Snippets and Stories: (SS) Heart Wrenching

Cheshire stared at the scythe.

A blinding light.

And for a moment he believed himself to be by the moon, watching the lunar ascension.

He collapsed, left cold and bleeding in the streets with a sharp, nasty, cackling echoing faintly. He could scarce hear it above the suddenly deafening torrent of rain and odd emptiness in his head and chest both.

It was purely a misfortune born of coincidence.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Lost, But Not Forgotten (Part 1 of ?)

When they buried him, it was a clear day. A slight chill in the wind told of the onset of Winter, and the light meek, danced between sparse clouds and trees.

They saw him off, surrounded by friends, the atmosphere oddly lighthearted.

It was what he wanted. A remembrance of merriment, hope, and joy. Always had everyone been so beloved to him in Life, and himself so full of vigor, that even in his passing his last wish was for them to be happy in Life. To be seen off with a smile.

Snippets and Stories: (R) Unsaid

Some things were better left unsaid.

What point was there in dredging up such thoughts? Best leave the sword buried lest you hurt yourself or others digging it back up.

Inconsolable, for there's nothing to be gained from it, nothing that could be said that would amend.

The thoughts swirl in my mind and in the end I talk to myself, for there isn't really anyone else to talk to. Or whom I'd want to speak with.

Snippets and Stories: (A) Niche

Sil rushed home and went straight for his room, tossing a quick wave to Ignace so he wouldn't worry too much.

"How--" Ignace blinked as the redhead disappeared before he could ask, "... Did it go."

Maybe he was just feeling worn out. He had been out a long Time.

Sil meanwhile, had clambered into bed, burying his face into his pillow.

How could he have been so stupid.

He felt foolish for having thought otherwise.

He should've known better.

It had been a few weeks since he started when a group had come up and asked him if he wanted to hang out with them afterwards.

Sil had been skeptical at first but they had been so sincere. Sympathetic for the harassment.

"We'll meet up there, you better be there!"

Sil nodded, unable to help the small smile and giddiness in his step, when, at the end of the day he left to their meetup.

He was the first to arrive and he waited, shuddering as the fall breeze swept through the courtyard.

He couldn't wait, they all seemed so nice, they were going to go to the pumpkin patch and go around the carnival.

... But why had they wanted to meet here? There wasn't much around. Sil glanced up.

No one in sight.

Maybe they were running late. He smiled to himself, it would be a lot of fun to be part of a group, to laugh and play with others.

He would wait.

Ignace is a wonderful friend, but he couldn't keep relying on his senior's generosity.

Minutes came and went and slowly turned to an hour. Then another. And another.

Sil picked up his bag and left.

Maybe he had mixed up their meeting spot.

His hands felt numb, it was awfully cold and he hadn't expected to be out so long.

On his way home he spotted the group and waved to them, calling out excitedly.

They spotted him and he froze as a girl pointed a finger at him and laughed to her friends, "He actually waited for us!"

"You really thought we were going to hang out with you?"

"Wow, you waited all this Time? Stupid."

His face burned and he turned tail and ran, their laughter ringing in his ears.

"Aw, look, you hurt its feelings! Going to go crying back to poor Ignace?"

Honestly, what had he expected.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Why hadn't he seen this coming?

Maybe because he thought for once in his bloody life, someone actually liked him.

That he wasn't just the weird kid, the kind that everyone gave a 10 ft. berth to, or pretended they didn't see, or that was good for nothing but being the butt of someone else's joke.

The outright bullying he could take, but this... This had been cruel.

What hurt was he really thought he had made friends.

That someone liked him for who he was.

Not like Ignace who hung out with him for the perks of the buddy system, or was king because of obligations.

In his mind he remembered how happy he felt when they sat together during lunch break, the lively conversation, the closeness.

And it just made him feel all the more stupid for it.

People are horrible.

Sometimes they did things just because they can. They didn't need a reason for anything.

Inconsiderate, insensible, self-justifying, mean, and hurtful, amongst other things.

He had been naive and stupid

Idiot.

It was all just one big lie.

And he believed it.

Nursing his wounded pride, he huddled in on himself, still in his day clothes, and fell asleep.

He awoke much later to a warm hand jostling his shoulder, "Hey."

Sil feigned sleep. He knew what Ignace wanted.

"Fine, don't wake up then."

And he could almost hear the other sulking. It almost made him smile, despite how utterly low he was feeling. Almost.

To his surprise though, Ignace climbed on beside him and lay down on his back, arms crossed behind his head, "I don't know what happened, but it couldn't have been all bad, eh?"

Sniff.

Curses.

If he could see the Elemental, he was sure the other was grinning wider than Cheshire himself.

Ah well. He had him figured out, but that didn't mean he couldn't try if it meant putting off this talk.

"C'mon Sil, think we both know you're about as asleep as I am."

"... Zuzuzuh." He hissed stubbornly, hugging his pillow tighter and almost protectively in front of him.

"Someone's not getting clam chowder tonight."

"You made clam chowder?"

Bingo.

Ignace grinned, flashing teeth at Sil's wide eyes and hopeful expression peeking over the puffed edge of his pillow.

"Depends."

"Ignaaaace!"

As if on cue, the redhead's stomach gave a long, drawled out growl.

He hadn't eaten anything since lunch, and the mere thought of the piping hot, creamy, and savoury, yet delicately spiced clam chowder that Ignace sometimes made was enough to rouse the appetite he'd lost.

Ignace watched as he downed one bowl in the blink of an eye, and another well on its way.

Guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise, he must've been famished, having eaten nothing between his arrival, till the wee hours. Nevermind the Time before he got home.

Certain the other was content, at least in his belly, he inquired once more, prodding gently.

Hunger oft changed people.

Once comforted, most became much more amiable, and Sil was no different.

He divulged his afternoon and evening, if not hesitantly. How he'd met people and thought he'd made friends. They'd asked him to wait. And he had. When he'd finally left and run into them, they'd laughed at him.

Such deception was rather in poor taste.

But there was little he could do to make things better.

So he did what he could and put an arm around Sil's shoulders.

"At least I know who they are now, rather than later."

He nodded, and let the other lean against him.

Inside, Sil wondered whether he had done the right thing.

The girl's voice echoed in his mind.

"Going to go crying back to poor Ignace?"

He'd recounted the day like he normally would respond, though he did hesitate, some immature art of him feeling that he was only proving them right.

But more so, he wouldn't let others sway him. Then they'd truly have won.

Won what though?

You really are just a dumb child.

Sil grit his teeth. There was no real right answer.

All that would come out of this were bad feelings.

Yet even that was giving them what they wanted.

His only comfort was that tears didn't come easily to him. Never had.

And.

At least he had Ignace.

They had a sleepover that night in the main space.

"Lets go to the Fall Fairgrounds tomorrow."

Sil grimaced. It was where they had planned to go. Had gone. 

"I'd r-rather not."

"Not feelin' up for it?" Ignace prodded and the redhead shrugged uncomfortably, "S-something like that."

To be frank it had taken a lot out of the seasonal fun and he wasn't quite up for it, nor the chance of seeing them again on a weekend when he was free to just coop himself up and hide.

But Ignace smiled so gently at him, "Lets at least pass by. If you don't feel up for it then we can come home."

And he found himself nodding. Couldn't help doing so.

Sil stared at the Elemental in his peripheral.

He had Ignace.

Even if.

A maroon eye flickered down to stare at his badge and the small chip that indicated he qualified for Guidance perks.

He wasn't sure he truly did.

Something that didn't escape notice. But Ignace said nothing, just lay where he was, smiling. He wouldn't mention the furtive glances thrown his way in suspicion.

He couldn't fault the redhead for his distrust. A healthy dose of skepticism went a long way.

Ignace would prove himself with Time.

But first, he would make amends. Though he couldn't make the bad memories go away, he could give him the holiday fun and joy as it was meant for.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Passing Through

Shyloris lives a quiet quaint life, seeking solace in the flourishing of those around her and taking comfort in seeing the burgeoning of plants.

The walls were lined with her meticulously groomed creations. The bonsais were quite relaxing to look at.

Perhaps it's because she herself lacks Life, that she so tenderly cares for others, that they might burgeon and hold against the trials of Time.

For one such as her who would face little by way of struggles when it came to persisting through the Times, the burdens of Life and its resilience is bordered on fixation.

It was fascinating for her.

The  passion, the desperation.

It hurt to watch, to know she was above that.

Not by choice, mind, but those who lived in fear of Death would forever stand apart.

It wasn't like she wanted to die either.

Putting it that way seemed far too drastic. Neither was she ungrateful for what circumstances bestowed upon her.

But it also meant a profound loneliness of watching others grow, age, and eventually leave. They would pass and leave to a far off place, over the stars.

The brunette had watched them all through to the end. It was a long torturous departure that oft still ended with much left unsaid.

It was the most, and the least she could do to simply be by their  side.

She could never convey how much she treasured her Time with them, her love, and the heartache when at last they fell into their final rest.

As she whispered a chant from the scriptures that bade them safe passage, that they may finally be reunited with their beloveds, family and friends alike.

Forever in a place she would never reach.

For never could she cross that path.

Would never walk the bridge that those in passing would.

She longed to see them again, to feel the warm embrace of kindred spirits, of the Family she had so abruptly lost when the barrier had been erected.

The wards of the Veil were a terrifying place to be lost in.

"If you're ever lost, stay where you are. We'll always find you."

But not this Time.

She couldn't recall their faces, nor the loving voices that called out to her meek child self.

Shyloris was a curious yet shy child, and obedient.

But when the wards came up and they were separated, she knew even her parents, her strong father and mother who knew everything and were the strongest and smartest in the small world she knew, could not reach her.

This was one problem pappy couldn't resolve no matter what or how he tried, papa who could conjure up fire, and walk on water. That mum, who was so brave and strong, and collected, had for the first Time ever, seemed so genuinely frightened as she called out for her child, outstretched hand grasping desperately for her own small one.

Shyloris jerked up as a sharp cold lapped at her  cheek. The small clear center of the frosted surface told  her she'd touched the cold glass pane of the window.

Must have fallen asleep.

With a sigh she grasped for her mug, contents no longer steaming.

Taking a deep draught, she felt the delicate taste of the herbal mix on her palate.

Careful fingers wove wires to pull down the branches of the potted plant in front of her.

She snipped at the branches carefully. some would smooth over, others to form burly knots, yet all the same, pleasing to the eye.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Sibling Spat

They had been entangled in one of their usual playful banter when Ken suddenly broke off, "Oh! I should get going, Dr. Lokius should be done with his session now."

That seemed sufficient to turn Esti's mood the other way.

Not again.

North Star: Chapter 2 - The Bluff (1 of ?)

Rain grit her teeth and hoisted herself up onto the ledge.

"What a climb..." her breath came in harsh pants. Oxygen was terrifyingly thin at this altitude, but even with her lungs burning, deprived as they were of precious breath and drawing more in wracking heaves, she found herself breathless. 

It was a sight to behold.

Peering over the bluff she could see even farther into the steep sloping walls of the ravine.

If one looked carefully enough, they could glimpse the thin, sparse, and sinuous paths that wound huge loops in their ascent and descent both.

Paths, she had called them. But really, it was just the flats of animal trails amongst the rocky outcrop. Imperceptible except to the trained eye. The crude rocky terrain and Nature's reclaim left little of the mark of the Hou-Ahkka Sherpas.

Howa•hkah.

She chided herself for the mental slip in enunciation. Her Aurtrine accent still somewhat outlandish.

The ravine extended deep into the Earth, a stygian trench of endless night, impenetrable to the meek sunlight that filtered through the clouds.

A particularly strong gust nearly sent her of the ledge she had just climbed and she grimaced, crouching low and putting a wary distance between the edge and her person.

Not even the seasoned Sherpas dared venture into the Kukuli Mahn, or "Gaping Maw". Certainly, the experienced vagabonds could. Even the children were far better mountaineers with more experience than Rain could hope for in the little Time she had spent in these arid lands.

Nay, it wasn't the perils that kept them afar. It was a holy ground. A sanctuary.

The only Time the Sherpas would tread upon and ascend the ridge of the "Stone Dragon" was to lay the remains of their deceased.

Brown eyes scanned the sharp jutting stone. It was all quite fascinating really. 

Long ago it was said that a colossal dragon had fallen asleep here, and had awoken to life on his back. So fond of them was he, that the dragon stayed, that he may watch over them until the end of their Time. So long in fact, that his body perished, and through patrifaction, became the stone itself.

Closing her eyes she recalled the lively lore the storyteller had regaled her with while around the campfire. Even now she could smell the smoke, feel the flickers of heat as the wind changed. 

How it became the dragon's breath, the heat his exhalation.

Millenniums passed as he slumbered, and when he finally awoke, it was to life, thriving not around him, but on him. 

Thought he yearned to spread his wings, he dared not take to the skies, lest harm come to the quaint life that had so grown on his back. 

He stayed and watched over the diminutive creatures that flourished on his scales. Small and finite lives that were but a flicker in eternity. 

So long did he watch over them that his body became stone, for there was no water nearby that he could partake of, and slowly too did the life shrivel on his back. Where before they thrived on the perspiration of his form, and the mist of his expelled breath, did they now too dry up.

But never once did the dragon move, for fear of disturbing the small creatures. 

There were many stories of the dragon and his kin. How they taught man to make fire, or how the rolling waves of heat were their breaths.

Rain stretched her body, strength returning to her, having finally caught her breath.

Tucking a stray strand that had come loose in her climb, she hefted her pack on, careful to keep the weight evenly spread and on her waist rather than shoulders. 

She squinted at the scant clouds.

It was almost Time.

There was a glimmer somewhere deep in the darkness of the ravine.

She trudged back, giving her as much distance between the edge and herself.

Now.

And then she went off at a sprint and leapt.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Far Fetched (Pt. 1)

"What're you thinking about?"

"Just pointless things." He responded, forcing himself to focus on the screen.

But soon enough his vision slipped and he wasn't seeing the black print anymore.

Sometimes he would wonder about the "regulars" of the Tea Shop.

What even happened, or didn't happen.

The man grimaced, he must be getting sentimental in his old age.

Not that he missed them or anything.

Curiosity if anything.

And.

It was--well, it was a difficult matter to speak of.

Particularly so when there were few words that could encompass the absurdity. Or perhaps words have just failed him, and he, them in turn.

But thinking back to it, it was for that same reason that he had left the Academy.

Few knew that the truth of scientific advancement, was an open mind.

And certainly, it was that imaginative wonder that helped them advance. The foundations of science were but that. Foundations to build upon, or to restructure.

Science was a wonder in and of itself. Not all of it made sense.

But nothing came close to this.

Silas glared over the counter.

A sight he was all too familiar with.

Somehow they always found a way to him.

Towering over the other side was a massive plumed serpent whose pure white and borderline translucent scales gleamed with a pearly iridescence.

"Requiescence is all I would ask of you."

Silas ignored the serpentine creature and took the order of an elderly man who had just walked in.

"Please reconsider."

"..." Silas poured a drizzle of coffee liqueur​ over the swirl of creamy froth.

He passed the disposable coffee cup over the counter, the snake flickering its tongue in piqued curiosity as the graying man thanked him for the drink.

"None of you."

Alone once more, but nonetheless he spoke in low tones.

The great serpent turned, hopeful.

"None of you exist."

Dull green eyes stared up at the crestfallen serpent as it regarded him  through slitted eyes.

"I don't know why you all seek me out so, but I demand that you leave. There is nothing for you here."

I don't want any part of this.

The plumed serpent spread its wings and slithered into its own coils.

When he looked back, it was gone. As if it never was.

None of it was real.

No one else could see the shadows moving, the glinting lights and motes that danced in the window.

"There's nothing there Silas."

Long ago he learned to ignore it all.

A world he felt, heard, and saw, but could never say with certainty whether it was real or not.

Maybe he was insane, but a little insanity is how one stayed sane.

After all, there was just too much in Life.

But what is a little, and what is too much?

Plumed serpents that could talk.

The Barghest that demanded he return a ratty cloth bandanna and bone brooch.

A Book that wrote its own story and was in turn written in as the story was then brought it to life.

Somehow, Silas felt that he had stepped over the nondescript line long before.

Snippets and Stories: (I) Going, Going, Gone

Shir wanted to be left alone. He's long since known what he'd be told, yet he tried Time and Time again.

And despite being a writer, words have long since failed him.

Or perhaps he was the one who failed them.

It seemed to be all he could do right.

More than anything did he want someone to listen, and understand.

He oft did the same for others, because he knew the desire. The need.

It was never reciprocated.

No one really wanted to listen.

Nash had been talking shit, and let it slip by accident. He would then play it off as nothing. As irrelevant.

Shir laughed.

Daven tried to help in the most unhelpful ways possible. Shir wasn't his friend. Wasn't someone he respected nor believed in. Didn't have any weight to his name.

Then there was his partner who never had his back.

Who was always telling him he was wrong, while becoming exasperated by his frustration and lack of faith and confidence.

He hated them all.

And yet he wanted them to be there. To understand. To be actual friends.

But they weren't. And it wouldn't be fair to change them.

So he left.

He left and sat by himself. Hummed mindless tunes, and drew his knees to his chest that he could fit in the cardboard box in the back of his closet.

He closed the flaps, and listened to his shallow breaths in the small dark space, comforted.

"It's okay."

Snippets and Stories: (A) Look Alike

It had been unintentional.

Once in a while the twins wore matching outfits. It wasn't too unusual, what with their similar tastes, but they would, at the very least, stick to their own color scheme. Not for their own sake, but for the convenience of those around them as it just made for fewer mix-ups, misunderstandings, and the like. 

But there were some days where they woke up and left their rooms, completely and utterly identical.

As it were, it just so happened that today was one of them.

The two brothers stared at one another as they met in the hall, before grinning and waving one another off. 

Forswua had an early appointment and left first that morning while Ignace stayed behind. 

Besides, with the recent developments outside Lacore, he would much rather someone accompany Sil to the institution.

It was a perfectly understandable misunderstanding. 

If Sil had seen the twins, he would've certainly been more cautious in his approach. 

Circumstances being what they were, Sil had only just arrived at their usual hangout when he spotted Ignace pouring over one of Sil's favorite books that he had lent him the other day.

Unbeknownst to him, the siblings shared much. Belongings included.

With a small smile he crept up and leapt at the other, laughing as he pulled his hands over his tall friend's eyes, or where he assumed them to be. It was difficult reaching up so high with such short limbs after all.

Ignace started and knocked the offending limbs away as he whirled around, eyes wide.

The look of confusion only made his smile grow wider. It must've really startled him if he couldn't even find the words to come up with a clever comeback.

But he had had his fun. Affectionately, he took Ignace's face into his hands and binked him, pressing their foreheads together and doing the same with the cheeks as they oft would in greeting.

It was only when a cough and soft, "Oh my." from behind him that he realized something was off. The other was sitting far too stiffly.

He looked up, eyes meeting with a pair of perplexed lilac, and realization dawned on him.

Forswua sat there, looking very much uncomfortable and perturbed with the whole situation.

Sil leapt back hands flying defensively in front of him, "O-oh--"

Ignace was beside himself with laughter as his twin shot him an offended look. It was pure schadenfreude hilarity seeing Forswua so flustered.

Sil meanwhile was beside himself, apologizing profusely and stammering excuses that only served to dig himself deeper judging by the increasingly uncomfortable and somewhat disturbed look his brother shot him.

Thankfully he was saved when Ignace threw himself down on the bench, head in Sil's lap and trying his best to look as pitiful and melodramatic as could be as he cried out, "I thought we had something special Sil!"

Such theatrics were enough to make anyone laugh, and Sil was no exception. 

Ignace gave himself a mental pat on the back. It'd worked in helping to diffuse the tension and embarrassment for the two. 

Picking himself up, they settled into a more normal atmosphere of banter.

A week later Ignace was very much amused when Sil presented them each with their individually woven "friendship bracelet". that they were nigh forced into promising not to take off. Really though, they all knew what each unique bracelet was for, and that Sil knew that they both knew, and that they knew that Sil knew they knew.

Snippets and Stories: (A) Passing Thoughts

Forswua frowned, watching as the group knocked Sil off his feet, jeering and laughing as he stumbled and fell, sprawled on the grass.

It wasn't any of his business, he wouldn't intervene. Besides it was sickening that Sil wouldn't stand up for himself, and more so if he was hoping someone else would do it for him.

To his disappointment he redhead just sat there. He picked up his upended bag and belongings. And without a word, walked away, the taunts still following him.

He walked away, not with a huddled form as one would expect, but with his shoulders back. Yet he didn't hold his head held high. Just kept walking.

But when he rounded the corner, his shoulders drooped. His eyes crinkled and his frown deepened.

And then he spotted Forswua leaning against the pillar.

A red eye regarded him with a mix of astonishment and trepidation.

Had he seen what happened? Moreover, if so why didn't he do anything? He didn't actually enjoy seeing him hurt did he?

Was he the one who had instigated this?

... Would he hurt him too?

Sil broke the stare. He seemed taken aback and for a moment and Forswua thought his weak character would break into tears.

Sil did nothing of the sort.

Instead ducking his head and hiding his eyes as he pushed past Forswua.

This wasn't anything. Just another typical day.

Forswua was the last person he wanted to see him, caught in a moment he had thought himself alone in.

He could feel the disapproval emanating off the other.

So when he ran into Ignace, he wrapped his arms around the other.

"Sil? What's wrong?" Ignace spoke gently, concern evident. A gentle hand rested soothingly on his shoulder.

The redhead remained like that for a moment, face buried in the front of his sweater.

Then abruptly he looked up with big grin, glowing, "Missed you!"

Ignace felt himself melt and returned the hug with a tight squeeze of his own.

"I missed you too buddy."

Sil binked him, pressing their temple together and nuzzling into the sweater. His nose was awfully cold.

When Forswua arrived later, Sil said nothing of the earlier incident, and so he let it be.

He studied the redhead carefully, keeping a vigilant watch with his peripheral.

The redhead was as he always was, if not a touch more nervous, though it was difficult to tell with his perpetual stutter.

Ignace, being the concerned and attentive individual that he was, took notice, and inquired, "Everything okay?"

A small nod.

"Mmm." Ignace let it slide, he didn't wamt to bother Sil, "If something's troubling you I'm always here to listen."

Sil nodded, beaming up at the other, grateful he had his company.

Ignace melted at the look and ruffled the red curls, chuckling at the exclamation as Sil tried to escape his long reach.

Forswua scoffed and turned away from the display. It was hard to believe Sil didn't realize what he was doing.

But whatever. Ignace seemed to be enjoying himself and it was none of his business.