Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Worlds Apart (Pt. 1)

"Syras, come back."

He turned to see a familiar face calling to him. Yet try as he might, never before could he recall having met another of such striking likeness.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Perspective Shift

It was difficult to discern depth, having lost the vision of his right eye.

An odd world it was. Despite the visible spectrum and the possession of a perfectly functional eye, everything seemed muted.

Dull and lifeless despite what should've been a vibrant colorful world.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Clover

Silas stared at the turtleneck his flatmate was sporting.

"Well? What do you think? It's going to be out on shelves come fall." Neiro grinned, giving a twirl to show off the back as well.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Tough Love

Working with Silas wasn't just difficult.

The man was cold, not for animosity, for to say so would mean he felt.

Strange Place: The Dead End

Speak not of this stop, the final destination. This stop here whom most pass by, for unwise is the one to linger at Death's Door. The place only tread upon, at the very end.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Blind Baker

Few were privy to such a sensitive matter.

And that suited him just fine. The fewer the better, in his humble opinion.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Chocolate Kisses

"Catch you all later!" Neiro waved before ducking out of the door and disappearing into the hall.

"Don't tarry." Silas barely glanced up from his screen. This particular case was a study venturing into generating Time anomalies.

He entwined his hands, eyes darting across the text of the screen.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Mistletoe

Esti wasn't sure what it was that drew her to him.

He was not kind by any measure, nor was he attractive, be it on the superficial level or beneath.

But lately it rose in the most inconvenient of moments.

Ever a candid speaker it had simply made for rather awkward encounters.

Silas raised a brow when he answered the door to find the redhead once more at his doorstep. She had been frequenting as of late. Not that she hadn't before, but from the slight tint of color on her cheeks and aversive eyes, Esti was all but sure that it told all what she kept mum, and made the visits all the more painfully conspicuous.

"... He's in his room." Silas gave a small nod of his head to indicate the all too familiar path.

She nodded, mumbling a quick thanks, and ducked around the tall man, darting straight for Neiro's room.

The Invalid watched her go. The two spent much Time together as of late. Still, he wouldn't begrudge Neiro the company of someone likely more relatable and uplifting than his own dour self.

Someone of the same age and the epithet of one full of youth and vigor. One who could do all the things he could not. And they shared similar interest besides. Be it a simple matter of crossing fields of interest, or something of a more emotional matter, it was only natural that the two were so drawn to one another.

Well. He wouldn't deny Neiro.

He pulled out his chair and settled in his corner, sipping away at a warm mug, the rapid fluctuation of his keys filling the quiet once more.

At the sound of the door, the albino whirled around with a grin, "Esti!"

A tight hug and he pulled away, holding her at arm's length, "How'd it go?"

It was too quiet and hasty for him to catch, and he blinked, "Come again?"

"I didn't ask." She muttered, shrugging helplessly and clearly uncomfortable. "This isn't really my thing."

It was odd to see her so shy. Rarely did she skirt around things and yet. And yet.

"Well, we can fallback to our original plan. The winter party will be next week. Maybe then?"

A nod. It was worth a shot.

It was been a perfect set up. Silas, as Neiro predicted, left the lively, but somewhat stifling main room to catch a breath of fresh air.

Frosty and nippy, but refreshing. It breathed new life into the man or so he claimed.

As he stood outside alone, breath coming in white puffs, she hesitated.

He seemed content to simply be.

And--she didn't want to ruin that.

Things were fine as they were now, right?

But a nudge from behind, and Neiro shot her a conspiring, yet encouraging smile she couldn't help but grin at. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and ignored the melodramatic puppy eyes of disappointment when she didn't.

Esti waves him off with a shake of her head, though unable to truly wipe the smile from her face.

Well. Being frank was just what she did best.

Except for perhaps being Esti.

She snorted at the cheesy joke, shaking her head again and stepping out.

Silas remained staring at the mesmerizing radiance of the starry sky, but he turned his head at her entrance. Not enough to face her, nor pull away from the expansive night before him.

He's sharp, as always. Though his body language went unchecked.

Good. It meant he was comfortable, not his usual unreadable mask and aloofness.

"How have the field assignments been?"

"Courtesy call, or interest?" She calls back before she could stop herself.

A low chuckle, "Courtesy."

Figures. She smiles, taking a place leaning on the rails beside him, staring at the snowcapped forest below them.

It wouldn't be Silas otherwise.

"... And interest."

Oh.

She tilts her head to peek up at him, cheeks warming when their eyes meet.

"I... I'm enjoying it. It's been amazing fun seeing all these sights and the tech we use." She turned away.

An understatement really. It was fascinating. Absolutely amazing to experience and witness firsthand. The awe of what their intricate technology could do--the scientific advancements--and the Earth so much more vast.

To be able to explore the far reaches of their world and beyond, and to simply not just be there, but be a part of it all.

She owed this man a debt she had no means of repaying.

Whereas he had given her the world, there was nothing he himself wanted that she could give.

"That's good. I worried that perhaps the work wouldn't be to your liking." A pause, "The tasks assigned are suitable and not a merry chase?" He gives a wry smile before falling back into the serene lull of watching the sky.

It was perhaps the most peaceful she had ever seen the gaunt man. Other than that one Time he had fallen asleep on the chaise on the veranda where they were now.

He turns to peer down at her in that moment and she realizes she had been staring too long, lost as she was in her thoughts.

"It's been nothing I couldn't manage. Although sometimes I wonder if one of these days it'll be more than I can handle."

"... I'm sure you'll make it work somehow. You're resourceful. Would that I could say the same of the fools you deem your colleagues. It's about Time they learned to see past pettiness and utilize the best in each individual. Too often we judge one by our own standards." He scowled, "... and in so doing, become our greatest adversary. There is nothing more frail than a lacking diversity."

That's right. They each had their own role to play. All of them.

"I... Thank you. For giving me a place here." She lowered her head to him.

"I didn't give you anything you didn't deserve. You earned it, and had you not, you would not be standing here now."

He studied her carefully, was it the cold that painted her with such a deep rosy blush? Her hand wound tight on her other arm. Esti had proven herself more than resilient. A little nip from Winter never bothered her before.

... Or perhaps Lokius had indeed spiked the punch bowl.

Knowing the eccentric scientist, it was probably the latter.

That man was a menace.

Still, he removed the long shawl from his neck, wrapping it around her.

The trembling of her hand as she reached up to touch the soft warmth of the fabric only reaffirming his belief that it be the cold that bothered her.

If she had intended to tell him before, she couldn't now. Not with him, dubiously stated, the happiest she had seen him.

Not after he had taken her under his wing in his own apathetic way. She couldn't trouble him so.

Silas was happy as is.

It took her a moment to realize he was saying something and she snapped to at the expectant silence.

"A-ah, sorry, I didn't catch that." She winced. Silas loathed wasted words. Particularly those of import that beared repeating.

A quirked brow, but he obliged, "It's not every day that we celebrate Christmas. Come, enjoy it while we can."

He extended a hand to her, and stricken by an inexplicable shyness, found herself without her voice. Gently her fingers brushed his palm before resting in the outstretched hand.

The hesitation was unlike the passionate and headstrong girl he knew, but if Silas was curious, he didn't ask.

Curiosity or not, it wasn't his business to pry. Moreover he had little doubt that Esti would not appreciate the gesture, good intentions or not. She was a very much independent individual, and didn't appreciate others prying.

He led her carefully around the ice coated planks, towards the warm glow of the evening festivities.

He paused suddenly, and she walked into him, stumbling back with a stuttered apology.

Esti groaned to herself. How clumsy.

What an exemplary display of her observation. A great show of her attentiveness and skills as a veteran advanced field researcher indeed.

But the stillness in him had her looking up. She followed his amused gaze up to a sharp green and prickly cluster of foliage with vivid red berries. The small ornament hung innocently by a dainty ribbon.

Oh.

Her eyes met his and he smiled, "Traditions are what they are."

And then he was too close, too sudden, and she felt a gentle pressure against her forehead.

Silas pulled away, still smiling, "We better rejoin the festivities, lest Neiro ponder our whereabouts and come searching."

"Y-yeah." Face still aflame when he guided her by the shoulders back into the warmth of the room.

And then he disappeared into the din, already making himself scarce.

Huh. Guess he'd had enough of socializing for one evening.

She stood there staring after him.

Until eager hands clasped both of her own. Neiro was practically glowing. "I didn't think he actually would!"

She blinked, opening her mouth wordlessly before catching herself. "Then why did you put it there? Don't think I don't know you did. It wasn't there when I went out."

"Because he wouldn't have left if he'd seen it. Besides, it seemed like a good 'scuse so I snuck it on."

Her face exploded with warmth and she coughed, "Thank you."

Neiro laughed and pulled her into the throng of the party and cheering.

She was lucky to have someone like Neiro, and she found herself caught up in his upbeat pace, laughing and smiling as they enjoyed the food and company.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Harvest Moon

Neiro hummed, a Cornucopia in his arms, laden with an assortment of Shyloris's favorites.

For it was the Harvest Moon, a Time of festivity, merriment, and warmth.

There were the fragile wild berries and foraged fungal clusters, guavas, persimmons, earthy roasted chestnuts, jujubes, steamed pumpkin, a square comb of wildflower honey, crisp and dipped in a luscious chocolate at one end.

But when pushed the door open, the grin he couldn't withhold vanished. There was a noticeably frosty chill in the air.

The brunette herself was staring listlessly at the grey clouds, but turned at his entrance. The smile was distracted, her neat little balls of yarn untouched.

Neiro pulled up a chair beside her, "Hey."

She returned a noncommittal greeting back.

"I brought something for you." he nudged the cornucopia towards her, and she took it. The smile then was warm, and the chill that perforated the room lifted. Just a little.

They talked for some Time, laughed as they shared their misadventures over the years.

And in the natural lull of conversation as they partook of  floral tea Silas had prepared, did Shyloris stare off towards the distance, "It's nice and warm here. Thank you for all you do for me."

"Hey. Don't thank me." Neiro shook his head, "Nothing was given to you. This was your efforts."

"You're too kind." her hands clenched in her lap, "It's nice to be together. With everyone."

She stared at the heavy clouds, "But... What of the Shol?"

It was the Harvest Moon.

The night the reaper's scythe descended.

Neiro's silence told volumes. And the brunette too fell into solemn silence.

"Are they still out there somewhere?"

Neiro shook his head slowly, "Who knows."

You.

She couldn't help but conclude somberly, and instead replied, "... I see." 

She stared at the clouded skies as the first snow fell, "Vye... He must be so lonely."

"He wont be alone. Zeal is with him."

"Do you think they'll find it. The Briar Patch I mean. You know don't you Neiro? Where it is. If it even exists."

Neiro never broke her gaze, her pleading eyes.

But he did heave a heavy sigh that told of the burden on his shoulders. "You know this is out of my hands. It's not within my jurisdiction to dictate another's path, nor change it."

"But are you not here? Have you not changed--changed, everything?" she gestured at the empty room, at all that had accumulated and built up to this point.

For the longest Time Neiro was silent, and just as she thought that perhaps he wouldn't deem her with an answer, he spoke, "You're a good person. Don't ever lose sight of that."

Neiro towered above her, but it wasn't an ominous presence. He had reverted back to the person whom she had first encountered. 

"I don't--"

He shushed her, a low calming tone that was almost melodic.

"I don't--understand."

"I know."

His arms encompassed her in a warmth she didn't know she had missed, and she cried. Cried for the voices that persisted in the gale, for those that she couldn't save, couldn't help.

"It's n-not fair."

"I know."

"Why?"

"..."

He stayed with her long past last light of the setting sun, his arms held her in a tender embrace just as he had when they first met.

The albino offered to stay the night, but she shook her head. She had taken up enough of his Time.

When he left, he gave her a last smile, and a strong, reassuring touch on her shoulder, "Don't worry. They're fighting the good fight.

He tilted her face up, his mismatched eyes peering into her own brown ones, "... and when someone does, it doesn't matter if they fail, or succeed. Because they did what no one else did. They tried."

"It'll be okay in the end. You'll see." 

And then he was gone.

She nestled into her alcove to watch over the snowfall. Just as she had always done. Always just watched.

And she cried to herself.

Because for all her complaints, for the childish tantrum she had thrown, it was her who did nothing.

She hadn't missed Neiro's tense shoulders when she had brought up the implication that it was within his means. 

She had put a burden over him.

The Numen himself, for all his claims of neutrality, wanted nothing more than to intervene. Limitless as he was in the aethor, ever omnipresent, it was within his means.

But it wasn't his right, as he said, to dictate the path of others. 

It was their own path to walk, for better or worse.

Not Neiro's to decide. 

For one to succeed, another has to fail. It was the balance of life. To thrive, another must perish.

And it weighed heavily on his mind.

Survival, not favoritism.

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.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Insight

Neiro sat down on the boulder, warmed by the morning sun, and forcibly relaxed his body.

A contented sigh left him as he felt the tension drain, and he but closed his eyes to take in the burbling of the nearby creek as he extended himself into the aether. The world slipped away from him and he was surrounded by the gentle void, the flow of Time once more swirling around him.

Never had he been involved so personally with the corporeal realm until Muspell has so forcibly summoned them.

The Numen chuckled to himself at the memory. Going so far as to tear into the very fabric of existence. Though it was well executed and contained to the Ophidian's credit. He would give the Muspell that much. To tear into the fabric of reality was a particularly dangerous and needless to say, reckless choice. How easily he could've torn himself asunder with that which was lost then.

And how easily he could've given up.

But he didn't.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Bitter Tears

She refused to meet their eyes.

Gone was her fiery and passionate personality, and the very air around her was heavy with defeat, deprived of the meager substance that had kept her head high and guarded her resolve for so long.

There was no anger left, no desire to continue fighting, struggling against the unrelenting face of adversity.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Bridesmaid

Shyloris smiled at the dark lens. It whirred and shuttered, momentarily pinging, to let them know the picture had been taken.

To her right, Silas relaxed, and wandered off towards the refreshment table. Neiro though, was already talking excitedly, eager for the picture.

It was a small gathering, the few of them, Esti, Ken, Silas, Neiro, Cheshire, Lokius, and of course herself, would spend the day enjoying Thanksgiving, together as it should be.

A numbered few though they were, were far too many for her. It had been a long Time since she had partook of anything festivities, or any other social event for that matter.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Last Door of Corridor 5354

What could possibly shake him--nay, her, so that he--bloody hell, she seemed to cower before that last door?

It stood there so innocently, not even truly locked like the rest of them had been.

Their stalwart companion who was as the flames themselves, such fiery passion and vigor that the very atmosphere nigh filled with color, with Life. That the selfsame person now shrunk away as if scorched by her own self and flame.

They would soon understand why it was to be one that could never be forgotten, no matter how many sheets one covered it with, not a multitude of rooms and doors, yellow tape, nor chains, bolts, and locks.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Successor (4 of 4)

Successor (4 of 4)

---

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

---

When all was said and done, it was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from her. And indeed, it had quite literally, been lifted from her.

The floors of the bathroom were vividly red, a stark contrast against the sterile white tiles.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Orientation

Esti stared, dumbfounded.

In kinder words, he had never seen so flawless a mask. In his own, Silas was a two-faced snake if he ever saw one.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Burgeon

It was a mere projection, nothing more.

What he desired, what is forever beyond reach.

Neiro took in the lush splendor, in the middle of which stood the Apex of the Academy.

Silas indulged himself a bit too much in the nonexistent world between, and it worried him. Though given the Invalid's physical state it wasn't difficult to empathize. Shaking his head he hoped that despite it all, Silas remained grounded to the reality.

But it was quite a sight to take in.

The scintillating light, and biting, almost harsh chill of the wind, amidst the dense greens.

In the middle Silas stood,  face tilted towards the surreal sunbeams filtering down, serene.

The plants coiled around him, growing at whim.

It was with a growing weight that Neiro took it in.

For it was what would not come to pass.

Silas desired tranquility. To live his remaining days in the peace and quiet of his home without the intrusion and irritation of society.

The other may not have voiced such thoughts, but his retreats said it all. The koi pond, the quiet serenity and utter calm of his projections.

The man wished for peace and quiet.

Neiro's admiration went beyond that though. To have been able to create such large scale projections even through an astral pod was something of great latent power and determination.

Few could conjure up more than their bare conscience, and here Silas was raising towering forests of ancient old-growth trees, and yet the Invalid did not fail to overlook the delicate curls of fern and dainty blossoms.

There were few things Silas could do outside of the projections of the Astral Pods, and even existing, keeping the fire burning, had become a trying task as of late.

Neiro stepped lightly into the clearing, the crackling of leaf litter underfoot announcing his presence.

Briefly he marveled at the meticulous detail of it all, and the odd transition from carpet to cool green blades underfoot, the occasionally daisy poking out of a clover patch.

Silas didn't turn, but he did move to sit. And gingerly, Neiro lowered himself to sit back to back with the Invalid.

"You're warm."

A smile flitted across his face, "I would hope so."

There was no playful banter. Just the distant song of feathered beasts, and rustling of the high wind through the overhead leaves.

In the pause he nearly drifted off, but a voice pulled him out of the comfortable grasp of sleep, 

"You're here in flesh then."

"I am."

The weight on his back grew, "I'm glad."

Neiro drifted off to sleep in the afternoon sun, enveloped by the lush retreat.

When he awoke it was to the sweet thick aroma of pumpkin spice.

It took a moment of recollection to remember he had fallen asleep in the living room. The scent of pine had clung long after Silas released his projection.

Yawning wide, he picked himself off the carpet and padded over to the kitchen where his flatmate doubtlessly was.

And as expected, the brunette was pulling out a tray from the oven, the contents of which roused him to full consciousness.

"Pumpkin spice cookies!" He beamed.

"Give them a Time to cool." The Invalid chided.

But Neiro had already popped a cookie off and was munching on the soft chewy treat, sighing contentedly.

Silas shook his head, a hand at his temple. But there was no illwill in his grumping, nor anything more than theatrics behind his actions.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Clashing Will

Neither had anticipated the meeting, but it was something to be expected. Something they both knew, to be long coming.

The Ophidian studied the fallen Seraph carefully.

Across the clearing, the other stretched languidly, combing a hand through his hair in a show of taming the unkempt bangs.

They fell back into his face and he sighed, shrugging to him.

But Muspell knew better than to drop his guard despite the brevity of the Seraph.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Snuffed

She awoke with a stifled cry caught in her throat, vision blurred with moisture.

Trembling arms wound tightly around herself in a feverish hug as she tried to break away from the voice that cried out to her, that sung a lonesome melody of mourning.

Shyloris in turn closed her eyes, whispering words of bleak comfort.

Yet another was dying.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Hearts Entertwined

Null-0 examined the ring closely, but made no move to take it from his outstretched hand, "This is the seal for your pearl?"

The Ophidian nodded, "In my blood is a mix of several draconics, most prominently among them, Quetzalcoatl, Ouroboros, Loong, and Amphisbaena. The pearl is the remnant of the Oriental blood."

With a wave of his hand, the ring seemed to come alive, the serpentine dragons slithered past one another and released the gems from their mouths.

From the brilliant jewels that seemed as if liquid, did they form a large solid pearl. And as quickly as they were, did they once again become mere rubies that the golden dragons each caught in their awaiting jaws.

His company seemed suitably entertained, after all the sight of a dragon's pearl was a rare treat. Such precious stones were the source of a great many Ophidian's power and few risked revealing the shells that played host, lest they be lost to others.

That and the Amphisbaena's ring which so zealously guarded it, was a relic bequest upon him by his line. It responded only to his draconic blood and none other.

"To think that your strength is contained not within the body but in a separate shell. An oddity for it to be of biological rather than alchemical origin."

"It is the same with your kind is it not? Your aether must be grounded somewhere. Something to anchor the self from Limbo, just as those of flesh are contained within their mortal bodies."

For a moment he worried that perhaps his question probed too far into the information so closely guarded by the Numen.

Eyeing him silently silently from where he lay on the bracket shroom, Null-0 carefully weighed the other before the scales of his judgement. Then, ever so slowly, nodded, eyes still never leaving him.

It was uncomfortable, but he bore with it for he knew that the demigod was likely peering through Time, weighing his character.

"An astute observation." He didn't elaborate, and Muspell didn't push him to.

The conversation was surprisingly casual, considering that the topic was such scant and sensitive knowledge that until now, had been privy only to their own kind.

As if sensing his thoughts, the Numen spoke up again, "There was never a need to become involved with worldly creatures. It would only have complicated matters."

"Of course." The ophidian nodded slowly, it was sound justification. A small smile spread across his face then, "And yet you entertain me now, sating a curiosity that your kind believes should best left alone, or better yet nonexistent."

"The marked incident in which Numens were scripted into lore, was a solemn one. Those worn fables you so coveted led many who sought to transcend Time astray, to waste away pursuing shadows they could not even discern." Null's eyes slipped shut, "Indeed, we are 'anchored' as you so eloquently put it."

"Where is your host?"

This Time he knew he had tread too far into the comfort zone.

Silvery wisps of hair framed skeptical eyes that were even now setting him on a scale, "Do you understand the weight of what you ask for?"

"I do."

"Heh." It was a humorless laugh, and the puppet of flesh turned to stare back at the heavens above them, "Does it so please you to partake of the forbidden fruit? Knowledge is naught without wisdom."

To ask for the thing which was possessed of the Numen's aether was, in essence, asking for their utmost trust, to reveal and put bare all that they were and surrendering their very life and making prone their seemingly omnipotent nature.

Muspell scootched closer to the other so that they were shoulder to shoulder, "As could be said the same of all I've asked of you."

"Curiosity is a dangerous thing, and from it is borne great feats, for better, and worse." Null-0 mused. With a sigh he carried on, "Yet you desire nothing but knowledge itself. The pursuit of knowledge is both borne of great wisdom---and foolishness. Temptation is beyond you except for that boundless thirst that even the uncovered sea, vast as it is, could not quench."

He hummed an acknowledgement and the Numen pushed himself up. Muspell followed suit.

Reaching out, the space distorted around the celestial's hand and Muspell watched mesmerized as he summoned forth his shell, but a single grain among infinite timelines, dimensions, and splits--

--and startled at a touch on his shoulder. The Ophidian jerked and stared in astonishment at the hand behind him as it tapped him again.

The Keeper of Time reached up to touch the small silver and gold rings adorning his friend's ears.

"You--you mean to say that this whole Time--" Muspell's eyes flew up, hands going up to the accessories, "I've been wearing them?"

Neiro nodded, "Only one of them hosts my aether, but yes, you have been."

"But you gave these to me a several full lunar turns ago!"

"That I did." came the same monotone, but it was notably softer this Time, barely above a murmur.

What strange expressions, and intonation. Never had the Numen seen Muspell display such unmasked zeal. And so he watches carefully, that he wouldn't miss the slightest in the Seed's idiosyncracies.

Now the Ophidian just stared, seemingly at a loss. But even that was entertaining, "When you gave them to me and told me to take care of them--"

"--I would put my Life in your hands, yes." the Numen nodded, before turning back to the stars above, as if they were but passing Time.

A moment longer did he spend staring, his heart swelling with warmth before engulfing the other in a tight hug, "You fool!"

"You would deem me a fool?"

Rather than foolishness, it was a mixture of apathy and utter boredom. An eternity and more, it was for this that the Numens would perish. Not that they perished willingly, but there was simply no reason not to. It was what would come to pass in the Continuum, and none of them saw reason fit to swim upstream, let alone change the river's path.

"The trust you place in me! Responsibilities such as these should not be so easily given, and unbeknownst no less!" he shook his head, scolding the other, "But still, thank you. That you would even think of putting so much faith in me---I'm flattered."

But he would spice it up a little. Though it was of no import to himself it seemed to matter a great deal to the Yggdrasill, and it served to entertain them both.

"It didn't please you?"

"It did." Muspell pulled away to take in the other's countenance, the same flat unreadable mask, "But it is still folly."

The Numen seemed oddly pleased, "Be that as it may, I would play the fool."

They were silent a while on their perch, simply gazing up at the stars.

"Do not think for a moment that my trust is so easily won over." Null hummed, "That being said, one such as yourself, would make a fine guardian. Even among Ophidians few are possessed of your gift. Whether it is folly or otherwise lies greatly with the character. "

"Then I would let it be within my abilities as far from foolishness as could be."

And he would.

---

He held Muspell's body, clutched protectively towards his own form. The Seraph across from them cackling with his prize, blood dripping freely from his hand.

"Null--" came a low and hoarse voice which cracked near the end. Forcing himself away from the sight, he stared down at the now bloodied and empty sockets of the Ophidian. It was a wretched sight, and one that his core trembled at in rage and indignation.

"I'm here, Muspell."

"Forget Loki, we must abscond. There's one last thing I would wish done."

Null jaw clenched, but a hand tugged insistently on his sleeve, barely mustering above a pained whisper, "Now, Null, the Heart's Song has been sung, I've not Time left!"

Tearing his eyes away from the fallen Seraph, he whisked the both of them back into the familiar hollow of the Ophidian's cove.

He laid Muspell on the floor, making to leave in search for some draught that would ease his suffering, but the Yggddrasill grasped him by the sleeve once more, "Don't leave."

"... your eyes."

"I need not what I will no longer use and I care not of the pain." A pathetic smile was all the other could offer, but he took solace in the relief on the Ophidian's visage when he didn't make to leave, "Please, Null, to me."

He knelt down beside the other and a shaky hand pushed something towards him. Null accepted the surprisingly heavy and warm weight, opening his palm to find a golden glint and glitter of precious stones winking up at him.

The Amphisbaena's Ring.

His eyes widened at the sight of the relic.

Muspell smiled weakly, "As it was bequeathed to me, do I now pass it to you."

"Muspell--" Null trailed off.

A small laugh interrupted with abrupt coughing, breathing labored, "I know it unfair of me to so pointedly ask at this grim hour. But I beg of you, Aversatio must not be allowed to happen again. Please--don't let it come to pass. Loki plans on invoking it, he--"

"Muspell!" the rest was cut off by Null's own sharp voice.

"Was I a good friend, Neiro?"

The sudden change took the Numen off guard, "Neiro?"

"When I saw you by yourself, so lonely and cold, I couldn't help but approach. I hope--" a fit of coughs overtook him, and Null urged him to rest, but he shook his head, "Neiro, it's a fitting name is it not? Null-0, Null-zero, Neiro, I've longed to call you by that name. Would you not take it on?"

"With honor."

"Look at me." The Ophidian chuckled, turning his head away and averting his now blind stare away, "Though I've long seen this day coming, still I grow sentimental in my last moments, holding on so dearly to the last threads of life."

Muspell turned towards him, and Null was surprised by how accurately the empty sockets seemed to find his own, "I regret none of it."

"Live a little Neiro, there are so many more you have yet to meet, and I am but one of them."

"None of them will be you."

"Wont you grace them with your light?" he reached into his coat and plucked a small pouch out from their depths, pushing that too towards the Numen.

Even before he opened it, he knew what they were, by the familiar resonance of aether, "But the seraph--"

"--took the false ring. This is the true shell you gave me. Live on, Neiro."

A chuckle, and he spoke softly, warm and tender, "I'm sorry Neiro, I lied. I do wish for mine eyes, that I could glimpse my dear friend one last Time. Yet even that I would give, for every precious second gained with you by my side in these last moments."

There were no tears, not that the Ophidian had eyes to shed them. But he needn't more than Muspell's voice to know he was crying.

The Heart's Song rose in a lonesome wail.

The Ophidian smiled and leaned up one last Time, supported by the Numen's arm, and murmured, the whisper lost in the wind to all but the one he intended it for.

Clawed hands dug into the Numen's arm desperately, hoping to convey all he could not. There was still so much he wanted, and needed, to say but which never seemed the right Time for it.

And then the last of his strength was spent.

The grip on his sleeve slackened, as did the Ophidian in his arms.

Jaw clenched, Neiro gently pressed his forehead against that of the serpent's, "I'm sorry, Muspell."

He laid the Seed's body back against the floor, standing up with an unfamiliar weight he could neither identify nor remove. And somehow he didn't want to. Somehow it felt like Muspell was closer that way, yet all the farther away.

In his hands was the Amphisbaena's Ring, clutched tightly in his grasp. Already he could feel Muspell's aether dissipating.

With a heavy heart, he lifted the golden ring, the dragons glinting up at him.

Nigh all of the blood that coated his hands belonged to Muspell and were dense with his aether.

Maybe--

Drawing the incantation in the air, the blood rose and formed an encircling series of runes around the ring, and slowly the dragons uncoiled, tense as they regarded him with skepticism. They could sense his foreign aether beneath that of their master's line, and they snarled at him.

Pulling forth the gold ring within the depths of the pouch, he held them close with withheld breath before offering them up to the Amphisbaena.

For a moment he held his breath, should the dragons reject his offering, it may well destroy itself, and with it the last of Muspell's bound Aether.

With the remnants of the Ophidian's blood, the ring reluctantly accepted the offering and his shell.

Neiro watched the deep red and gold marble into milky pearl, imbuing his own aether into it. Along with it he could sense the familiar warmth of Muspell's within, pulsing softly as if it were still alive.

But no sooner had the shell fully fused, did the serpentine dragons shudder and whisk by in a flash of gold. Their sudden sharp slither as they intertwined sending out a flash, and when it was done the ring was locked as it as before, still and unmoving.

But it had suceeded. And within came a soft pulse of their mingling aether, sealed away from the outside world and out of mortal reach, to remain existent in its own pocket of existence.

Neiro clutched the golden ring to his breast, in it was a familiar and faint, but nonetheless existent presence of Muspell's aether contained for as long as the ring itself would be. One that was already becoming nostalgic.

The puppet placed the oddly warm ring carefully into the pouch and pocketed it, kneeling beside Muspell once more.

He took in the serene face, a stark contrast with the blood and gore that he had so suffered, before bowing his head low in reverence and speaking softly, "Just as your Life is now mine, is mine now your's."

For however long his existence stretched, would he guard the both of them and do what he had failed to do that day.

And should he fail him again--

Your Life is mine as mine is now your's.

--he would perish and meet his dear friend over the stars.

This would be his promise, their Life forged into one, that he would be ever bound to protect.