Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Burgeon

It was a mere projection, nothing more.

What he desired, what is forever beyond reach.

Neiro took in the lush splendor, in the middle of which stood the Apex of the Academy.

Silas indulged himself a bit too much in the nonexistent world between, and it worried him. Though given the Invalid's physical state it wasn't difficult to empathize. Shaking his head he hoped that despite it all, Silas remained grounded to the reality.

But it was quite a sight to take in.

The scintillating light, and biting, almost harsh chill of the wind, amidst the dense greens.

In the middle Silas stood,  face tilted towards the surreal sunbeams filtering down, serene.

The plants coiled around him, growing at whim.

It was with a growing weight that Neiro took it in.

For it was what would not come to pass.

Silas desired tranquility. To live his remaining days in the peace and quiet of his home without the intrusion and irritation of society.

The other may not have voiced such thoughts, but his retreats said it all. The koi pond, the quiet serenity and utter calm of his projections.

The man wished for peace and quiet.

Neiro's admiration went beyond that though. To have been able to create such large scale projections even through an astral pod was something of great latent power and determination.

Few could conjure up more than their bare conscience, and here Silas was raising towering forests of ancient old-growth trees, and yet the Invalid did not fail to overlook the delicate curls of fern and dainty blossoms.

There were few things Silas could do outside of the projections of the Astral Pods, and even existing, keeping the fire burning, had become a trying task as of late.

Neiro stepped lightly into the clearing, the crackling of leaf litter underfoot announcing his presence.

Briefly he marveled at the meticulous detail of it all, and the odd transition from carpet to cool green blades underfoot, the occasionally daisy poking out of a clover patch.

Silas didn't turn, but he did move to sit. And gingerly, Neiro lowered himself to sit back to back with the Invalid.

"You're warm."

A smile flitted across his face, "I would hope so."

There was no playful banter. Just the distant song of feathered beasts, and rustling of the high wind through the overhead leaves.

In the pause he nearly drifted off, but a voice pulled him out of the comfortable grasp of sleep, 

"You're here in flesh then."

"I am."

The weight on his back grew, "I'm glad."

Neiro drifted off to sleep in the afternoon sun, enveloped by the lush retreat.

When he awoke it was to the sweet thick aroma of pumpkin spice.

It took a moment of recollection to remember he had fallen asleep in the living room. The scent of pine had clung long after Silas released his projection.

Yawning wide, he picked himself off the carpet and padded over to the kitchen where his flatmate doubtlessly was.

And as expected, the brunette was pulling out a tray from the oven, the contents of which roused him to full consciousness.

"Pumpkin spice cookies!" He beamed.

"Give them a Time to cool." The Invalid chided.

But Neiro had already popped a cookie off and was munching on the soft chewy treat, sighing contentedly.

Silas shook his head, a hand at his temple. But there was no illwill in his grumping, nor anything more than theatrics behind his actions.