Welcome to Gaia! ::

"He said, "Be right back," and the calendar burst out laughing." Xyla stretched languidly, her spine curving elegantly as her tail curled above her back.

Sharp golden eyes settled on the Sovereign. "Riddle me this. What grows larger the longer it's gone, vanishes the moment it returns, and makes everyone smile when it disappears?"

The Mauvian watched him intently, eyes alight with amusement, the corner of her lips tugged into that familiar Cheshire-like smile.

“Hmm…” Xyla weighed his answer against the weight of the one she was seeking. It was a decent guess, she supposed. “Not quite.”

In a fluid motion, she moved from her perch on Zinkenite’s chair to a place on his desk beside a blue box wrapped carefully with a silver ribbon. “A friend’s absence,” she replied quietly, leaning into his open hand affectionately.

“There was a cake you know,” her voice became a gentle purr. “It was quite pretty. I tucked it away in my subspace for your return. Thought I was being clever.” Indeed, she had been, for a while at least until it seemed to have turned into a fossil encased in plastic, but at least there wasn’t mold.

“Alas, magic has its limits, and expecting confectionery to survive your absence was asking rather a lot of it.” Xyla jested, though the careful jab might have had a bit more claw than intended.

She looked up to catch his reaction, his shift in expression. The moment of realization of who they were from since the Succubus did not wish for her to tell Zinkenite she had been by.

The large Mauvian hummed thoughtfully, recounting each visitor she had seen. "Some officers... though not many." She confirmed with a small nod. "No notes on why they came, and all with paper turned away." No truer words as his desk was in fact devoid of any stack of tasks awaiting his attention.

"One visitor did come. Twice. Thrice. On the last though, the door did not open." The senshi stayed in the hallway, knowing he would not answer should she knock.

Xyla blinked, confused by his question because the answer, to her, was most obvious. She watched him closely, brows near imperceptibly pulled together, with a gaze not set on anything in the room.

The end of her tail swayed off the edge of his desk.

Carefully, Xyla rose onto her hind legs, soft front paws finding his shoulders for balance until their eyes were level. “Because you have a heart,” she said as though explaining why rain fell or stars burned. “And hearts insist on making simple things wonderfully inconvenient. They turn simple roads into mazes and make us stand at crossroads long after the answer has arrived.”

She brushed her cheek against his, then added, “And because you care. If you did not, then the answer would have come quickly.”

“The path is clear,” Xyla mused. “It is simply covered by all the things you wish were different.”

Xyla’s ears twitched as she sat back down on his desk. Her tail curled around and over her front paws, her smile softening as she looked up at Zinkenite.

“Mm. Perhaps you will. Paths often look most dangerous to those who intend no harm,” she admitted with a small rise and fall of her shoulders. “But I do not think your vision is clouded by danger.”

“Only by fear.” Golden eyes blinked slowly.

“And fear has a peculiar habit of convincing us that standing still is somehow safer. While one may regret a step taken.” Xyla paused to consider her words carefully. “One almost always regrets the step forever imagined.”

“Doing nothing is a curious thing,” she purred. “It disguises itself as safety, yet so often becomes the cruelest choice of all.”

Xyla studied him for a long moment before giving a single nod.

“I don’t know where she is, or how long it will take to find her.” Her whiskers twitched. “It could be an hour… it could be longer.”

She leaned forward just enough to bump his hand lightly with her forehead.

“But that means you have a job of your own.” Xyla fixed him with the sort of unblinking stare only a cat could manage.

“Wait.”

The single word lingered.

“I don’t know where she is, or how long it will take to find her.” Her whiskers twitched. “It could be an hour… it could be longer.”

She leaned forward just enough to bump his hand lightly with her forehead.

“But that means you have a job of your own.” Xyla fixed him with the sort of unblinking stare only a cat could manage.

“Wait.”

The single word lingered.

“I promise I’ll look, but not how long the search will take. So don’t decide she’s not coming simply because the sun has moved across the sky. It would be a shame if she found only an empty place waiting for her.”

Her ears lowered just a fraction. The playfulness subsided into something quieter, more earnest.

“Surely you know my words were not meant to offend,” Xyla murmured. “Only to keep you from burying an important tomorrow beneath a mountain of unimportant todays.”

Her whiskers twitched with the faintest smile.

“There is little comfort to be found in work chosen only because it asks less of the heart.”

With a lazy flick of her tail, Xyla turned toward the edge of the desk.

“You have already made the hardest choice. Do not make it harder still by living it a hundred times in your thoughts before it ever comes to pass.” Glancing over her shoulder, Xyla winked. “Reality deserves the chance to surprise you.”

She hopped lightly from the desk and moved towards the door. “I shall leave you to your preparations.”