The Briar Patch (BP): Ch. 6 - Into the Hollow

Zeal cursed under his breath, lowering himself onto his belly and crawling into the tunnel. This would be a tight fit.

And he just knew that the dark Shol was laughing at him. Faint whispers carried through the burrow, bouncing off of the curved walls to echo back to him.

The amplified voice reminded him of those acoustic audio-transmitters that children played with, looping a taut wire between two cups.

Was it that much to ask for.

To be a tad more accomodating? He knew it to be perfectly within their means, to have been constantly and effortlessly manipulating Vye's conjured vines as they had the entire trek back.

The severed Shol could've shown a might of hospitality and made the hollow a little wider so he wasn't on his stomache, arms and legs stretched awkwardly on either side. There wasn't even enough room to have his limbs underneath him to crouch properly. And so Zeal crawled on his belly, the agonizing pain from the exertion leaving him winded. In an ironic twist though, it was also what kept him conscious as his fatigued body threatened to collapse.

Damn Shol. He glared at the silhouette skipping merrily ahead.

"Hurry Reaper!" they called in a melodic lilt.

In the warm atmosphere of home, they seemed another person entirely.

At least one of the occupants was enjoying themselves.

"... Just call me Zeal." He grunted, dragging himself along. The movement jostling all the hurts and bringing with it a sharp hiss.

"You know." He shot the Shol a pointed look, "It'd be much easier if these tunnels weren't so narrow."

As if in response, the circumference of tunnel ahead was that much smaller.

From the smug smile his host was sporting, the bloody thing knew exactly what it was doing.

Thankfully it was the last bend, and thoroughly spent, he dragged himself to lean against the living wall.

Where was Vye?

Tired eyes scanned the room until they spotted a small nest of vines, upon which the small Shol was curled up.

The moss bedding seemed to have been freshly woven, and with much care, and the entirety of the hollow seemed to have been very recently cleaned out.

All in all, it didn't have the homely clutter one would expect from an impromptu visit.

With what felt like a slow realization, Zeal pieced together the circumstances that surrounded them.

This Alpione Shol had sensed the two intruders as they entered Whitedew, and having gauging the young Shol's condition in need of intensive care, the Bluepine had remained behind, busy with preparations that only a Shol could perform, in anticipation of their kin.

Meanwhile, they deemed the Crier more than sufficient in whisking away the Shol from their presumed captor. It would be a cinch. The Highlands were the Crier's natural element, and there were few who could contend with such elemental beasts. They were also ambush predators, and creatures of stealth. Surely it would pose little challenge.

But when their Crier had been incapacitated, Lockes had rushed to save their precious familiar and the young Shol from perils unknown. And when they realized with startling clarity that it was a Reaper they would contest with, they were immediately on the offensive.

Squirming coils wriggled into view and Zeal started. The blood loss was taking its toll.

The Seeker eyes seemed to lose focus and he forced them to zero in on the creepers snaking around the hollow.

Most of them, he realized, were leading to Vye.

The myriad of vines were... attached to him. Siphoning him nutrients, likely. This didn't appear to be simple conjuring of a moment's notice. They had been created beforehand.

He stared at the pallid foliage of his ward.

One thing he had learned during their stay together. Shols didn't shiver. They trembled, certainly, but nothing that would generate warmth. The severity of the onset of cold was best seen in their coloration, and in the deep chill, Vye's leaves had turned a sickly pale shade.

He needed to warm him up.

Mentally preparing himself, he forced himself up with a grunt, dragging himself over and collapsing beside the tangle of vines.

Tiredly he reached in and gingerly pried Vye out from the nest, taking care not to dislodge the vines and covering him with the tatters of his cape.

All the while, the other Shol observed the exchange with mild interest, waiting till the Reaper was settled to remark, "Bring the little one over to the fire pit. The flames will do more than your half-frozen corpse. And take off those garments, they'll only keep the chill in."

What flames? It was an empty hearth filled with unnaturally spherical stones. The dark Shol was right about the garments, but neither did he have the strength left to conjure up the flames, and somehow he doubted the Bluepine would have the highly flammable fuel to feed and jump start the fire.

Highland Shols were amongst the few of their kind who were comfortable with the frigid temperatures, what need then would they have of tinder. Circumstances being what they were, it was highly unlikely then that this one would've stocked up.

Besides, whatever pathetic spit of embers the Shol would breath Life into would likely take a while and Vye needed warmth now.

But he did as he was told nonetheless, struggling to shed the torn cloth with clumsy, unfeeling hands.

He stripped down to his undershirt, raising a brow when a grabby vine jerked the damp fabric out of his grip to hang beside the pit.

The Northern Blue knelt over the stones, and to his astonishment, a small fire rose from the mound of ashes. On closer inspection, there was a hollow chute that seemed to tunnel up like some makeshift chimney.

The licking flames rising with a wave of their hand, curling as if eager to follow after the teasing, beckoning gestures, until it had been kindled into a hearty blaze.

Pyromancy?

Shols were not known for having such magicks. What other ability did this Shol have?

But the Bluepine offered no explanation, and instead lauded the acquisition, as if it were a commonality amongst their kind to partake of elemental fire, "Unlike the Lowlands, the Alps do not provide the same hospitality. One must not fall complacent and take for granted that which can only avail them."

Zeal stared at the pine needles coating the Shol, "You're a Bluepine, are you not?" The Conifer subspecies were one of the few groups resilient to wintry climes.

"An astute observation." They smiled, picking up on the implication and taking a moment to relish in the warmth of the inferno that now burned in the pit, "But you're missing some crucial elements."

The bluepine fell silent, eyes slipping shut in the rolling waves of warmth emanating from the fire pit.

The hurt of those lost, torn from them in savagery, rested all too fresh in their mind.

Lonely years spent in seclusion, had done nothing to soothe the heavy ache in their chest. Yet there was little choice but to trudge on, though no matter how far they walked, pushing past adversity, grief was ever close behind. A shadow behind them, a spectre that dogged their every step.

"It seems." They turned to him, "That for all the wisdom and knowledge stored in the grand halls of the Archives that the civilized world is so proud of--boasting to have a veritable wealth of information, enough to be considered a wonder of the world, a trove, a treasury, vast as the sea itself! ... For all of its wonder and mystery, it lacks the most basic understanding of Shols."

A wry chuckle, "... Though there was quite extensive database indeed on the research into the medicinal properties of Shols."

"And do voicing these sentiments placate the grudge you harbor for us 'fleshlings'? Does it make you feel better about the pathetic state of your kind?"

The very boredom and insensitivity by which Zeal addressed the matter would've tickled anyone who cared.

But no one cared.

"There is a lot that you fleshlings would like swept under the rug. I would not have it be so. But no, it does not. I despise what you represent, and the memories you bear."

More importantly, how did they know about the Archives?

It bothered him.

Shols were a reclusive race. Not by any means exclusive, simply that they were incapable of living within the city with their demand for pure water and grottos to rear fairy rings. That and they were not fond of being on their lonesome, thus wandering Shols were scarce.

"Stop projecting your past upon me. I was not the one who took your kin." he held Vye a little tighter then, hands clutching the sleeping Shol towards him. He would not allow the Bluepine to guilt him into bearing the weight of sins he had no hand in.

"Oh but--" their eyes flashed, smile twisting into something much darker, "Your involvement cannot be denied can it? You were a part of it, no different than the ones who tore apart the Circles of poor little Coty and mine self."

To this Zeal could say nothing.

The smooth polished bone of the circlets around his wrist glinted from beneath his sleeve, oddly heated against his skin.

"I thought so. Don't think all of us are as naive to the world as the seedling you travel with. One doesn't simply 'become' a Reaper now, do they?" the bluepine chortled, turning back to the fire and stoking the flames. They prodded at the stones once more until they blazed, filling the hollow with a heavenly warmth.

One that made his every extremity scream in sharp, piercing, pain as countless needles bit deep.

The frostbite.

Now that the heat was warming his body, the blissful numbness the cold provided was wearing off. Defrosting frozen flesh was where the worst of it came from, as nerves reawakened to flesh mangled by the formation of ice.

Perspiration formed on his brow, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a firm scowl. His body felt aflame, excruciating stings piercing his appendages. Everything hurt.

At the very least it meant the nerves were still alive.

"For all this wealth of information... yet lack the most basic information of mine kith and kin. For shame, Reaper." they sighed.

"Are you going to just chastise me for the whole duration of my stay?" Zeal bit out through the pain.

"No, for I will educate you on what your Archives lack. What you will need to know to raise this little one. So listen carefully."

Only when the bluepine was sure that they had the Reaper's full attention did they continue, "You asked me why have a fire pit if my kind tolerates the cold, did you not? Because not all of us are born of the local flora. Our genes have near permanence in their remembrance, and those with the ability to decipher it will find not simply one, but the entirety of the Verdance embedded in our code of Life. Furthermore, though scarce, it is not entirely unheard of for one of these slumbering, and long unseen Shols to arise once more."

The crackling of the fire filled the empty room as their unexpected host seemed to withdraw into themselves. They saw not the licking flames nor hear the pop of the wood, neither did they smell the fragrant wood or feel its blazing warmth. 

And perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but for a moment Zeal thought he saw a glow. Like that of the midsummer firefly.

But surely it must have been an ember adrift from the flames.

"While the environment does have a significant influence on our seedlings and impress upon which of these genes become active, it is not so definite a determinant as your kind seems apt to believe, drawn from the observation of a near perfect correlation between the local flora and those we host. It is simply that those of our kind who find the environment inhospitable, will gravitate to where they are best suited to be. As such, while uncommon, it is not altogether impossible to have a Shol of Lowland flora arise in a Fairy Ring in the Alps. Simply put, we naturally choose the place best suited to our subspecies, thus appearing as if the environment is the only determining factor. Those of us who are here, are best suited for this climate, while those who aren't generally choose to settle elsewhere, thus the appearance of our subspecies deriving from local flora."

The narrative was abruptly cut off.

"... 'ware the little one." The dark Shol hoisted a stone pot above the pit, the vines dropping several of the now heated rocks into it, careful of the splattering as the water erupted in a hiss of steam and bubbles, "Mind the stray splattes, it would not do to have his few remaining greens singed."

They busied themselves throwing various ingredients into the pot. Herbs, greens, roots, berries, and the like, before settling beside the cavity where the fire crackled warmly, "This pit is here to accommodate for those who are sensitive to the harsh climate. We do not leave our brethren behind."

Zeal grimaced, squinting at the Shol before him, who in turn was watching over Vye as he slept. His vision swam.

No better Time to ask. Maybe it would distract him from his torment.

"How do subspecies work?"

The Shol shot him a curious glance, "I would think that you would know that. Unlike the Verdance from which we are all descended, us lesser vessels are but limited to a subspecies by birth. A blessed few may host a variety of fruits and blooms, but all within the genus by which they sprout with."

"... It's not possible then to carry diversity?"

"Not on one Shol, no."

"Is it possible to graft?"

There was a long silence as the Shol turned their gaze upon him, studying him with a cold sort of look. At length, they asked, "Is there perchance, something you wish to tell me?"

Zeal was suddenly very much aware of the vines just by his legs, and another deliberately resting beside his shoulder with a languor that though for all its sluggish waving motions, seemed the most potent of unvoiced intimidation.

It was subtle and well concealed, but a very much real threat. Should the other deem that he did in fact pose a danger.

"I didn't experiment on him if that's what you're thinking."

"... Is that so? Nonetheless, I doubt this is simple curiosity. You don't seem interested in... irrelevancies."

But the vines remained as they were, idly flicking and slithering about. Like a cat's tail.

"Vye--what subspecies is he?"

The Shol gave him an odd look, and instead dismissively posed a question of their own, "Why is it that you address them as Vye?"

Zeal hesitated, glancing down at the small Shol in his lap, "Vye is his name."

"I forget that your kind has a concept of naming individuals."

"Seems rather inefficient and inconvenient besides."

"Mayhaps it be that those of flesh do not find an individual in themselves unique, thus require a label by which to differentiate them." The bluepine hummed to themselves before facing Zeal again and carrying on in a more conversational manner, "Perhaps to fleshlings, such things carry significance, but the concept is lost to us. Odd then that he would have you address him as such." they seemed to ponder it for a moment but ultimately waved it off, "Was it similarly their desire that you refer to them as male?"

Now that came as a bit of a surprise.

"Vye's not male?"

"That's what you're surprised by? Not his desire to take on the singularity of a name?" Zeal gave a shrug and the Bluepine held his hands up in a shrug, "Well. I wouldn't say that." the bluepine Shol held an arm across the chest, the other atop that with his chin resting on his clawed fingers, "I suppose I should give you the full course of 'Shols 101'."

Zeal shrugged as they tutted at him, ignoring the teasing grin as the Shol tossed over their shoulder, "How long have you been traveling with him?"

It wasn't his fault. "Doesn't matter, Vye's been less than helpful. One would think him mum for all the talking he does." Zeal scoffed.

Or doesn't, more like.

"Likely because they don't know any better." they sighed, "As I've said before, Shols need not words to understand. Doubtlessly he's been talking to you this whole Time and wondering why you've paid him no heed."

They padded over to the fire, "Well, settle yourself in and enjoy this raconteur's show. I will of course be narrating." Clearing their throat with a cough, the severed Shol waved his hand, and to Zeal's interest, the smoke and sparkling embers of the fire twirled in the air, a visual story as the Shol gave their lecture.

Zeal snorted, "I thought Shols didn't need words to understand."

"... For your benefit." they pinned on at the end with a wink, "Just for you."

Smoke encircled the Shol, twirling up and following their hand.

Zeal was prudent, and cautious besides. Such frivolities seemed that excessive and self-indulgent.

Still as fire dimmed, he couldn't help but be drawn into the mood. Was this another of their tricks? The air did smell sweet. Perhaps a soothing agent.

Glowing embers seemed to trace their own path through the logs, a rippling reddish glow that brought down the ambient light such that the light cast traced the contour of the Shol's face in sharp contrast.

From the smoky cloud did two shapes form.

A caricature of a man and a woman, body traced by the smoky embers.

"Gender in many fleshlings is a binary system where life arises only by contribution of both a male and female. Only with the crucial component of both genders, is it possible for precious life to take hold."

The smoke formed an upper portrait of the figures as they faced one in a tender embrace, before panning out and showing the round belly of the woman.

Was this really necessary?

"But Shols, by our anatomy, are not partial to gender." The smoke parted, twirling around the Bluepine and screening the sharp cast of the light. The fire glowed a beautiful and warm red, casting sharp contrast of and on the contours of the Shol. The Bluepine closed their eyes, long needles shuffling as they parted to reveal soft tufty clumps of the male cones, "Male anatomy, and yet--"

From another tangle a nub sprouted, growing much larger than the soft tufty ones had been, "... female, just the same. In technical terms, many Shols have a gender, but such is but ephemeral. Whereas one's gender is one's identity to fleshlings, it is but insignificant detail to us. No different than what color or garlands we adorn ourselves with today, the passing weather, or other smalltalk. Shols are all equals in the Verdant's gift."

Smoke enshrouded the bluepine once more, a torrent of ashen snow that gave way to a burgeoning spring of embers, that would once more scatter as the leaves of fall.

"As you may have gathered, Shols do not arise from the traditional means of those of flesh. I am of course referring to sexual reproduction, if that was unclear." They took a moment to relish in the very much unamused look sent their way.

"We lack differential anatomy, aside from the botanicals that adorn us."

A smoky figure twirled, dancing up to him.

Come to think of it, it was odd that the Bluepine wore a shawl rather than the simplicity of their plumy down. Clothes were uncommon for Shols, with the most of their garbs being a decoration of some kind or some accent of nature.

Vye was also unique in that regard, but such had been borne out of necessity. He knew for a fact that the Bræmbel Shol certainly didn't enjoy the restriction of his foliage, taking every opportunity to rid himself of their confinement whereas the Bluepine took to it with an almost devout obsession, rarely removing the article.

"We are not burdened to carry our young to term, rather." The smoky silhouette of the Shol walked towards another ring of smoke that seemed to branch up, while roots spread from beneath, "Coties arise through our Circles, by which we gather our seeds, and whereupon beseech the Verdance that they too may burgeon forth."

The Shol knelt in the circle, joined by others who did the same. Like ripples in water, the rings slowly spread.

"From our Circles, does the Verdance grow, and the Prismatic Arc raised to bear the spectrum that make up our world."

Not more hokey lore. At least this story telling was more involved that Vye's little campfire harangues.

Suddenly the smoke dispersed.

The Shol frowned and waved their hands in fluid gestures, but to no avail. The smoke did little more than twirl in vague amorphous curls.

They sighed, sitting on their haunches, "It seems my reserves are spent. Our little scuffle took more out of me than I thought."

They gestured towards the small Shol, "Anyhow, your little friend is of bramble. Blessed enough to sustain multiple strains by the look of things. As you must know by now, verbal forms of communication in such specificity is not a norm amongst Shols. It's usually perceived as unnecessary, as there is not often much that would dictate such gravity as to necessitate such clarity and direct understanding. As such, speaking in words usually portends something of great significance. Furthermore if one does deem it necessary to address a Shol, we are often identified by our subspecies-striation (type), 2ndary striation (foliage pattern)-stage of growth. As an example Vye's 'name' by Shol terms would be Briarscale Mottlebloom. But stage of growth is not to be mistaken by age, as it's a seasonal change. A Shol's age is... "

But Zeal was lost in his own thoughts. Finally an answer to his question.

Come to think of it, perhaps he was mistaken. Bloodthorn was a type of bramble. 

But the other leaves didn't seem to be.

Well. No one better to ask than a Shol themselves. It was an opportunity he could not afford to squander.

"Then... this is not unusual?" Zeal interjected, carefully parting Vye's foliage to reveal a variety of distinctively unique leaves.

The Northern Blue Shol drew a sharp breath, stepping closer to stare at the foliage.

"So?"

The dark Shol said nothing as they took a step back. "Zeal."

His brow furrowed as he stared back, concern edging into him though his tone remained flat, "... Is he okay?"

"..." The Shol shook their head before spotting the frown on Zeal's face and quickly amending the seemingly negatory response, "It's not--he's fine." 

Shaking their head more vigorously to assuage him, "The coty is fine. Just fine. Malnourished, cold, that's all."

But it didn't feel quite right to Zeal. Still he nodded, for what else was there to do? Pressing the issue would only make matters worse.

The small bundle shifted in his lap and he peered down at Vye.

His young charge yawned wide.

Huh.

"Practically fangs." He muttered aside.

"Pardon?" the Bluepine quirked a brow.

Ah. The Shol had heard. "Considering the typical diet, these teeth are rather predatory."

"On the contrary, sharp teeth do more than tear flesh apart." the bluepine shrugged. Though they were rather sharp. "I suppose if one were to rationalize it, it would come down to functionality. The Lowlands are abound with an abundance of fruit and hard nuts and the like. It's easier to grasp and consume when you've the teeth to sink into them with."

"Maybe they were ground down from shattering the carapaces of sea hazel." Zeal snorted, recalling the Shol's penchant for the roasted treats when he'd brought a bag of them back.

"Sea hazel?" The small Shol pushed himself up, blinking up at him blearily, "Can I have one?"

"How long have you been awake?" Zeal grunted, small, sleepy hands feeling over his front and searching for a hidden pouch of the roasted sea hazel he was so fond of, "Sorry, I don't have any."

Vye groaned his disappointment and flopped back. The young Shol curled up in Zeal's lap and was already asleep again before Zeal could ask him how he felt.

"Give him to me. I'm impressed you've not passed out yet."

Not that Zeal had much say on the matter, his body screamed at him and his eyes were growing heavier by the minute. Vye had woken up, albeit briefly, but it was enough. His return to consciousness meant he would be okay.

The vines took the small bundled up Shol from him and the world faded to black.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Chocolate Kisses

"Catch you all later!" Neiro waved before ducking out of the door and disappearing into the hall.

"Don't tarry." Silas barely glanced up from his screen. This particular case was a study venturing into generating Time anomalies.

He entwined his hands, eyes darting across the text of the screen.

The Briar Patch (BP): Ch. 5 - Whitedew

A northern bluepine by the looks of it. The dainty smile seemed grossly incongruous with their current dilemma, and Zeal was inexplicably wary. That tone practically bled ulterior motives.

"Indeed I am. As is your companion." they turned to Vye, but oddly enough the latter flinched, and if anything, seemed to find the acknowledgement upsetting, "Though it seems you're still a mere Coty."

What?

Vye was trembling.

Zeal would've thought his young charge would be ecstatic to see another Shol. This moment could be the objective of their search. So what of with this oppressive tension lingering in the air like a suffocating fog?

"Lost your seed leaves yet, pup?" despite being all smiles, there was a distinctive note of something akin to disdain or disapproval as they towered over Vye.

Vye shifted, averting his gaze and huddling low.

An intimidation of sorts? The Seeker knew little and less of Shol behavior and how they intermingled amongst their own, but from Vye's stories though he hadn't imagined it to be so cold.

Zeal pushed Vye behind him, sidling between the two. That bitter tone didn't seem friendly in the least. Something was very off.

But the moment his hand touched Vye, the Shol's expression darkened.

"How cute." The newcomer's eyes glinted and suddenly the breath was knocked out of him. Sharp pain shot through his back as he was slammed into a tree, the wood flowing fluidly over his hands, an odd sight for how very much solid they felt around his appendages.

But his attention was elsewhere.

Poised languidly just above his heart was an extended branch that had transmogrified into a pike. It weaved back and forth slowly, in a distastefully pendulous motion that Zeal found heavily reminiscent of a serpent.

Ready to impale him at a moment's notice.

This wasn't mere jest, it had been intended as a finishing shot.

Would've, if not for Vye. 

Even then the small Shol was wrestling with the Bluepine for control. But whereas the young Shol was winded just stopping the spear, the other stood effortlessly, peering over their shoulder in an almost bored manner at Vye's interception.

True conjury. Vye's little organic manipulation was child's play to this.

This wasn't even a match.

Zeal grit his teeth, pulling against the wood, but this went beyond even the most adept of botanical conjury.

Whatever the Shol did, the tree wouldn't burn either. His hands were bound, and the organic bindings there to stay.

Sharp, slitted eyes flickered back to his, and he held the slitted stare. 

The Shol studied him for a moment, and deeming his efforts futile, smirked.

Curiosity was likely the only thing keeping him alive, for if they so desired, the Bluepine could overpower Vye's heckling with neither thought nor effort. But they didn't. Instead they turned to Zeal, "So you survived, and I give you my congratulations. Quite a sturdy thing you are, I hadn't thought you'd fare half as well against my beloved pet." They sighed, "Poor thing, you did quite a number on them."

"You can manipulate a Crier?" Vye grit out, still straining with all he could to pull the makeshift spear away.

The other Shol glanced up and smiled gently at Vye, "If your guardian were as weak as your powers of deduction, you'd be as good as dead."

Vye's colored but he forced himself to his feet, "Y-you're severed."

"How very observant of you." the Bluepine Shol replied cooly and clapped for him.

Zeal stared. That was a dark Shol? Truthfully, whatever difference Vye honed in on, eluded him altogether. There was little he could discern that differentiated the Bluepine from any other Shol.

They didn't appear any different say, for the typical identifications of their flora. From the way Vye talked about them he'd have thought it an obvious trait.

"W-why would you attack us?"

"Attack? Oh no, I prefer assessment. An Assessment to see the extents of your, shall we say, companion's ability. Well, and to give him a little something to take all that excess energy out on for good measure... Though, that reaper bit was a pleasant surprise." the Bluepine scrutinized Zeal, and to his annoyance, the cold vines slithered under his garments, searching him for other concealed weapons. They carried on as if in casual conversation, "Fleshlings are much more receptive, and easier to... discuss with, when they've had something to wear out that feisty nature of their's. A bit of gentle persuasion, really."

Gentle persuasion. Zeal snorted, "What do you want with us?"

"Lots of questions, these ones." They sighed, but didn't deem to answer Zeal's, "Now, if you don't mind, it's Time to finish the job. It's unbecoming to dawdle and poor etiquette to play with one's food." The Shol tutted at Vye. "Oh, but before that, there is one thing I'd like to know.

And suddenly the Highland Shol was at his neck, wooden spear still and coiled, poised to strike. 

The melodic lilt in their voice was dangerously smooth, "What is a reaper like you doing with a juvenile Shol?"

Zeal grimaced.

"Leave him alone!" Vye stumbled to his feet, pulling at the dark Shol.

Bemused, the severed Shol turned to Vye, "You turn my spear away, and now you would vouch for him? Whatever stories he's fed you, it's best to see them for what they are and nothing more."

They turned back to Zeal, "Reaper, you want to know what really turns a Shol? Contrary to popular belief, it isn't simply just the consumption of blood that one becomes severed from the Verdance. It is not so simple, aye?"

He didn't like where this was going, but he forced himself to bite back a blatant "no". Vye was stalling, buying Time. They both knew that even without being weakened by their travels, Vye was no match should the Bluepine decide to end things then and there.

This was never a match to begin with.

This Shol was on a completely different level than anything either of them knew.

"It isn't simply the lifeforce of those parasites who sup upon the Verdance and thrive by his good grace."

"Parasites." Zeal echoed back humorously. The remark went ignored.

But the pain that pierced deep into his side moments later where he'd taken the frostbite told volumes, and had definitely been dealt with more than just a little vengeance. What little warmth remained in his body seeped out of the fresh wound where it froze nigh immediately, but not before staining his garments a dark red. A blessing, truly, for had it not been for the frigid climate he'd have bled out.

"Get away from him!" Vye was screaming, pulling at the severed Shol, but the other, without turning around to face Vye, backhanded him with their free hand and sent the younger Shol stumbling back.

The bluepine Shol lapped at the dark red blood on their other hand.

"The first is hatred." the word was spat out of a grinning mouth of fangs that dripped red. Luminescent eyes glinted mirthfully at him and he felt the cold spread deep inside him, "The consumption of the life essences."

"No! No, no, no, no, no--" Vye scrabbled to get up. Shols were highly attuned to the aethor, and he could feel it draining faster than the blood has blossomed, "Don't hurt him!"

"Get away, little Coty, or do you want to wind up like the Fairy Ring yonder?" was the drawled and almost bored response.

Zeal snapped to at the mention, "Those tunnels in the cliffs..."

Vye had been right, there was a fairy ring.

Rather irrelevant, circumstances being what they were, but how had he known? Vye had never been here.

"Good instincts, Reaper. I'll wager they served you well in the Harvest didn't it?" Those eyes never left him, as the Shol smiled, "Listen well Coty, Reapers like him bring with them Death. You would do well to remember that."

"So does forsaking the Verdance!"

"Little pest." The last part was bit out, all humor gone as they whirled around, "What do you know of what transpired? Of the death and decay that has seeped through this land? I embraced Death to pluck those from it, to keep them safe!" They snarled, teeth bared and needles bristling, "You don't know forsaken! I didn't defect to spite the Verdance, I accepted the taint to protect it! I was willing to give up everything--everything there was, to save everything I knew! And in the end--in the end it did nothing!"

The entire grove shook, leaves rustling with their fury.

"You, a little seedling who can barely animate." The Shol towered over him, hissing, "You know nothing. You've been misled, open your eyes before they are plucked from their sockets!"

As if to emphasize the point, the same vines Vye conjured up sprung to life, limber and dexterous as any of true flesh.

He wrestled for a few futile seconds before it overwhelmed him, confining him to a small netted dome.

Vye struggled until he lay limp, leaning upon the selfsame vines that he himself had conjured up, and which now trapped him.

The Bluepine waited until he was certain the other had worn himself out. The webbed vines were gone, braiding themselves into a thick coil. 

Zeal winced as it swung back, and before Vye could get a word in, snapped like the crack of a whip and struck Vye across the midsection with a jarring impact that knocked him clear off the ground.

This Time he wasn't just sent sprawling.

He fell heavily, body aching.

"Mayhaps that'll finally knock some sense into you." A shadow darkened over him.

Vye yelped as the vines hoisted him up to dangle in the air.

The Shol stepped closer, close enough to hiss out for him alone to hear, "I know what it is you seek. And you will not find it."

With a harsh shove, they carried on, "There's nothing left of the Circles. Not in the Lowlands, the Highlands, or elsewhere. And certainly not here." the last part was bit out vehemently and the vines holding him disappeared, dropping him unceremoniously into the snow, "Give it up and go to whatever is left of 'home'. Pick up the pieces and do your best to establish a Fairy Ring far, far away from this mess. And maybe one day--Sol will smile upon us, and the Verdance shall return once more."

Vye tried to climb to his feet but was pushed back into the snow, his head held down by the other Shol. "Begone. And do not try my patience again or you wont find me so lenient."

A last forceful shove smacked Vye deeper into the frigid ground, and dazed eyes blinked up at the Bluepine, widening, "No!"

The icy blue Shol raised a brow, and was suddenly aware of a presence behind them both.

"How?" They whirled around, eyes large. The tree Zeal had been bound to was sliced clean through.

The scythe sung through the air--and stopped just short of their neck.

Vye had lunged between them, pushing the other Shol behind him and covering them with his body.

"Figures this is what I get for taking my eyes off of a Reaper." The northern bluepine stared distastefully at the wicked blade curving around them both, "... I should've torn your Heart out and rammed that stake through you."

The mercenary met the scathing glare with his own, ignoring them in favor of addressing his charge, "Step aside Vye."

"No." Vye stayed where he was, arms encircling the other Shol.

This disobedience was quickly wearing.

"Vye. Move."

"Let go me Coty." the Shol growled, doing what Zeal couldn't and pulling Vye off. A rough hand pushed him away and Vye stumbled, catching himself. In the same instance, a sharp spear of wood burst from the ground forcing Zeal back.

His eyes darted between the two as the dark Shol climbed to their feet. Zeal stood his ground, scythe poised and ready, but they both knew his injuries were deep, his body stiff and movements awkward with the cold, never mind the encumbering snow itself.

The Shol trudged towards the Reaper, clicking their tongue, "Go to your room Coty. It's Time for the adults to 'talk'."

"Stop fighting! Zeal, why wont you put your scythe away!" Vye tried to pull the bluepine back.

"Do you even have to ask?" Zeal shot back irritably, eyes trained on the severed Shol before him.

"We're not fighting, we're talking. Violence is the language of the reapers." the Bluepine shook him off again, "You should know that by now, pup."

If this was supposed to stop them it was a rather pathetic attempt. A child true.

"Zeal!"

"For your safety and mine, no." he returned easily.

"Stop it!"

The bluepine growled, their hollow eyes glinted with mirth as their mouth twisted in a malicious sneer, "Do you know why you're alive?"

That stopped the smaller Shol.

"For the same reason your brethren are all dead."

"Stop it." Vye was tearing up.

"Because, and what was it you said? Oh yes, 'because of idiots who only after the fact, realized that without the flowers, there can't be any nectar! Isn't that right Reaper!" they threw their head back in humorless laughter as they parroted Vye's words back at him, "Stupid seedling. Can't you tell he's playing you for a fool? He's using you as both compass and bait to sniff and lure out what few of us remain. And it worked."

A bitter chuckle as those dark pools cast their chilling gaze back to the bound Reaper.

But Zeal was looking elsewhere. 

Because for a moment, Vye had met his gaze. Had been staring with a look that told of the conflict waging inside of him. One that was searching for answers, though to what exactly he could only guess. 

Confusion, doubt, betrayal, and hurt were writ across the Bræmbel Shol's face. But what stood out the most was the haunting look of utter fear.

And he found that underneath all the conflict was one emotion, pure and true. The same Love he had held for him from the tentative beginning of their travels, and which had only grown stronger and burgeoned through the trials of their journey.

Vye seemed to be searching him for an answer, an affirmation, though he knew not for what. Nor could he say exactly what look he himself had.

Zeal pleaded silently, praying that Vye would trust him. To not be swayed by the Bluepine's words.

In the midst of this mess he couldn't reassure nor assuage Vye's fears. But after, he promised to himself he would.

Perhaps Vye's naivety was infectious, for only fools made such a flimsy bond as that of a promise. How easily they, amd people themselves, were broken. 

It was utter foolishness, and had he not been the one bound but an outsider instead, he'd have deemed Vye exactly as the Bluepine had. A stupid fool of a Shol for trusting him, especially given their troubled history.

But he had been.

Still he found himself a little disappointed, for he refused to admit it to be guilt, with how much Vye wanted to believe in him.

But all of it lasted but for a moment, and he knew not if Vye found what it was he was searching for.

The forest seemed to swirl around them, the leaves rustling as the trees arced high, stretching and contorting, gnarled and grotesque as the shadows danced around them, demons that skittered just out of sight in the twisted shadows.

Zeal grimaced and ran, spiked wood spearing a trail behind him. He was tired of fighting on someone else's turf.

This had to end now. His wounds needed treating, and he was at the end of his rope, for both patience and stamina.

Slicing through wave after wave of spears and sending sparks flying off his scythe, he turned sharply, pathing towards the two and diving at the dark Shol.

Only for a viscous amber bubble to materialize around them.

Pine sap.

Unexpected, but it wouldn't help.

The scythe carved into the thick bubble.

And stuck.

With a flick of his wrist, the amber shifted.

And his numb hands lost their grip.

The Bluepine jerked the scythe out from his grasp, and drew it deeper into the sticky sap, lodging it firmly in to stay, "Not today, Reaper."

But Zeal returned the wry grin.

And flames engulfed the resinous coating.

The arcing flames lapped at the Shol and they shrank away from the fire, lurching back and dissolving the amber that now entrapped them. Though not quickly enough, for the viscous fluid wavered as they lost control, and it splashed over them, burning plumes and searing deep into the skin.

They shrieked, scrambling away from the fire.

The dark Shol lay there, leaves burnt and glaring up at him, over expended and vulnerable.

Zeal snatched the scythe up and swung it.

Only for Vye to get in his way again.

"Vye, you're not helping anything. So on the one point that the two of us can agree on, get out of here." he glared. These interference were more than irritating at this point.

Vye held his ground, "No, you'll hurt them."

"It's either hurt him or he hurts me."

Again. Zeal added in bitterly.

But Vye shook his head, "Promise me you wont harvest them."

Zeal grimaced, still holding the scythe threateningly above the bluepine.

"Zeal!"

He snarled. Bloody. Fine. "Fine. Happy? Now move aside."

"Then trust me. Put it away."

There was a tense moment as he stared at the Shols crouching in the snow.

"Zeal, please." Vye begged, glancing between the two. Yet despite the fire in those luminescent eyes, the Arctic Shol had no fight left.

Vye forced himself in front of their severed kin, blocking them from view and giving him an expectant look, "Zeal?"

Uncertain but hopeful.

It was a conflicting moment as he stared at his young charge.

Words meant nothing. It was all too easy to fall in this world.

But ultimately, he sighed, reluctantly returning the circlets to his wrist and crossing his arms expectantly.

This was coming back to bite him. No question about it.

Fool is the one who gives to an early mercy, for it brewed naught of gratitude, but stubborn defiance. No, it is far better to crush the opposition and ensure that they felt utter and true defeat. Let them fear you if need be. 

But he resigned himself to facing that dilemma whenever it would come.

Vye truly expected too much of him. Like a child he was far too hopeful and naive, and cried when adults fought.

In Time he'd learn ethics were nothing more than prettied words. A hindrance, and a greater source of bigotry and conflict. Still, he loathed the disappointment, betrayal, hurt, and fear that stained them so deeply, that though never voiced, had been clearer than any words would ever be when he had summoned his scythe.

Was this what Shols meant by 'communicating through other means'?

Still, if Vye hoped that Zeal would somehow redeem himself in this sordid mess, he would be sorely mistaken.

... Admittedly though, Vye had saved him. Had it not been for the calculated question his charge poised, nor the cunning provocations to distract the Dark Shol, that spear would likely have long since found its mark.

Through his internal monologue, Vye had sagged to his knees and hugged the other Shol, patting the burnt needles and huffing with an odd clicking noise.

Warmth seemed to emanate from his hands, and he preened and patted the other, the burns healing and color returning to their icy blue needles.

Great. Vye better be right or he would strangle the Shol himself. The both of them.

Zeal stiffened, "Vye--"

The young Shol fell limp, shuddering and slumping into the snow.

"About Time." The Bluepine Shol stood up, patting themselves off, "Much better."

Bloody. Hell.

The scythe was already in his hands.

He was going to murder him. He was going to murder this bloody Shol twice over. Then his foolish charge himself.

"Oh put that away, didn't you hear your little companion." the dark Shol snapped irritably, "I've not enough left to do anything more anyhow."

"What did you do to him."

"Don't worry your pretty little head off. He's overextended himself and fell asleep is all. Though thanks to your inept guidance, he's exhausted and malnourished. I wouldn't be surprised if without treatment, he lapses into eternal sleep."

The twitch in his eye was back, "I wasn't the one who sent a league-long monstrosity that almost killed us both."

"It takes more than just a moon of snow to atrophy as much as they already have, Reaper." they snapped back, "Besides. It wouldn't have touched you or the Coty had it not been for your interference. The Crier I sent to retrieve the seedling. Of course, I hadn't anticipated on your meddlesome involvement. Thanks to you it ended in a brawl and now my poor serpent needs mending."

That would explain why the Crier seemed to zero in on Vye.

"... Although." The Shol paused, eyes narrowing at him, "Few can sense a Crier. It's commendable that you were able to discern one."

The Shol stared at him and Zeal stared back.

If they were waiting for an explanation, Zeal wasn't about to give one.

They sighed and muttered aside to themselves, "Why does everything end in violence when it comes to fleshlings?"

It wasn't that they were trying to hide it, they simply weren't speaking directly to Zeal just then. 

"Coming from the one who was hostile first." Zeal snorted.

"Oh spare me. You attacked my Crier, what was to say you wouldn't do the same to me? And--" they snapped, "--you are a reaper. With a Shol. You can't fault me for assuming the worst. And I''m still not convinced you are anything but a threat."

Thrown in that light, circumstances did admittedly look rather sinister.

"For the last Time, put it away you dolt. Or do you make a habit of making false promises." they gestured towards the scythe still in his hands.

"I've little reason to trust you."

"Trust me and follow, or your little Shol will soon fall dormant, never to wake again. Where will your 'liquid gold' come from then, I wonder?" The highland Shol pointedly jabbed a hand towards Vye, "Somehow I doubt you're equipped with the facilities to nurture them, and weak as they are they are it's all but certain that under your oh so attentive care, they'll not rouse again."

"What exactly do you want with him." Zeal let the scythe flow back onto his wrists, "He's not of your circle."

"Nothing worse than what you've got planned, Reaper." They snapped back. The Shol shot him an exasperated look, "You know nothing of Shols, do you?"

It wasn't a question really and they swiveled on their feet before he could answer, throwing a flippant, "Follow me." over their shoulder and beckoning lazily.

There wasn'tmuch of a say in the matter.

It was true, he couldn't help Vye, he hadn't the means to. And the both of them had known that his reserves had been running low.

He moved to pick up Vye and was promptly smacked by a vine.

A vine? His eyes darted to the highland Shol languidly walking away. Wasn't the Arctic Shol too weak to use their powers? By the way they were conjuring, they seemed unfazed by the scuffle.

Zeal grimaced and eyed the twisting creeper warily.

Did it just hiss at him?

He could've sworn it was hissing at him before smacking at the offending appendage when he tried to sneak a hand around it to reach for Vye again.

"Don't bother, save your strength for the climb. Should you fall in the snow, you'll be there to stay. I wont be carrying you." the Shol called, vines cradling Vye and carrying him alongside the other Shol.

As they went, they passed into the old growth trees, and despite the aches and pain in his body, he trudged on. There wasn't much of a choice.

The trek seemed endless, and Zeal's already worn self was more than numb by the Time the Bluepine Shol stopped at the base of the cliffs.

"Here we are. Home sweet home." the bluepine chuckled. A fond, yet bitter sound that didn't sit well with Zeal. But as he took in their surroundings, a deep confusion settled over him. This was just a clearing.

"Look closer, Reaper." they turned slightly, smiling a sweet, gentle smile that didn't reach those glassy eyes.

The trees were surrounding them.

In a ring.

"But the cliffs--"

With a merry laugh, the first he ever heard from the Highland Shol that was so genuinely jovial, they spun in a circle, twirling in the snow.

The trees creaked  and a cascade of branches extended down, the gnarled knots like steps. At the top of the makeshift stairway, was a hollow that gaped open, glowing with a warm amber light of some form of luminescent moss.

"Never did I thought a day would come when I welcomed a Reaper into our Ring."

"... 'our'?" Were there others?

But the Shol dipped his head, eyes slipping shut, "... mine."

Oh.

Zeal averted his gaze.

"Come now. Frankly I'm impressed you haven't collapsed." they laughed, beckoning to him.

The steps were surprisingly difficult, uneven and slippery with the snow and--now he knew the bloody Shol was messing with him.

"You're doing this on purpose." he glared at the narrow hollow just large enough for the Shol.

The Shol just grinned, the vines gently nudging Vye onto the dark Shol's back, "I hope you're not claustrophobic."

And then the Shol disappeared with Vye into the hollow.

The Briar Patch (BP): Ch. 4 - The Crier

This was bad.

Nothing seemed out of place, yet there was a quiet voice screaming in the back of his mind.

White. White everywhere around him. An undisturbed and tranquil Winter. Unlike the urgent inflection in the familiar and insistent voice in the back of his mind.

Oh wait. That voice was real. 

Snippets and Stories: (BP) A Joke

This happened relatively early in their journey.

Shortly after he realized what Vye was, Zeal had with all due haste, smuggled the Shol out of the sanctuary and past the wandering eyes of hunters and unsavory civilians alike.

At first the other was understandably cautious, yet nonetheless far too naive, placing far more trust in a completer and utter stranger than any of sound mind should. Tentative though it may be, and in what many would find an endearing manner.

Such was as Zeal noted on their very first night, having escaped the boundaries of the sanctuary and delving deep into the wilderness beyond.

Far enough out, he let the young Shol out of his knapsack, to continue on foot. The terrain was difficult to navigate.

And when his newly acquainted companion fatigued, Zeal forced him back into the knapsack that they may continue.

Zeal dared not break for rest, lest they be discovered.

Deep into the woods they went, afoot and on nonexistent paths long past the apex of the moon's journey, and even after the sentinel of the night had long since slipped beyond the horizon, retiring before them.

It was only by the next dusk when her pallor again greeted them, that Zeal finally permitted them to rest.

Such feats of endurance were not uncommon for the mercenary, but for the Shol it had been a trying first day, holed up in a cramped and stuffy bag, jostled and bumped.

So when they settled in for the night and Zeal assumed first watch that his charge may rest, it wasn't truly expected. Sleep was oftentimes when one was most vulnerable and helpless besides. And there was little reason to trust him.

So when the Shol bid him rest, and soon fell asleep, he was astounded.

They swapped off at the highest point of the moon's ascent, but Zeal himself held no such sense of trust, and but lay still. His breathing he slowed, and made shallow, feigning sleep. Not that the Shol noticed.

Too naive, he didn't even consider that there may be any ulterior motive.

Zeal allowed himself a light sleep, for no sleep made for poor judgement, and lacking attentiveness. Something his charge could not afford.

And had awoken that morning to find himself adorned with a garland of daisies, the sigil of friendship and faith.

Another Time, as he was making his rounds scouting out the area around camp, Zeal had opened his bag to find a braided twine of rosemary and white heather. While not well known, such plants afforded their keeper a small measure of protection, ward off malice and misfortune.

But he himself held his reservations, needless attachments were nothing but a burden. As Vye himself would discover, he was sure.

And so he remained aloof, cautious of the small curiosity that had so taken to him.

And then one evening as they sat around the campfire with Vye's incessant chatter rattling on his ears as was the norm, the Shol suddenly stopped. Zeal was ignoring him again.

He studied him carefully and then burst out laughing.

He thought his companion mad until the Shol stared him dead in the eye, lips quirked in a small smile, "You're a joke."

His first thought was nothing as what Vye said sunk in. But mostly for him to differentiate it as anything different than the usual droning chatter.

A joke.

His second, to backhand him for his stupidity.

Zeal didn't, although he did raise a brow at that. He would humor him, and because his curiosity was sufficiently piqued, "A joke."

Considering how much the Shol depended upon him, he was a fool to insult the only one keeping him from the reapers.

Had it been anyone else he would've been collared and thrown in ice. Vye would need to learn to watch his tongue if he wanted to survive. Mouthing off to the wrong person would mean death.

The Shol nodded, "Cowards hate, and bite. Pitiful things, for they can only pretend to have strength. They flaunt themselves with apathy, hatred, aggression, because they can do no better. All to protect themselves, because the truth is that they're weaker and more afraid than anyone else of being hurt. That's why they're always trying to prove that they're better and stronger. It's much harder to love, than it is to hate. "

Where was this coming from. Zeal grimaced.

"It isn't falling that makes you weak, it's never taking the leap. The strong just climb back up." Vye sang at him, "You're weak. G' night Zeal."

Speechless and in shock, he watched Vye clamber into the fine downy fibers of the bol he'd conjured.

Zeal stayed up late into the night on first watch, staring at the warm glow of the embers.

He was a joke.

He snorted. What utter nonsense.

The Shol was talking bloody nonsense.

He wasn't afraid of warmth, it simply wasn't on his mind. There were other things that took precedence, and there just wasn't the Time to devote himself to the consideration of something as time-staking and fanciful as Family.

But as the night wore on, his thoughts couldn't help but turn to the small gestures, and the small hand that was constantly reaching for his.

This must be what it was like to raise a Family. To have a child of his own.

And, he mused, it wasn't so bad.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Mistletoe

Esti wasn't sure what it was that drew her to him.

He was not kind by any measure, nor was he attractive, be it on the superficial level or beneath.

But lately it rose in the most inconvenient of moments.

Ever a candid speaker it had simply made for rather awkward encounters.

Silas raised a brow when he answered the door to find the redhead once more at his doorstep. She had been frequenting as of late. Not that she hadn't before, but from the slight tint of color on her cheeks and aversive eyes, Esti was all but sure that it told all what she kept mum, and made the visits all the more painfully conspicuous.

"... He's in his room." Silas gave a small nod of his head to indicate the all too familiar path.

She nodded, mumbling a quick thanks, and ducked around the tall man, darting straight for Neiro's room.

The Invalid watched her go. The two spent much Time together as of late. Still, he wouldn't begrudge Neiro the company of someone likely more relatable and uplifting than his own dour self.

Someone of the same age and the epithet of one full of youth and vigor. One who could do all the things he could not. And they shared similar interest besides. Be it a simple matter of crossing fields of interest, or something of a more emotional matter, it was only natural that the two were so drawn to one another.

Well. He wouldn't deny Neiro.

He pulled out his chair and settled in his corner, sipping away at a warm mug, the rapid fluctuation of his keys filling the quiet once more.

At the sound of the door, the albino whirled around with a grin, "Esti!"

A tight hug and he pulled away, holding her at arm's length, "How'd it go?"

It was too quiet and hasty for him to catch, and he blinked, "Come again?"

"I didn't ask." She muttered, shrugging helplessly and clearly uncomfortable. "This isn't really my thing."

It was odd to see her so shy. Rarely did she skirt around things and yet. And yet.

"Well, we can fallback to our original plan. The winter party will be next week. Maybe then?"

A nod. It was worth a shot.

It was been a perfect set up. Silas, as Neiro predicted, left the lively, but somewhat stifling main room to catch a breath of fresh air.

Frosty and nippy, but refreshing. It breathed new life into the man or so he claimed.

As he stood outside alone, breath coming in white puffs, she hesitated.

He seemed content to simply be.

And--she didn't want to ruin that.

Things were fine as they were now, right?

But a nudge from behind, and Neiro shot her a conspiring, yet encouraging smile she couldn't help but grin at. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and ignored the melodramatic puppy eyes of disappointment when she didn't.

Esti waves him off with a shake of her head, though unable to truly wipe the smile from her face.

Well. Being frank was just what she did best.

Except for perhaps being Esti.

She snorted at the cheesy joke, shaking her head again and stepping out.

Silas remained staring at the mesmerizing radiance of the starry sky, but he turned his head at her entrance. Not enough to face her, nor pull away from the expansive night before him.

He's sharp, as always. Though his body language went unchecked.

Good. It meant he was comfortable, not his usual unreadable mask and aloofness.

"How have the field assignments been?"

"Courtesy call, or interest?" She calls back before she could stop herself.

A low chuckle, "Courtesy."

Figures. She smiles, taking a place leaning on the rails beside him, staring at the snowcapped forest below them.

It wouldn't be Silas otherwise.

"... And interest."

Oh.

She tilts her head to peek up at him, cheeks warming when their eyes meet.

"I... I'm enjoying it. It's been amazing fun seeing all these sights and the tech we use." She turned away.

An understatement really. It was fascinating. Absolutely amazing to experience and witness firsthand. The awe of what their intricate technology could do--the scientific advancements--and the Earth so much more vast.

To be able to explore the far reaches of their world and beyond, and to simply not just be there, but be a part of it all.

She owed this man a debt she had no means of repaying.

Whereas he had given her the world, there was nothing he himself wanted that she could give.

"That's good. I worried that perhaps the work wouldn't be to your liking." A pause, "The tasks assigned are suitable and not a merry chase?" He gives a wry smile before falling back into the serene lull of watching the sky.

It was perhaps the most peaceful she had ever seen the gaunt man. Other than that one Time he had fallen asleep on the chaise on the veranda where they were now.

He turns to peer down at her in that moment and she realizes she had been staring too long, lost as she was in her thoughts.

"It's been nothing I couldn't manage. Although sometimes I wonder if one of these days it'll be more than I can handle."

"... I'm sure you'll make it work somehow. You're resourceful. Would that I could say the same of the fools you deem your colleagues. It's about Time they learned to see past pettiness and utilize the best in each individual. Too often we judge one by our own standards." He scowled, "... and in so doing, become our greatest adversary. There is nothing more frail than a lacking diversity."

That's right. They each had their own role to play. All of them.

"I... Thank you. For giving me a place here." She lowered her head to him.

"I didn't give you anything you didn't deserve. You earned it, and had you not, you would not be standing here now."

He studied her carefully, was it the cold that painted her with such a deep rosy blush? Her hand wound tight on her other arm. Esti had proven herself more than resilient. A little nip from Winter never bothered her before.

... Or perhaps Lokius had indeed spiked the punch bowl.

Knowing the eccentric scientist, it was probably the latter.

That man was a menace.

Still, he removed the long shawl from his neck, wrapping it around her.

The trembling of her hand as she reached up to touch the soft warmth of the fabric only reaffirming his belief that it be the cold that bothered her.

If she had intended to tell him before, she couldn't now. Not with him, dubiously stated, the happiest she had seen him.

Not after he had taken her under his wing in his own apathetic way. She couldn't trouble him so.

Silas was happy as is.

It took her a moment to realize he was saying something and she snapped to at the expectant silence.

"A-ah, sorry, I didn't catch that." She winced. Silas loathed wasted words. Particularly those of import that beared repeating.

A quirked brow, but he obliged, "It's not every day that we celebrate Christmas. Come, enjoy it while we can."

He extended a hand to her, and stricken by an inexplicable shyness, found herself without her voice. Gently her fingers brushed his palm before resting in the outstretched hand.

The hesitation was unlike the passionate and headstrong girl he knew, but if Silas was curious, he didn't ask.

Curiosity or not, it wasn't his business to pry. Moreover he had little doubt that Esti would not appreciate the gesture, good intentions or not. She was a very much independent individual, and didn't appreciate others prying.

He led her carefully around the ice coated planks, towards the warm glow of the evening festivities.

He paused suddenly, and she walked into him, stumbling back with a stuttered apology.

Esti groaned to herself. How clumsy.

What an exemplary display of her observation. A great show of her attentiveness and skills as a veteran advanced field researcher indeed.

But the stillness in him had her looking up. She followed his amused gaze up to a sharp green and prickly cluster of foliage with vivid red berries. The small ornament hung innocently by a dainty ribbon.

Oh.

Her eyes met his and he smiled, "Traditions are what they are."

And then he was too close, too sudden, and she felt a gentle pressure against her forehead.

Silas pulled away, still smiling, "We better rejoin the festivities, lest Neiro ponder our whereabouts and come searching."

"Y-yeah." Face still aflame when he guided her by the shoulders back into the warmth of the room.

And then he disappeared into the din, already making himself scarce.

Huh. Guess he'd had enough of socializing for one evening.

She stood there staring after him.

Until eager hands clasped both of her own. Neiro was practically glowing. "I didn't think he actually would!"

She blinked, opening her mouth wordlessly before catching herself. "Then why did you put it there? Don't think I don't know you did. It wasn't there when I went out."

"Because he wouldn't have left if he'd seen it. Besides, it seemed like a good 'scuse so I snuck it on."

Her face exploded with warmth and she coughed, "Thank you."

Neiro laughed and pulled her into the throng of the party and cheering.

She was lucky to have someone like Neiro, and she found herself caught up in his upbeat pace, laughing and smiling as they enjoyed the food and company.

The Briar Patch (BP): Ch. 3 - Story Time

In the beginning there was nothing.

Nothing but a vast emptiness of space, scattered with celestial dust. 

From the scintillating motes amidst an eternal darkness, did Life seep into the world, each prismatic droplet bringing with it a rainbow of light and color.

The warm colors, red, orange, and yellow became the dawn and dusk, gathering at the horizons to become the sun. Every day they gathered in the sunrise, and dispersed in the sunset.

The cool colors pooled into a vast expanse both above and below. Blue and purple became the sky and seas both, and in a drop, was the moon born. The tears of the heavens would wash away the impurities and connecting all in the flow of Life. Where the cool waters went, so too did the prismatic arc follow.

The Briar Patch: Ch. 3 - Story Time

In the beginning there was nothing.

Nothing but a vast emptiness of space, scattered with celestial dust. 

From the scintillating motes amidst an eternal darkness, did Life seep into the world, each prismatic droplet bringing with it a rainbow of light and color.

The warm colors, red, orange, and yellow became the dawn and dusk, gathering at the horizons to become the sun. Every day they gathered in the sunrise, and dispersed in the sunset.

The cool colors pooled into a vast expanse both above and below. Blue and purple became the sky and seas both, and in a drop of sky and seas both, was the moon born. The tears of the heavens would wash away the impurities and connect all in the flow of Life. Where the cool waters went, so too did Life follow.

The Briar Patch (BP): Ch. 2 - On the Move

Zeal awoke to an uncanny silence so still as to set him on edge. It was unnatural. 

Zeal scanned the room and seeing nothing out of the norm, slowly lowered himself back onto the plume bol that Vye had conjured up. He was just about to pull the dense fluff of downy fibers over himself and go back to sleep, for it was still too early, and too cold for that matter, to be awake.

Yet something seemed out of place.

Vye.

He shot up.

The small Shol wasn't where he had lain down that evening. 

Had they been found? How? They had been so careful in keeping him literally under wraps. That someone could have uncovered them, and have skill to have snuck in, taken the Shol, and left without his notice--or perhaps that fool Shol hadn't learnt a thing from the incident in Black Burrows.

Moreover to have the audacity to target a ward under his protection. The mere thought seemed unfeasible, but the world was full of fools, and Shols were highly sought after. Particularly an unmarred, live specimen such as Vye, who would doubtlessly fetch a king's ransom. The temptation was high.

Whoever it was, there would be hell to pay. He went over the possibilities. Could it have been someone from before?  The darkened expression that flitted across his face quick replaced by perplexity as some of the incessant and particularly trying individuals from their journey thus far came to mind. None of them matched. 

He cursed the Shol for stopping him from disposing of their pursuers. It would've made things so much easier if he had.

Zeal was about to jump up when a small weight against his side gave him pause.

Dark eyes glanced down at the small shape huddled on the mote beside him.

Relief swept through him and his body grew lax with it. The alarm had been for naught, for the familiar small lump of his companion was huddled in the white wisps beside him. He wouldn't have to scour half the city searching for his companion.

He lay back down with a huff. Such peaceful and comfortable nights while on an assignment were a rare treat in his line of work. The Shol's magic certainly made things easier, their living accommodations an extension of his senses that would alert the Shol of any intruders. Zeal needn't remain vigilant throughout the whole night and could sleep proper. 

Yet this was odd. The Shol did not move much in his sleep, and to go from the other puff to his meant he'd been up and about.

"Vye."

The lump twitched.

He was awake at least, but feigning sleep. Zeal nudged the Shol nonetheless, having learned to play along with these facades, for it unnerved the Shol and made him wary when Zeal read him too well.

"Vye, what is it?"

The Shol sat up and he saw the huddled shoulders and thin pressed lips.

Ah.

"... Come here." Zeal held his cloak open, grimacing at the frosty nip as the chill air rushed in, and his companion dove in. 

The small form melted against him and he heard the soft sigh of contentment as the flap of his cloak fell to envelope Vye in a shroud of warmth.

Shols, while able to tolerate the cold to some extent, resented it greatly.

Producing little warmth themselves, the first onset of frost on the grass and Winter's harbinger found the poorly prepared Shol sluggish. Enduring prolonged chills made them susceptible to sickness, and would eventually see the Shol succumbing to hibernation where they would remain dormant until the air grew warm with the Spring.

Such hibernations helped the Lowland Shols to survive the harsh Winters where vegetation couldn't normally endure.

While the onset of Winter hadn't quite reached them yet, traveling to Whitedew Grove meant ascending the mountain trails of Sherpa's Passing before they could reach the forest's edge.

The ascension had been rough on Vye, and the transition of blazing desert heat to the bitter cold of the high alps meant the induction of an artificial Winter. Worse still, ascending the high altitudes meant a sharp contrast of colder and oftentimes unpredictable weather.

Keeping Vye from succumbing to his innate urge to sleep had been difficult, to say the least. Even during the day, the meek sun did little to warm them. The nights were worse still.

Lately he would hold his coat open and allow Vye to curl against him for warmth, but exhausted as he was the evening before, he had fallen against the plumy bol and been asleep before complete sundown.

Zeal leaned back into their makeshift bedding, waiting for Vye as the young Shol tried to get comfortable.

It was mildly amusing to watch the lump shift, pause, and shift again. There was a disgruntled huff and airy hiss as his diminutive charge found him unaccommodating, grumping that Zeal wasn't soft enough.

Spoiled thing.

He chuckled, a low raspy sound in the stillness, "Sorry, I'm not soft."

Vye gave a discontented grumble and scuffed at his belly.

Though sleeping on the luxuriously plush and downy fibers of the bols, Zeal had to admit that he himself was finding it harder to sleep on the ground cover, having tasted and grown accustomed to such indulgence.

When at last Vye had made himself comfortable he sighed. Parting a slit in Zeal's cloak the Bræmbel Shol poked his nose through the opening, and promptly fell asleep thereafter. 

Very spoiled thing.

Zeal snorted and lay back. Now that he was wide awake, falling back asleep felt like a hassle of effort in itself.

His familiar was within easy reach, as it always was, but maintenance would jostle the sleeping form currently making use of his warmth. 

Dark eyes stared at the foliage that adorned his head, colored with a pale green pallor. But the green was still much more welcome than the progression of mottled patches of red and gold.

Fool should've just helped himself instead of shivering against him. It was progressing far too fast.

The Shol had hid his condition from him for a large part of their ascent, and it was only after the lethargic spells got out of hand and Zeal turned to find his charge missing that he confronted him.

Those had been some tense few minutes as he worked through relentless snowfall, calling for his companion, and backtracking on the path he'd razed through. The snow was waist high for him and plain buried the other, and in the continued icy sleet, Time was precious.

Zeal found him laying still on the path he'd made. The snow that was already as tall as he was, continued falling and had nearly covered the small Shol. Hastily pulling him out, it had startled him when the torpid Shol's eyes blinked blearily up at him and he suddenly sprung to life, scrabbling at him and crawling into his coat, impelled by the tantalizing warmth that seeped through.

After that incident Zeal would shove the Shol into the pack underneath his fur cloak, carrying him while on the move. Though it was slow going, he wouldn't lose his charge to the cold of all things.

But even that might not be enough.

Despite their preparation and gear there was no stopping nature. Vye's body would soon follow its natural inclination and fully pass into the autumnal coat by which were their last consciousness before Shols would overwinter. Once preparations were complete and photosynthetic processes stopped completely, he would then fall into a lengthy, undetermined sleep, the extent of which varied greatly by circumstance.

Given how poorly the Shol had fared lately, there came a very real possibility that it may be one he would not rouse from, and Vye himself seemed to be resisting the compelling urge of instinct with something more than just a reluctance for the cumbersome grips of sleep. 

This speculation was only solidified by the underlying note of urgency as Vye urged Zeal onward to cover as much ground as the scant light of day permitted.

Just as it had been with the nectar collection before, this had come about from a slip in judgement.

He hadn't realized just how vulnerable Lowland Shols, such as Vye, could be to the cold. 

It was Zeal who pushed them to continue rather than wait for the harshest of Winter's passing, a decision in part due to the Time it would take, and Vye's claims back in the desert of how urgent it was for them to get to Whitedew. The extensive Winter in the Alps lasted more than just a few turns of the moon as it 

Though he'd pressed the young Shol on multiple occasions, Vye could tell him little more than that something was "calling to him".

Though he hadn't mentioned again how crucial it was that they hurry, the young Shol did not welcome rest and was reluctant to break camp, oft staring at the white-tipped peaks far in the distance in a daze.

Irritating blunder it was then that he had overlooked the obvious in front of him.

The Shol had been crestfallen at the snow and resigned to waiting. 

But something in his disappointment and desperation spurred Zeal to press on, after all it was nothing the Seeker couldn't handle. And Vye, though not without his hesitation, obliged. 

Once a Shol considered another within the bounds of friendship, their love was near unconditional. Not that they set a high bar, but Vye's experience had certainly raised it.

More and more, Vye had been warming to him, and a Shol's affection is a warmth that few could resist. Fewer still would ever be able to resist it.

Zeal had thought himself an exception. And he still is.

And slowly, did Vye place a tentative trust in the mercenary's judgement, entrusting his safety to Zeal's preparations.

Only, reality catered to none, and certainly not the clique romanticism of love and friendship triumphing against all adversity. 

In a way, he hadn't been wrong. The harsh climes were nothing to him. Vye however, was a different story. He had grossly underestimated how strongly the cold front and ice would impact Vye.

Zeal ran his fingers through the foliage, weeding out leaves that were already much too weak. He had seen the Shol prune himself more and more often in the past week of travel. With their current situation it was simpler to lose leaves. It took tremendous stores to upkeep his foliage in this environment, so the fewer there was to sustain, the better. 

Worse still, was the excessive heat and sun of the desert a week prior, which had instigated an abrupt plethora of burgeoning. A flurry of growth that not only consumed much of Vye's energy, but which would give little return, if not wither away. Most of it already had, but it taken its toll.

Even staying awake seemed to be taxing these days, and while plentiful foliage generally indicated good health, at the moment the weakening leaves were discolored. Excessive and unsustainable. 

Doubtlessly, Vye would need his strength for when they arrived. Expend too much of himself now and they could forget the fairy ri--

Zeal jerked back. Something sharp sliced deep into his finger. So sharp was it that it had cut clean to the bone, without nary a sting, until stopped by the blunt of bone.

Dark red droplets blossomed along his finger under his incredulous stare. The cut itself was invisible. Would still be had the sanguine beads not traced along the injury. 

That had felt almost like bloodthorn. A particularly pernicious plant to the unawares that grew deep in the thickets of the flooded mires of the lowlands. But Vye was a...

On that thought, what was Vye's subspecies? Some kind of angiosperm that he didn't recognize. Come to think of it he had wondered about it before. Zeal was no stranger to botanical studies. Only fools wouldn't furnish their arsenal with such vital skills when one had but their own resourcefulness to rely on.

That being said, he had thought it odd but hadn't questioned it then. There were more pressing matters.

The mercenary narrowed his eyes pensively at the crimson that now bled profusely. Carefully he parted the foliage to reveal, as his suspicions were, a thin curl of reddish bramble vine underneath the fuzzy broad leaves.

He knew nothing of the bloom the Shol exhibited. But it definitely wasn't bloodthorn.

There were few things that the vast Archives and their extensive network had properly confirmed and concluded to be definite regarding Shols, with the following distributed amongst dispatched reapers in the Harvest Moon to match the high demand with an ample supply.

Zeal gingerly pulled out a creased sheet, wary of the crimson droplets blossoming along his finger.

Harvest Moon

Enclosed is a brief overview of the Grand Archive findings to aid you in the Hunt. May your efforts bear fruit.

Zeal scoffed, amused. How sinister. Was the pun an intentional jab at the quarry? He skimmed through the overview of Harvesting until he found the general entry section he was looking for.

A Shol in their entirety contain potent properties and care should be taken to harvest a Shol whole as to leave nothing behind and prevent any waste of rS commodity.

Warning: Do not handle a Shol unprotected. Threatened Shols gain toxicity and will release miasma. Effects vary.

Shols thrive in warmer climates and strongly detested the cold. As such they will actively seek light and warmth. Being highly inquisitive creatures, arming an orbling lantern or conjuring up firefly lights with a heating element on a cold night is a highly effective method in luring out Shols. Anomalies: Cloudburst, Dewfern, Holly, most Conifers
Warning: Shols are wont to wander far from their Circle, and when threatened, will call for the aid of the pack. Care should be taken for the lone hunter, as the likelihood of swarming is all but guaranteed.

Shols have high aetherical tolerance and suffer no known detrimental affects to extensive aetherical influence. Keeping one in an ice chamber or the equivalent of by aetherical means, proves an effective method of storing and preserving Shols prior to consumption. Note however, that depending on the intended purpose, it may be prudent to prune the foliage beforehand as properties change with the onset of the autumnal overwintering coat. Care should be taken into proper identification of Shol subspecies. Anomalies: A reported case of a budded Shol-Ficklebrush subspecies 

Shols are classified by their subspecies, of which are determined by their environment, oftentimes taking after flora found in the vicinity of the Fairy Ring. Shols do, however, also have a high genetic influence and can carry inherent traits of genetic influence. 

While Sholian lore suggests at a variant, there are no reported cases of such genetic versatility, though a variety of closely related types may be exhibited by a given specimen, this trait does not extend beyond genus subspecies. Anomalies: n/a

Silently he carefully refolded the sheet.

While Shols themselves have been found with subspecies of just about every known plantae and fungi, individuals were of a single genus at the most, determined by both environmental and genetic influence. In short, they oftentimes took after flora found in the vicinity of the Fairy Ring if not from the fruiting Shols themselves.

Bloodthorn was most definitely not under the same classification as Vye's topiary.

Deft hands sifted the leaves and marveled at the multitude of foliage hidden underneath the top layer.

There were few things that the Shol withhheld from him. Zeal had stated that ignorance in their journey was a dangerous possession to indulge and the Shol had no objection, providing answers where they were needed.

This seemed like a huge oversight.

But he leaned back on the fluff, clearly the Shol thought it wasn't any of his business. 

But this could account for why Vye seemed so much more susceptible to the cold. It hadn't been his mistake entirely, but a result of information withheld as it often was with dubious clients.

Of course he had been unmistakably at fault, at least in part. There was no excusing that he overlooked the concerns of his charge and put them at risk. After all, one judges by the end result, not the means.

It did however, appease him a little. 

Though it answered little to nothing, he knew the most he could at the moment, and whatever else he would just have to trust Vye to tell him.

Eventually.