Snippets and Stories: (BP) Regression

Somehow, Vye had grown weaker.

Not in the sense that his health had taken a turn for the worse, but rather his psychiatric state seemed to have drastically regressed.

His speech had developed a certain brevity, and he spoke little and less as.

As the days passed the young Shol seemed to forget his independence. In place of the fierce determination was a meek puppy that followed every step of Lockes's heel at their every beck and call, constantly seeking the severed Shol's approval.

The only change and likewise explanation for this behavioral change, would be their prolonged stay at the den. 

"We'll be moving on the 'morrow."

Lockes frowned, dropping the gathered harvest that they'd just finished washing onto a spread cloth, "And what is it that you think you'll accomplish? Going out in that state?" From a holster at their waist, the dark Shol pulled out a ceramic knife and began the evening preparation.

"It matters not, I've had worse and it's best we not linger."

There was a contemplative hum, "And why is that?"

"He's almost fully recuperated and whatever this is--his mental health is deteriorating." Or so he'd explained to the Bluepine. He went on about Vye's vocalizations, or lack thereof, how they seemed to be constantly pining--the Bluepine chuckled at the inadvertent pun--for the attention of the severed Shol like some lost pup. Then there was his fragmented personality. How meek the young Shol had become, and the loss of character.

With dutiful silence did they hear him out, nodding at the occasional pause, or with a wave of their hand to indicate that the mercenary continue, before a distasteful frown spread across their features while concern knit their brow, "This you would stand by?"

Lockes snorted at his affirmative, "Our languages are far too different, Reaper. That you would interpret him so. Either that or you've not dealt with children."

With a heave they stood, leaving the chopped vegetation and tubers for the various creeping tendrils to carry in their stead.

"Weakness, perhaps." Lockes swiped up a stray weave and wiped his hands clean, "But you misunderstand. It is but a necessary walk of Life, for he is still a seedling. Let him have this reprieve, Reaper."

"Zeal." the mercenary returned, "Be that as it may we don't have Time for that. Maturation is a slow grueling process in Shols--there's no rushing it, and I haven't the Time to wait decades for him to 'lay down roots'."

"True enough. Then leave." 

It was spoken so lightly that Zeal balked. "Pardon?"

"I said, leave. I'm already hurrying things as it is, if that is not Time enough for you then you best resign from this mission and burn the contract." At this point the Bluepine stood to tend to the pot, "I'll not send him to his deathbed."

Languidly they turned back to him, and perhaps to a Shol the display of raised quills and serpentine vines that flowed around the Bluepine would make for a fair intimidation, but to Zeal, Lockes seemed but the invoked ire of a plush doll. Not that he would dare treat the severed Shol as one.

"I'm not leaving. And you're mistaking necessity and luxury. Vye doesn't need this indulgent pampering. He was doing just fine before." Despite the inadvertently endearing quality of the display, Zeal wasn't about to take the other lightly, should they take offense the results would be no different than their match. A provoked Shol, even lone as they were, were a force to be reckoned with. And even then, remembering their first encounter and subsequent fight, the Bluepine was far beyond the ordinary.

"Just fine." The Bluepine echoed back dryly with a wry grin, "Is that what you believe? Because you could've fooled me. Lest you've forgotten he was at risk of falling into his final rest not a week ago."

"A miscalculation on my part. I wont be so fool a second Time." he spoke with just a touch of bitterness.

Not directed at anyone in particular, the Bluepine noted, but at the knowledge he lacked of the children of the Verdance.

A fault not directly his own either, and one they could little blame the Reaper for, for the archives had but focused on their utility, not Shols themselves. But neither would it keep a wry grin from the severed Shol's face, a skeptical scoff that was borderline derisive.

Lockes tossed the long preparation ingredients into the pot--hardy tubers, starch heavy ingredients that were meant to dissolve and thicken the soup... the carrots too for the Bluepine had a penchant for their texture, stewed till soft and soaked with delicious mushroom broth.

A tantalizing scent wafted up to them and the dark Shol breathed deep, savoring the delightful aroma that was already filling the air.

But there was something important to address, and they sighed, wistful for the simple Times past.

A Time where the most severe of conflict were the squabbles over who got to sleep in the cozy moss nest closest to the hearth--or the growling barks of two kins tousling for a favored comb of honey.

"He is not regressing--he's growing. What you're seeing is but a misunderstanding."

Skeptical though he may be, Zeal stayed his tongue and Lockes nodded approvingly. Though doubtful, they were receptive to whatever light the Bluepine would shed on the matter.

The dark eyes of the Reaper met their's.

Enlighten me.

Few had the ability to look past stubborn pride and welcome the words of another to stay off ignorance, to admit to and accept the consequences of their mistakes, and to better themselves.

In this, the Reaper fared better than many a Shol had.

Pride was rarely contested amongst those of the Verdance--for they were all equals in the gift and there was nothing that made one better nor worse than another. Still, when it came to personal growth, many denied aid, preferring to stand on their own legs. No Shol took well to help while working through an Enigma. After all, it was little fun to be guided by another's hand, when your own was perfectly capable of the same.

And there was a certain charm and joy to being the one to undo it, it was why their trials had been instilled--that a highland Shol's first lockbox be unhindered by their brethren who meant well, but whose hovering and fretting likely only exasperated.

Such qualities contributed less to teamwork and oft impeded progress, but many a Shol preferred to grow by their own means.

While independence was not necessarily a bad trait, stubborn pride was one that oft became a hindrance when Time was of the essence. Another happenstance that didn't come often, for back in the days when the roots of the Alpione Ring spread deep, there was little rush in the passing days. The Verdance's bounty had been great, and there was no lack of entertainment, be it that of simple company, or the complexity of the once-upon-a-Time, constantly growing heap of Enigma boxes.

"Certainly, Vye's speech has grown progressively clipped to mere phrases, but it is not a decline as you so believe it to be of meekness and mental regression. Such is but Vye reverting back to the customs he is so familiar with, and which bring him much familiarity, comfort, and peace of mind. All of which are crucial to the restoration and recovery of his compromised foliage. We of the Verdance are of few words, for words are reserve but for the dire. To this, I may prove an exception--however--"

Lockes stared at darkness of the cold cell, the putrid stench of decay rising in a noxious miasma that lay dense over the ground. An insidious fog, unassuming as the morning mist.

"--I've also an exceptional past that has lent to my familiarity with the common tongue by which the children of Solaris speak." A bout of shyness welled up in them then, and Lockes was, by their own explanation, inadvertently aware of the ceaseless gesticulations that accompanied their speech. The severed Shol clasped them behind their back to resist the temptation. For even as one of those most familiar with exchanging words by tongue, it was difficult not to accompany such articulations with the physical expression.

With a sigh, they shook off the thought and clearing their throat, went on, "On your travels Vye hadn't the choice but to depend upon his own resourcefulness and contrivance, of which would likewise lead to his reliance upon that of one who may very well be the end of him. It's understandably taxing."

The Reaper offered no objection, and Lockes carried on, "Here, he has entrusted that role to me, has been comforted by my--comparatively--vastly greater experience, arcane and martial prowess both, and acknowledged me as the guiding sun to point him from dawn to dusk. Just as the shepherd's cane warrants the safety of his flock, so too does he find reassurance in the weight I would bear for him. Perhaps to you he may express less of what you would associate with maturity given your history together, and perhaps you are not wrong in saying he is less so of an adult now. But make no mistake--it is no regression."

"The weight he bore for his mission--and by extension, for you as well." The Bluepine placed their hand upon their center before extending it out towards him as if presenting something immaterial. It was a pointed and elegant sweep of the hand, of which prompted a raised brow.

"He needn't bear a weight for me."

"And yet this conversation would prove otherwise." He didn't like the patronizing grin the Bluepine gave him, nor the knowing eyes that seemed to just bloody know as they rested their head languidly on their propped hand. A matter only made more irritating by the very logic that resounded in their spoken truths, "Would you have accompanied him and risked your very well-being through the perils you had, had you believed this to truly be some insurmountable task? Do not lie to me Reaper, you are not so noble nor foolish a soul."

With a shake of their head, that infuriatingly ever-present smile rested, but a gentle curve of the lips, "He needed to prove himself. Not for his own peace of mind, mind you, but for you and the sake of the burden he carries. To ensure your alliance holds for as long as it may."

"That doesn't change the matter that he's grown soft in his stay here."

"Everything he has done, he does for his purpose. Yet even a soldier need must sleep, would you not grant him this reprieve, Reaper?" Lockes returned easily, "To have done as much as he already has, has been a great source of tension, all of which manifested as stress that served to weaken his system and left him weak to the elements. Coupled with the harsh climate of the Alps, such vulnerability a young Shol such as himself could not very well endure." Lockes smiled, "But credit where it is due. You were not wrong in your judgement, Reaper. Had it been under normal circumstances such a journey would not have burdened him so. A little cold such as this, Vye could very well weather, given the commendable care you have taken into preparation."

The praise had taken him off guard and the perpetual droop of the Reaper's eyes seemed to lift--just a little.

"Aye, that being said, however, it is as you've stated. Had it not been for ignorance he would not have fallen to the brink of sleep eternal. I do not begrudge you for the lacking information of you and your's, pertaining to mine own. But had you taken the Time to better understand the situation of your charge and determined him unfit for traversing such a lengthy ascent as that of scaling Whitedew, then perhaps the situation of now could have been avoided altogether."

"I asked him beforehand--" Zeal started, then stopped.

The dark Shol waited patiently, stirring the pot on occasion, "And what were his thoughts on the matter?"

"... That we lodge until the break of frost."

"You pushed him to make the journey, and--" Lockes was still smiling, "He knew no better, only what was expected of him. If he couldn't ascend even a pile of snow, how was he to instill confidence and commitment in this overwhelming duty?"

Zeal looked as if he wished to refute, but thought better of it. To claim better expertise of Shols than one themselves was pure folly.

"Vye holds back much that he may continue seeking what will never be found--because the world is not kind, and arduous is the least that this will be. The Coty knew he couldn't, but he desires naught more than to be able to. Not for your approval, and not for mine, but for his own and the weight of what once had been but no longer is."

"Make no mistake Reaper, we seek but the same end--Vye's well-being. I have not overlooked the good intent that you are but looking after his best interests in the way in which you are most familiar with." When Zeal didn't speak, Lockes frowned, tacking on in afterthought, "The long and short of it is this, Reaper. We all need our peace. Vye has held out much, and it has strained him. This here is but a haven where he can be what he only is. It is not a step back nor a step forth."

The Reaper seemed to mull it over before giving a slow nod.

This they would leave for the other to ruminate, but not without a parting comfort, for brewing a grudging discontent or forced coalition of thought was the work of fools. Lockes placed a hand on the mercenary's shoulder. Even sitting, he towered over the Shol, the contrast in height bringing a chuckle from the Bluepine, "That being said, he is doing more than you know."

That got his attention. Lockes's smile relaxed some, "Chin up, Reaper, your precious ward hasn't lost Heart, nor has he fallen for this false peace in the eye of the storm. Quite the opposite, actually."

And with that, Lockes dolloped up two generous bowls of soup, passing them off to the awaiting vines before clambering up the bracket shrooms. With a curl of the hand, they beckoned to him, leading Zeal through the maze of the hollow heights above and shushing him at intervals when they deemed him too loud, until at last they came to a small glow.

They stopped just short of the branching hall, "Be at ease, for you are underestimating him by far." Lockes smiled gently, "It is well and good that Vye has not heard you. He 'pines' after me, following to and fro in observation and seeking me not for a knobbly crutch, but as the smithy's anvil--an anchor and forge that he may yet steel himself with a deeper connection to the Verdance--and subsequently the kin he no longer has. To expand upon his repertoire, be it merely a good habit to keep, or the practicality of the finer points of floral manipulation that he may increase his chances. Every waking moment he spends contemplating on how to better his odds of survival, both for the continuation and success of his journey."

With secretive smile that glowed with a touch of pride, Lockes raised their hand, a mere silent tapping of the lips before facing their palm away, and beckoning to him once more.

He crept closer, and a mellow note echoed in the narrow tunnel, reverberating in the wood. The closer they crept the stronger and fuller the notes grew, and he realized that the living walls nigh hummed with its resonation.

"This is an old conclave that I've told him would be his space to retreat to so that he may focus and improve upon that which I've taught him in peace, unhindered by distractions and the like."

The sight that greeted him, stole his breath.

Scintillating motes of pollen and spores from the surrounding lush of green encircled the young Shol as he sang the Heart's Song. There was Verdant life all around him, a thick mat of lichen a cushion beneath him, while the branching vines and coniferous flowed before him, contorting in graceful arcs as they sculpted, slowly but surely.

An audience of woodland creatures lay around him, living wood that snoozed softly as they were, soothed by the lullaby of their maker.

Lockes turned their appreciative gaze to the young Shol. "He's not lost sight of his chosen path."

No words came to him, for none would find him now as he stared at the serene den where Vye kept singing, oblivious that his audience had grown.

Indeed, Vye had never forgotten his path, and every step was filled with a purpose that but brought him ever closer to his absurd end.

"Now go to him, and bring him his share while you're at it. There'll be plenty more down in the commons if the two of you still hunger."

The bowls were pushed into his hands, and his body, still clumsy in recovery, fumbled to grasp them.

"Oh, and do have a nice long talk, just the two of you." Lockes hummed, as if exasperated.

A hand pushed the small of his back and sent him with a startlingly forceful push, into the den.

Zeal winced, that had been yet another manipulation, but he hadn't caught wind of what kind, only that the puny and frail body couldn't contain the strength for such feats.

He did manage to catch himself, but not without blowing any pretense of whatever stealth the Bluepine had taken as they had made their way here.

Vye stared up at him, the surprise fleeting as a large grin spread across his face, "Zeal!"

The young Shol chirped and was on his feet at once, the woodland critters at pace beside him.

And then Zeal was mobbed.