Zeal wasn't one easily drunk under the table, and had an unusually high tolerance for hitting the bottle.
While most found the trait of unmatched alcohol tolerance to be enviable and coveted it greatly, Zeal felt nothing for it.
Though it proved useful when collecting information--for he could easily drink away the night with mind intact while loosening the tongue and memories of fellow patrons--it made matters difficult to dispose of when he desired nothing more than the comfort found in the bottom of a glass, for the sheer quantity and necessary for him to feel the utterly delightful pull of drunken disregard was all but inconvenient. Inconvenient and expensive, for he had a penchant for only the choice glass, and preferred a drink of quality rather than quantity.
Which was why it came as a pleasant surprise when the familiar warmth washed over him after throwing back a mere shot. One of many that he would partake of that night.
The Bluepine had, warned him with a click of their tongue, "Ah-ah, not too much, Reaper. This is a potent brew."
To which Zeal brushed off after taking a tentative sip. He'd heard the same boasts of many a spirit, and thus far the strength of Sholian concoctions didn't prove an anomaly, nor did they seem to fall beyond the normal range. This drink too, didn't seem particularly strong, and the sweetness like mead made it go down easily.
Yet Shols seemed full of surprises as they were wont to do.
Another few glasses and the intoxication had him firmly in its sweet grasp, a feeling he all but surrendered to, for there was a distinctive sense of complacency and contentment in doing what he did best--not giving a damn.
It was unusual for him to become involved and for so long. Having a hefty personal investment in Vye's merry chase had been more than wearisome, and for the first Time in far too long, he slept well.
Unusual, for his occupation scarce afforded such luxuries.
"... Frankly, it's impressive that he wasn't downed after two. This is our most potent brew and Fleshlings, despite their larger size, rarely tolerate such spirits as well as a Shol. That he can hold his cup so well..." the Bluepine chuckled, "Your guardian is full of surprises."
Vye nodded dumbly as he watched the gentle rise and fall of Zeal's chest as he snored softly against the Bluepine's lap. The severed Shol had taken it upon themselves to take care of his intoxicated guardian and the inevitable hangover that would follow the next morning.
For now though, lending their lap would be enough. The Bluepine smiled, cradling Zeal's head on their folded legs. An idle hand daintily coiled a lock of hair before stray fingers found their way into the tangled mess of hair, working at the knots.
There was a Time when they had similarly done the same for another. But that Time had passed.
"Lockes?"
The Shol glanced up at their name, humming an acknowledgement nonchalantly.
"How did you... Get away from the Reapers?" Maybe... Maybe he could learn. And--Lockes was so talented and proficient in the arts. Arts he never knew could be honed so.
Vye stared at the hearth where the fire burned merrily. Things he didn't know his kind could do.
There was much he didn't know. Thought he'd known.
Truth be told, until they ran into the Bluepine, he'd thought himself, at the very least, competent. Certainly, in the company of his Ring his abilities had been sufficient, for they did little more than nourish the Earth, partake of the Verdance's bounty, and bask in the light of the Solar Warden, reveling in it's warmth. There was little need to do otherwise, and lesser still the incentive. The Bræmbel Ring had provided but a simple Life, where they went through the walks of life but at their own pace.
But in the wake of the fight, it was doubtless that what he'd known was but a pond.
Lockes was right, in the face of the Bluepine's mastery, he was but a seedling who knew nothing of his own kind. Who had yet to realize that the lush green that adorned him was but the seed leaves and believed the grass around him a forest. Having seen the ocean in the horizon of the puddle he knew, there was but a long and difficult road ahead. And the only path forward.
With a start, he realized Lockes hadn't answered and he raised his head only to see a similar pair studying him closely.
The scrutiny was unbearably uncomfortable, and the young Shol averted his gaze. Unseen was the smile and quiet scoff as the other huffed,
Vye was still far too young, so easily unnerved.
Yet here he was, embarking on a journey that could only be arduous as only Life could be.
Lockes chuckled. There were many who were better equipped and suited for such--and yet.
They gave the Coty a sidelong glance, "It's a long story. Too long to be spun before Lun descends and Sol follows, ever 'n pursuit." The smile the severed Shol gives him, though unchanging in their warmth, held no invitation for further conversation.
They sat in silence, Lockes still smiling and combing Zeal's hair. Vye took the break in conversation with a lot less grace, fidgeting with his sleeve and fretting over nothing.
Despite the serene smile that betrayed nothing, Vye had an inkling that not all was well.
But he could think of nothing to say, and it left him with too many needless thoughts. Lockes was an amazing storyteller, but though they spun much in their performance, few pertained to the severed Shol themselves. Though they asked many a question and story of their own misadventures, the Bluepine supplied none of the same.
Vye wanted to know more about the Circles. About his kith and kin. About Lockes.
But just as he'd reconsidered his approach and dredged up the courage to ask again, he heard his own name.
Not from the Bluepine, but from his guardian.
Zeal stirred, blinking blearily up at him, "Could ask the same of you."
He was taken back, "Ask what?"
"How come you survived? How did you get away, and stay hidden, for so many years after the Harvest Moon, when everyone was hunting for... your kind." a frown crossed the mercenary's face and he grumbled tiredly under his breath, eyes slipping shut and brow furrowed in his perplexity. And perhaps speaking from personal experience now, "There were so many others... Adversaries who were far stronger... who were far more worthy game... and made better sport. It doesn't make sense."
It was the alcohol talking. This Vye knew, but it did little to blunt the hurt.
Zeal muttered and rolled onto his other side, "How are you alive? There's nothing special about you that would've made a difference. If anything... Your very nature makes you... more susceptible."
Nothing special.
His condition had certainly afforded him no advantage.
The Heartseed within twisted painfully and almost instinctively, Vye drew his knees to his chest. Unintentional though the insult may have been, it was one nonetheless.
At the crestfallen expression, Lockes decided now was a good a Time as any.
There was a subtle shift in the severed Shol's posture. They were themselves curious as to the circumstances pertaining to the seedling's survival and in want of answers--but not with the Reaper listening.
"Close your eyes Zeal. Sleep now." they whispered as soft motes wafted from their needles, a sight that stole the breath from the young Shol. The Reaper grunted and did as the dark Shol bade. Within moments sleep had overtaken them, for his eyes did slip shut and his breath even.
"It's fine to breath now." Lockes smiled, musing aloud as they turned to Vye, "Did you know what those were? Or have you perchance seen them before? Not many Shols can produce this miasma, after all."
Slit eyes turned their curious gaze to him. The Bluepine's voice changed. Still with the melodic lilt, but it was much more serious now, "But--"
It was Time to see if the Coty himself was familiar with the tale, and whether they understood the extent of the sacrifices made on his behalf.
They heard Vye's breath hitch, tensing in apprehension and anticipation for the coming questiin.
"I second that. How did you evade the Reapers?"
And yet more importantly, for Lockes had a fair understanding of the circumstantial "how"s, did little Vye know why he survived? Truly, it wasn't a question of how that was important, for the Bluepine could paint a fair picture of understanding, but the question of why that was most crucial in Vye's quest.
From the brief, but inexplicable and unadulterated terror that flashed across his face, yes he did know.
The Crescent moon rose silently in the night sky.
Perhaps it was too soon to dredge up the nightmares, but isolated though they were, too far caught up in this false sense of peace, there would be nothing but hardship on the road Vye would tread.
Truthfully Lockes had their hesitations as it was.
The Harvest Moon which was once their most cherished of festivals was now far removed. Too deeply stained in blood for the silver crescent ramekin of Luna to be anything more than the cold indifference of a Reaper's scythe.
A weight nudged at his back and he shied away, staring at the vine. It pushed him beside Lockes and the other brought an arm around him in a loose hug.
A gesture he returned, albeit apprehensively.
"It's not a memory one would desire, and I loath to make you relive it. But I need to know how much you understand of the circumstances by which you were spared." Lockes bumped their nose against his, and a tendril slid out from somewhere beneath their foliage.
Vye hesitated, and for a moment realized just how small he was when confronted with what he was up against.
A diminutive creature struggling to survive, alive only by the good graces of those he'd met.
Once they left the hollows of the Alpione Circle, he would be plunged back into the cold indifference of the apathetic reality of his situation.
A thin vine extended to twine with that of the severed Shol's, and when they next opened his eyes, it was to smoke and fire.
Lockes didn't need to see much, and the vision was broken. They shuddered, the lingering touch of the memory they had briefly lived just as daunting as it had been then. Daunting not to themselves as Lockes, but to Vye.
The vision was more than just a theatrical, as one would perhaps choose to entertain by, nor was it a story to be told.
It was a life lived, not as oneself, but as another. To feel their fears, their faults, their hopes, and their pain. To the depth of the individual not your own. Privy to their every thought not as a bystander, but as the one thinking them.
"So you're aware."
Vye nodded solemnly, legs curling up to his chest and he huddled in the nest, "They told me."
Not that they needed to. Life did not come evenly to all creatures, and though Shols were all equals in partaking of the Verdance's gift, not all were bestowed with the same blessings.
Lockes themselves for instance could not bloom as many Shols did when sharing nectar. Such a process was much more elaborate for the dark Shol.
Meanwhile Vye's condition came as both a blessing and a curse. The floral menagerie--or lack thereof--and nigh universal compatibility.
"And it is of your desire alone to continue in this quest?"
A nod.
"Then you know what must be done."
Another nod.
Lockes sighed, a smile that didn't quite reach their eyes lingering, "Coty, our lives are freely pledged to the Verdance before our very conception, we follow the first Yggdrasill and walk in their footsteps--not by obligation, but because we desire it. And yet, if that is not what you desire, none would fault you. You are no lesser for it."
"It's--it's not that. I--" the Coty buried his head into his knees, "I don't hate the Verdance, and I really do want to do this! It's just--" Vye struggled to find the words to convey the contrasting desires that were his alone to contest.
So caught up was Vye, they noticed not that the Bluepine had sidled beside them, never rushing, never hurrying.
For the seeds of conflict had been sown deep, and Lockes would wait however long it may be until Vye was ready.
Frustrated tears blurred his vision as unbidden memorues surfaced. Memories of tender warmth yet whose existence but brought him endless torment and suffering.
At last the young Shol broke off into a wail, "I don't want to be alone!"
Bereft of his Bræmbel kin, Vye cried, the loss cutting deeper than ever. And the Bluepine let him.
They moved only to embrace him, brushing the foliage soothingly and tucking their face into the crook of their neck.
"There is nothing wrong with wishing to stay. None would fault you for it."
It was cruel of them, this the Bluepine knew.
Vye's mind was made, he would continue on this merry chase down a path that would be nothing but full of suffering. And to walk this arduous path, such conviction was but necessary.
Dangling this haven before them, where things so closely resembled his own Circle was a hurt that cut deeper than perhaps even the loss itself, for it was the warmth of home the young Shol's Heart desired above all else, and yet staying meant abandoning all that was sacrificed for him to be here now. Already the guilt of surviving tormented him. Yet by staying it would be a constant reminder, to consume his Heart more than it already had.
And yet Lockes would not have it any other way. Doubtlessly Vye desired an escape from his torment, and the Bluepine would be the one to offer it, to ensure that he had the choice, that the young Shol wouldn't be trapped by the weight that had been shackled to him.
It had to be Vye's choice to trudge on.
Reliving the memory Vye had entrusted them with, they knew that it was the selfsame desire of their valley borne brethren. The Shols of the Bræmbel Ring did not wish to shackle Vye with the obligation, but above all else it was their desire that he survive, for only he could do what they could not.
What happened after would be of Vye's own choice, but at the very least they wanted to ensure there to be hope. Hope that the dawn may yet rise on their darkest hour.
But this the Coty knew as well. And yet he would walk this path still.
Lockes sighed. Everything would have been made simple had Vye given up this impossible undertaking.
A pursuit with no end in sight.
Not that the severed Shol desired an endless night, but to raise the light of dawn was near impossible, and for one in such tender years to have chosen so adamantly to walk the troubled path.
Vye cried until there were no tears left to shed. Exhausted he lay snug against the Bluepine, worn by the weight he carried. The wails died down, and eventually the stifled hiccups and sniffles would too.
