Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Smoky Mirrors (Pt. 2 of ?)

It wasn't often that she visited the aetherical realm. Few could ever tap into such, and if it weren't for her bound Heart acting as a makeshift gate, neither would she.

Shyloris cradled her head gingerly, snuggling deeper into the fluffy blanket. The thick steam and fragrance wafting up from her mug of herbal tea helping to soothe the dull, yet prominent, pain in her head. An after effect of prolonged exposure to such high aetherical densities.

Speaking from experience, she would experience bodily weakness and nausea for the next week, if not longer. The weakness would be most evident in the chill that seemed to cling to her.

Her first passage nearly saw her diffused into the overwhelming sea of aether, what with no anchor by which to stay grounded to. But the brunette had wrenched herself out. Thankfully it was at her hollow, and Loomington saw to her needs, nursing her back to health in the den.

The thought brought a chuckle and weak shake of the head. She had practically been bed ridden then, unable to stand with the vertigo as her vision refused to still.

At the very least she had been able to channel a gate back into her dwelling at the Academy.

Neiro knew full well the effects of the aether on those of flesh and blood, and would likely be by her quarters later to check up on her.

And true enough, that evening there came a sharp rapping.

As expected, the door opened to reveal the familiar and concerned face of her dear friend out in the hallway "Hey."

"You feel well enough to eat?" he stepped in and spun in a circle, pushing the door shut with his foot before turning fully to face her, "I brought some of Sy's cooking if you're feeling up for it."

The aroma of the delicate yet savory taste of Silas's cooking brought a bit more dribble to her mouth, and she swallowed, but before she could speak her body spoke for her.

Neiro let out a hearty, barking, laugh as the brunette flustered, "Sounds like a 'yes' to me!"

It was a good sign, for a growing appetite was a sign of recovery.

As it turned out, the enticing scent turned out to be a lightly seasoned, generous, pan-fried fillet of halibut. To go with it, Silas had plated some steamed broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots, and lastly, a bowl of transparent broth. A mix of vegetables and chicken, with the harsh elements strained out.

Aside, Shyloris wondered whether the man was aware of what he was doing. For food was a medicine too, to be taken in moderation.

And a remedy it was.

She felt her strength returning as she took in the sustenance, so rich and nurturing as much her Heart and soul as it did the body. The nourishment filled her core with a soothing warmth that radiated outwards.

It was cozy, and she leaned back into the plush cushions of the alcove. Having finished, they were both in the alcove, sharing a blanket that they draped over their lower halves, back supported by the plentiful pillows, most if not all of which were Shyloris's own handicraft.

She stared out the window at the changing leaves. Time was still flowing. The seasons were changing.

There were things she wanted to ask but didn't feel right to. It wasn't her place, let alone her business.

"It's alright to ask."

Shyloris started and turned towards her company.

Neiro was sitting there across from her, a serene smile on his face, "You have a right to know."

But she hesitated even then.

The albino waited patiently.

At length she asked, "Neiro, what are you here for exactly? I never once asked because--"

Because what?

Because it wasn't any of her business. 

Because the Keepers were practically unheard of, such was the neutrality and secrecy they so adamantly protected, unyielding and without exception. 

Because--she glanced at the Numen who still sat there waiting.

Because she doubted that Neiro would give her full disclosure.

There wasn't a point in asking.

She turned her bemusement to Neiro, searching his mismatched eyes, though for what she knew not.

In this small childish form, so unassuming, it seemed almost... insidious. 

Though she supposed it suited such aetherical beings well. Certainly, the tales painted them to be cunning beings. And yet their detachment was never dangerous, per say, as they desired no involvement with the petty matters of the corporeal.

Neiro answered easily and with far more brevity than Shyloris believed appropriate, "I'm here for the void, and by relation Silas."

It stung a little, and it served as a painful reminder that the puppet of flesh and blood before him was but that, a puppet. Numens were apathetic and detached, and for them to form bonds was unheard of.

Why then was Neiro here? To have such a lengthy and physical presence, to interfere so much with the timeline. To leave so many traces. Quite frankly it seemed rather messy and lacking much in the stealth and tact of his peers.

But she caught herself. 

"His case is rather difficult and there is still much that isn't well understood. There isn't a quick fix for something like this." Her friend sighed, "I wont ask you for your faith. In your position it'd be downright dangerous and foolish to put unconditional trust in one such as myself."

Shyloris doubted she would be able to ascertain the Numen's full intent. Mayhaps before she would believe that Neiro wouldn't hide matters, or give misleading truths. 

And if she was perfectly honest, she still didn't believe deception to be Neiro's game. He had been nothing but honest with her. Certainly, he didn't simply fill her in on matters, he left that to her own discovery. But that was the way of the Numen, who guarded the continuum, nothing more, nothing less.

A cool hand came to rest atop her own, "There isn't a gain for me."

She looked up at him. If eyes were windows to the soul, then his were sincere.

Nonetheless, experience forced a wry smile to her face, "One that isn't there, or one that just hasn't come to light yet?"

Neiro chuckled, "Ever the skeptic. Hold on to that, it's the character of the wise."

But the storm broke, and where the two were, the sun shone once more. The two snuggled and nibbled away at the delicate pastries that Silas had so carefully crafted by hand. A set of egg custards, a rectangular slice of tiramisu, and a hot horchata garnished with a cinnamon stick to ward off the chill.