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. 

Snippets and Stories: (BP) A Small Comfort

Vye was elsewhere with the Bluepine, yet again.

It couldn't be helped. Similar to how an umbilical cord in placental mammals would siphon nutrients to the growing young, so too did the vines nourish Vye.

Snippets and Stories: (BP) Seer's Fog

They awoke not to the solar light and warmth, but to a cold darkness that pierced deep into their body.

The visions they had seen in slumber lurked in the corner of their mind. So hauntingly vivid and far too real.

It nagged at them. Just as one knew there was something of importance to remember, yet could not recall.

But whatever grasp they had, was already fading.

The Briar Patch (BP) Ch. 11 - The Enigmas (Pt. 2)

This one was easy, Zeal grinned, he'd have it open in no Time.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

No amount of poking and prodding, twisting and pulling, would undo the box.

Nothing would bloody give, and the mercenary was almost convinced it was a mere wooden block with carvings and a couple decorations strewn on its surface.

Vye tried as well, but to no avail, and the Bluepine chortled to themselves, throwing the occasional encouragement.

Finally, late past the Sun's descent, did they pass it back to the severed Shol.

Lockes barely spared the box a glance, from where they were bathing in the warmth of the fire, before snickering, "Maybe you should try being warmer if you want it to open up to you."

That was just in poor taste. Having spent an entire evening fraying his nerves with the bloody thing, Zeal snapped out, "It's a wooden contraption."

He snorted in exasperation, tossing it to Vye and storming off. The Bluepine stared after him calmly.

Even Vye seemed a little ruffled and was sulking by the fire, eyeing the puzzle in his hands.

But Lockes, unperturbed, simply chuckled, "Keep at it, boys." and went back to licking a particularly messy tangle of plumes.

"Bloody Shol." Zeal grumbled under his breath, pacing the length of the room before sighing and settling beside Vye.

Small grabby hands reached for him and he let the young Shol have his way, clambering into his lap where he then went about inspecting the box, only to find it just the same as all the countless Times before.

It was as Vye turned it over in his hands by the fire, and he heard the creaking, that it clicked.

"Maybe you should try being warmer if you want it to open up to you."

That bloody shol.

Zeal snarled and snatched the Enigma and thrust it towards the crackling flames in the pit, ignoring Vye's alarm.

"Zeal don't!" Vye didn't know much of Sholian culture, but it wasn't difficult to tell how lovingly each piece was crafted, and their priceless value as both a wealth of knowledge and sentimental piece. He tugged at the Reaper in dismay, but to Vye's surprise Lockes simply stared on in interest, seemingly indifferent to the commotion and distress.

And then there was a long creak and a sharp clacking sound, and they watched in awed silence as the oddly patterned gears overlaying the box shifted.

With a slow realization, Zeal realized the gear with the tree resembled... the world?

The voices of both Lockes and Vye echoed in his ear.

In Sholian lore, the Yggdrasill is the one from which all came, and around the first Fairy Ring, from which he arose did a plethora of green burgeon. Amongst them the daunting bramble that would forever protect first Ring, the Briar Patch.

The Yggdrasill, from which all arose, meant the world to the Shols. The picks were not simply the teeth of a gear as he presumed, they were thorns, the fine branches of the tree entwining along the edges of the gear, was bramble.

The world is turning.

They waited, and the decorative hourglass slowly swiveled, so that the sand once below, now sat above.

"Time is... up."

Had that been intentional? From the sly smile the severed Shol was sporting, yes, yes it had been.

A finger traced the hourglass, before with sudden confidence, he grasped the wooden piece and pressed down.

Would've, but the thing didn't budge.

"You must be joking." Zeal growled, contemplating flinging the Enigma into the hearty fire with all due seriousness this Time.

There was a jovial laugh, a sharp contrast from Zeal's sour mood, "Come now Reaper, have some patience! You're almost there!"

Zeal begged to differ. He had spent 6 hours worth of patience on this bloody contraption.

Ohhh---They were so close! There was but one mechanism left, and the Bluepine watched with bated breath, a giddy and child-like grin stretching cheek to cheek.

But.

This was a Reaper, not a Shol, and Lockes hesitated. Would a Reaper be able to read the final chapter?

Any Shol would've been able to unlock this box in a Heartseed.

Well, most Shols anyhow. The severed gave a sidelong glance at Vye who remained blissfully ignorant of the fact.

The Enigmas were reserved for Shols who had reached maturation. Vye was still far too young to understand and truly participate.

Yet the Times had changed, and circumstances withstanding, the Bluepine would see that the torch holding all they knew, would be passed unto the young Coty, that it too may light his way. For there was not the luxury of Time as they had in the past to take one's Time with self discovery and maturation. Unfortunate that Vye could not experience the same moment of joy that the wonder and joy the Shols before him had, but such was the Times.

Zeal stared hard at the box. Something about all this seemed oddly familiar.

And then it struck him.

Bloody. Shols. How he despised their inconvenient roundabout ways of riddles and mischief.

The Bluepine had given them the answer long ago.

The polished surface of the gear depicting the Earth rotated before his eyes. Beside it, the needle of a compass now pointed accusingly at the other gear.

For the Earth that's ever turning. 

His dark eyes traveled to the mechanism triggered.

... and we can but mark its passing.

Suddenly, and with startling finality, the hourglass clicked, a subtle shift in its rotation. And kept clicking, accompanied by a minute shift each Time.

The hourglass is turned, And the sands of Time now fall.

Zeal started as the countdown began.

Time's up. They had until the hourglass turned a full circle.

His mind raced, searching for clues.

Yet never must we let, The panic to appall. 

Letting out a slow breath, he turned to the Bluepine, "Lockes. What was that poem you recited earlier?"

The dark Shol perked at their name, rousing from their thoughts. They stared at him, and with a small smile, began the recitation.

Like the rise of golden sun, And the moon that's too soon setting.

If his suspicions were correct.... Carefully he counted the teeth of the gear, starting from where the compass's point had been indicating, but going counterclockwise. Had almost gone clockwise, as most temporal mechanisms operated in the sanctuaries--but this was no city district.

11 sharp... 3 blunt... 2 missing... For the Earth that's ever turning.

3 sharp... 2 blunt... 2 missing And we can but mark its passing.

1 sharp... 1 blunt... 1 missing... 2 blunt... 1 missing... 3 blunt... 1 missing... 4 blunt... The hourglass is turned, And the sands of Time now fall. Yet never must we let, The panic to appall.

It all matched.

The thorns and teeth of the gear he had assumed to have been jagged in poor craftsmanship, were in fact a code. Where there were empty spaces, there were stops, two indicated a break and the start of a new sentence. The quantity of large teeth following indicated the stanza, while the smaller teeth, a line within the verse. If there were consecutive lines of the same stanza, it was indicated by a break (missing tooth), and then a blunt.

And so it continued.

The story here began much the same as the poem had, but soon strewn the recited piece in a darker light.

For the Earth that's ever turning. And we can but mark its passing. 

The hourglass is turned, And the sands of Time now fall. Yet never must we let, The panic to appall.  

No honor to be gained, Nor name of eternal fame. For our progeny to come, 

Yet nothing of the future, Bestowed with precious lore, That can only be but messy.  

To you of now do I beseech, That which we all should already know.

Of a never ending quest to be, Because only from within, Do we find what truly we need. 

Yet by all must we remember, We are equal, all the same. That one day we too will be but memories, To guide you--and the world you mold.  

And return to Earth we must, Like the rise of golden sun, In all its blazen glory. 

For we have seen our last. Of a forest we wont know. That we hope will one day grow.    

Zeal finished, and was at a loss. The hourglass had almost finished its full circle.

Vye had fallen into a despondent silence, staring at the Enigma.

It wasn't as if he hadn't witnessed the Circle of Life. How, when the Time had come, a Shol would pick out a location of fond attachment--where could be found sunbathing most, a favored nook, or a soft patch in the shade, and the like.

They would rest there, surrounded by all they so cherished and loved, and doze off in a final slumber. To return to the Earth and become one, a forest new, that they could never know.

It was the last farewell, the final parting gift of a Shol, to leave unto the Circle the flora they had so cultivated the span of their natural lives.

That they too may taste the fruits and nectar, and remember that which once was, and still is.

To extend to their progeny a greater abundance wherever they inhabited, extending the Verdance and returning to their predecessor.

A distant memory flitted behind glazed eyes.

Of the meek morning sun, filtering between tender leaves, to a soft patch of blackberry sitting inconspicuously at the base of the old, groaning, oak. And he could almost still see the Shol curled up against the gnarled knotted roots. Sometimes, he swore he could.

But that was then, and this was now. The hourglass was ticking still.

And suddenly, he knew what needed to be done.

"What are you--"

Reaching from where he was, hanging on Zeal's shoulder, Vye pointed at the gears, "Zeal, the hourglass is turning towards the right, and it's making the sun set."

His brow quirked and he stared at the Enigma.

"Clever little Coty." Lockes whispered, smiling behind their hand. Finally the pieces were falling into place.

The hourglass was turning clockwise, as was typical of sundial instruments that marked the passing of Time. Yet by doing so it turned the compass counterclockwise, thus allowing the sun to travel in its great arc from East to West, and in the same breath, turned the final gear, the Yggdrasill, such that it was read as it should be--in the clockwise direction. In the correct passage of Time.

"Curl your fingers and tap it with your palm when and where the sun 'sets'." Vye made the gesture, "It's a sign we make to symbolize Life, it's how we greet Coties that nudge through the Fairy Ring, and how we send off those who become the forest."

Zeal looked to have some doubts. If Vye was wrong, Time would be up, likely resetting the mechanisms.

But he gave his silent consent, mimicking the gesture, and Vye nodded his approval.

And they waited. Tick by tick, until the carved sun, descended behind the carved bramble.

With a firm smack, a sharp clacking sound reverberated in the box, and the two turned to look at one another.

They tried the lid, and it came off.

The den exploded with cheers and smiles as Vye eagerly turned the lid over to gaze at the inner workings of the Enigma that had so confounded them, and began clamoring at once, "Zeal it was a metal bar! The heat made it expand and it displaced this... is magnetic! Look, there's a small magnetic ball in here that was keeping the lid from budging... "

The Reaper, unlike his curious charge, was content to lay back, more relieved than anything else. Though there was a certain smugness to his droopy gaze, the Bluepine noted. A small flicker of pride and accomplishment.

It was a simple, but an elegant design that told much of Shols.

And they had figured it out.

How strange Life could be. That a Reaper should find such amusement and triumph in solving a Sholian contraption, one of many a Shol would have to overcome in their rite of passage.

The long forgotten sands of the hourglass on the low table had finally finished flowing, and Lockes plucked it up, holding up a hand to hide the genuine smile that threatened to stretch cheek to cheek.

The scene of the two by the fire was almost one they found endearing.

But the trial was now over, and though they were reluctant to break the cheer, the Bluepine would impress upon them its significance.

"Impressive, the both of you!" They laughed, and joined the two by the firelight, "And now, you will each receive your own Time."

At this, Zeal looked to Vye for an explanation, but the young Shol seemed just as lost as he was.

The Briar Patch (BP) Ch. 11 - The Enigmas (Pt. 1)

There was nothing to do.

Just what had Lockes done in all their years of solitary survival? It was maddening. Long had Zeal learned patience, endurance, to persist in the most grueling spit of earth, or wait for the prey, still as death even as as others were drove to brashness by the itching of anticipation, like the bite of a summer mosquito.

Yet never before had he been left in such idleness as this. Where there was no chase to be had. Naught of peril nor treacherous terrain. There was no purpose, other than the slow healing of his wounds.

Even the pain would've been a blessing, for it meant a distraction.

Poem: Enigmas

A recitation that preludes every Shol's initiation into the Enigmas so enamored by the children of the Verdance. This one in particular was transcribed by Zeal, whose dedication and efforts have seen many such significant pieces persist the test of Time.

The hourglass is turned,
And the sands of Time now fall.
Yet never must we let,
The panic to apall. 

With clearer minds we seek
The truth hidden in each seed.
Because only from within,
Do we find what truly we need. 

Though Time ever goes,
and we can but mark its passing.
Like the rise of golden sun,
And the moon that's too soon setting. 

So in each of these Enigmas,
Bestowed with precious lore.
For our progeny to come,
And a gift that's much, much, more. 

To tell what we cannot,
For once the future 's past.
And return to Earth we must,
For we have seen our last. 

Yet by all must we remember,
That never is it the end.
For to raise the prismatic arc.
To the future we must send. 

Yet nothing of the future,
Can be claimed with all due certainty,
And heavy is the duty,
And the mounting pressure plenty.  

To the Shols we now sow,
That we hope will one day grow.
To sturdy oaks and pines.
Of a forest we wont know. 

To you of now do I beseech,
To carry on a perpetual legacy,
Of a never ending quest to be,
That can only be but messy. 

No honor to be gained,
Nor name of eternal fame.
For though we bear the flora unique,
We are equal, all the same. 

And now you know the truth,
In all its blazen glory.
For the Earth that's ever turning,
And the stars of endless story. 

But I digress, for I've said too much,
The story has since been told.
And now I leave you stories more,
To guide you--and the world you mold. 

With heavy Heart now does this verse draw to a close,
But it's not the end--at least, not really. 

For in riddles have we ever told,
The Enigma we all should already know. 

That one day we too will be but memories,
Yet ever live on in our endless stories.

Hemlockes
Pillar of the Alpione Ring

 

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.