry and Neiro hadn't mentioned it himself.
Their shared synchronization of thought didn't bother him for the most part, and he grew accustomed to abrupt bursts of thought and interruptions as an all-consuming curiosity welled up in the other's mind as he went about fixing breakfast. If anything, Muspell's innocent curiosity was almost passably endearing were it not for their commensal relationship.
What was most strange though, was that Neiro himself didn't seem to notice, an oddity given that he had senses far more acute particularly so where the Astral Pods were concerned. It seemed odd then that his younger flatmate was unable to sense Muspell's presence.
There had been several instances where the Ophidian would in his fervent longing, switch out while speaking Neiro's name, the exertion drawing the apparition back into deep slumber while the Invalid was left with a bemused Neiro.
After another futile attempt and he felt the other return to dwell inside of him, when his consciousness returned, Silas sighed, "Still no?"
It was a pointless question, the nigh tangible disappointment was more than enough, though with it was a despondent contentment in being close to Neiro again, even if the other remained oblivious to his presence.
"Aye. It's to be expected." came the soft reply.
And he felt the other smile fondly as he once again rifled through Silas's mind, seeking the memories that the Invalid assumed were parallel and reminiscent of the Ophidian's own.
Though he spoke of none of the hurt, the other's thoughts were perforated with a bittersweet weight, heavy with forlorn loss and merry Times alike.
Silas peered into Muspell's history, and the other accepted the intrusion. Allowing his host to comb through his memories.
It was personal, very much close at heart, but the intimacy wasn't mutually uncomfortable.
The Ophidian granted him access, though Silas suspected it had more to do with his aloof personality than anything else.
Instead of forcing the other out, he was presented with a memory. The Invalid paused but a moment before decisively reaching out for the small piece of history.
In it he saw a futility he himself was all too familiar with, and silently he let the scene play out.
"Pathetic, is it not?"
"..."
"To keep trying in vain as I do." A chuckle, Muspell had that quiet smile, a little sad, but warm and sweet, and most of all, determined, "But if one does not even attempt, then all is lost is it not? Fate sealed by thine own hand."
"... Is that so?"
Such foolishness was beyond his comprehension.
