Snippets and Stories: (BP) In a Nut Shell

There was a lot Vye didn't understand about his own kind, young as he was.

From the beginning, he had been born not of an established Fairy Ring millenniums old as Hemlocke's had been, but a freshly sown Circle, barely breaching the turn of a century.

As it was, it lacked the same cultivation and depth, preoccupied as they were in establishing the Ring, such finer points of frivolity and luxury, they would forego.

There would be Time for that later.

Or so they had thought.

As such, the knowledge was never passed, and whatever secrets his Circle held, they took with them, far over the stars.

But it was okay. For there was another to light his way, and guide the young Coty now.

And it was as if a separate world had been opened before their eyes. Pried open by Lockes like a hefty oyster, and presented to him so that Vye may partake of the succulent and sweet flesh within.

The older Shol had patiently sat through their Enigma trials, as they each struggled to test their mettle with the various intricate, and meticulously crafted boxes, created and passed down amongst Hemlocke's Circle.

The Bluepine passed to him the culinary arts that his predecessors couldn't, showed Vye that there was more than simply biting into a piece of ripened fruit.

For the following moon, the air of the den was thick with the sweet scent of jams, fruit leather, creams, confections, baked bread and sweet pies, hot cider and chocolate, and more. So much more.

And then there was today.

Lockes was a seasoned Shol, and naturally the fastest of the three.

But contrary to Vye's belief that his natural predisposition would guide him, it was not him but Zeal who had finally completed the final Enigma--much to Vye's disappointment.

How was the mercenary so much better at this than him?

To be so much more proficient in an art his kind were so apt in.

Granted It was a separate skill altogether with little relevance to lineage.

Still it bothered the young Shol

So strongly had he desired worth, to excel at this conundrum his kind so coveted, for it helped him to feel some connection, however misplaced and distant, to the kin he would never know.

Yet as big a disappointment as he felt, bigger still was he one to his  predecessors, for he had failed them, spectacularly so. Though he knew that to be a ridiculous notion, still, it felt terrible to be so inept at an art beloved by his kind.

Like an unspoken approval of no basis, Vye felt as if excelling in the specialty of his brethren would somehow gain him the certainty of their approval as they would have in Life.

Not nearly clever enough to match wits with his kith and kin, to fill their metaphorical shoes.

But such internal strife did not go unnoticed, and Lockes pulled the young Shol aside and bit at his plumes. Tugging at the tangles, they clicked softly, "Things take Time, and of that Zeal has had a great deal. As you will too. Come, lets celebrate in his triumphs and immersion into our ways."

Vye had nodded and smiled, offering his jealous congratulations to his companion, who was oddly pleased.

And then they gathered the collective, and navigated through the lair, to find a deep hidden cellar of which only with each key were they able to open.

Lockes disappeared within, and brought upon their return a heavy weight they they alone struggled to bear.

A beautiful sleek wood of rounded contour stood before them. Such an odd shape, Vye had so noted, and the Bluepine had returned it with a good-natured, jovial laugh.

It was a cask. Meant to store and enrich the flavor of the contents within.

Hemlocke pried off the compressed plug of pulp, pouring out of the smooth wooden barrel a rich amber liquid.

Vye caught a whiff of various herbal infusions he could not name, before a cup was passed to him.

To the young Shol's surprise, Zeal seemed quite taken by the vast stores of Lockes's "vintages". He held an no small amount of interest and an unusual penchant for the assortment of fluids.

It was rather startling to see all the large casks, their sheer width thicker than even Zeal was tall.

But it wasn't just the impressive size nor quantity of the casks. They all seemed to contain something different, yet all of which Zeal was pleased by.

In some, there held amber in all its shades, ranging from being almost beige, to a deep, rich, and velvety black. It came in burgundy, a pale effervescent off-white color, the spicy cinnamon and clove amber of cider, and the vivid opaque blue of "misty moonshine".

They drank deep of their glasses, and were overtaken by a merry calm contentment, a deep warmth in his belly and a cloud in his head.

Vye sighed, swaying and finding purchase against Zeal.

Large hands caught him and eased him into sitting, head against the rough fabric covering Zeal's legs.

He slept soundly, and undisturbed. The best he had in far too long.