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In Sumeru, people do not dream. Cyno had learned this fact in childhood, diligently writing what was being preached alongside his classmates, staining the side of his palm black with ink as his pen flew across the page. His parents would watch him study the pages at night, flickering alive a candle that would serve as Cyno’s evening’s sun. The absence of dreaming allows us to be further rooted in reality. This ability is one our society takes pride in. It increases our practicality, and bases our desires on achievable goals.
His childhood days flipped by on repeat; wake, study, eat, sleep; and Cyno discovered himself to be a high achiever, a renowned scholar, a respected leader, and all-in-all a successful man.
He never discovered himself a dreamer.
There were nights, however, after his schooling was completed, after people started calling him General Mahamatra, where lucky assignments landed him in the Avidya Forest. These trips usually concluded with Cyno counting his breaths next to Tighnari, his oldest childhood friend. These rare days frequently found Cyno fidgeting underneath the guise of “no, I don’t have a place to stay,” which leads to Tighnari offering, no intent behind his words, “come stay with me, Cyno, if only just for now.”
When his duties allow him to cross paths with Tighnari, Cyno always ends up taking the trip. This time around, it is due to a mutation found in a handful of Jadeplume Terrorshrooms, a changing of DNA that allows them to survive neck injuries that leave their spinal cord exposed. Cyno works alongside Tighnari and his rangers, disposing of every creature showing signs of the abnormality.
With the moon streaming softly over a well-worn blanket, Cyno’s fingers rubbing along the frayed edges, he allows himself the indulgence of wonder, and hope. Hope for an interactive world where they would be sleeping together as lovers, where Tighnari would extend his usual bedside invitation for reasons other than courtesy. Hope for an interactive world where Cyno would have the courage to let go of the blanket and reach for Tighnari’s hand. Would Tighnari hold him back? Would he wake up, and would he flash his snaggletooth smile? The two had been best friends since childhood, Tighnari’s special smile isn’t a rare sight anymore; but on a deeper level, Cyno craves. He scarcely allows himself to entertain the possibility during the daytime, instead choosing to immerse himself further in his duties. But now, after the ash of battle, the adrenaline of a fight fought and a challenge won, in such proximity to his wonder… If Cyno can’t have, then he wants to dream.
/////
Cyno is used to his sleep getting interrupted. It’s a common phenomenon shared by Tighnari, who is much more graceful about accepting the disturbance. Cyno has bemoaned the experience far too often to his friend, who frequently rolls his eyes at Cyno’s dramatics.
Cyno always wakes up naturally when sleeping over at Tighnari’s.
This morning, Cyno opens his eyes to an already-lit sun, greeting him softly through the foggy glass of Tighnari’s bedroom window. A group of three cacti rest on Tighnari’s windowsill; gifts from the desert, carefully selected by Cyno years ago for a holiday gift. If Cyno tilts his head a few inches down, he can spot the poetry books that Tighnari shoves under his bookshelf. Cyno teases him about it, and Tighnari makes a dramatic show about stashing the flimsy collections away from sight, but they’re always just visible enough for Cyno to find them.
Cyno relaxes his shoulders and settles into Tighnari’s bed. If he focuses, he can hear the other man moving things around in his kitchen, glassware clinking against each other. Cyno runs his fingers over Tighnari’s blanket, hand-quilted by his pupil Collei years ago, threads splitting through the fabric with its age. There’s nothing softer.
After dozing for a while, Cyno finally hears Tighnari open his bedroom door. He cracks an eye open and sees Tighnari coming in with a steaming mug. From experience, Cyno knows what this mug holds; coffee, an import from Fontaine, made precisely with three spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk. It’s Cyno’s order whenever he visits. Tighnari’s only asked for it once.
“Do my eyes deceive me?” Cyno croaks, pulling himself up to rest on his elbows. “Is that the supreme ruler of the Avidya Forest, the greatest Forest Watcher to ever protect Sumeru’s natural beauty, the effervescent being who protects under sunlight and moonshine alike, the--”
“Say another word, Cyno, and the coffee cup might just fall out of my hand,” Tighnari says, monotone and steady. He holds out the cup and Cyno grasps it, pinky touching Tighnari’s palm before Tighnari pulls away.
Tighnari sits at the edge of the bed. Cyno takes his first sip and watches as Tighnari leans down to lace up his boots. Tighnari’s back is curved, his hair hanging low and covering his face, and Cyno holds his cup firm with one hand so that his other can hold Tighnari’s hair out of his way.
“Early patrol today?” Cyno asks.
Tighnari hums in affirmative. “The new batch of recruits just started this week. Today they’re learning the forest layout.”
“Ah, so you’re going to ditch them and let them get lost?” Cyno jokes.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, actually,” Tighnari laughs. “They’ll memorize the layout quicker that way. But I’ll be there to guide them when they make the inevitable mistakes.”
“Remember when Collei started out, and she tripped into one of your boar traps?”
“I got her out,” Tighnari defends. “And she hasn’t fallen into another one, since.”
“Touché,” Cyno replies. “She’ll be with you today, I’m assuming?”
“Yeah, she’s due here anytime now, actually,” Tighnari says, straightening his back out and looking out the window. “Said she wanted some caffeine before braving the newbies.”
“Smart girl,” Cyno says. “She got that from me.”
“I doubt that’s true,” Tighnari rebuffs, smiling softly at Cyno. The morning sun reflects off of his green eyes and the twinkling reflection is all Cyno can focus on.
Cyno swallows. “Hey, Tighnari, I--”
“Are you staying today?” Tighnari asks. Cyno watches him, sees Tighnari’s teeth biting down on his lip.
“I’ve got business to take care of in Sumeru City,” Cyno breathes out, lowering his eyes. “Dori’s passing by, I’ve arranged a ride with her.”
“Ah,” Tighnari accepts, nodding his head. “Very well. Any idea when I’ll be seeing you again?”
“Not soon enough,” Cyno replies, and he tries to hide the longing he feels by inflicting some sarcasm into his voice. Tighnari’s still nodding his head. “There are tensions in the city with certain groups not accepting Kusanali as Lord. Al-Haitham called a meeting. Knowing him, I’ll be dead from boredom ten minutes into him talking, and he won’t discover my corpse until he finally shuts up months later.”
“I’d make sure to bury you here in the forest, far away from him,” Tighnari jokes, brushing a strand of hair out of Cyno’s face.
“You’d have to exclude him from the funeral, as well,” Cyno pouts, playing along. “Better yet, invite him to a fake funeral somewhere far away, at the same time as the real one. Send him to the desert. Let my assistants get the chance to force him into asinine conversations.”
“I don’t have the heart to do that to your assistants,” Tighnari says, eyes mischievous. One of his ears tilts, and the movement catches Cyno’s eyes.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Someone’s here,” Tighnari comments absent-mindedly, turning his body towards the sound. “Dori. She’s on her caravan, traveling alone.”
“Oh,” Cyno breathes. “I didn’t realize she would be getting here so early.”
Tighnari looks down upon Cyno, as godly beings are likely to do with their subjects, and smiles. “Get your things ready. I’m going to greet her.”
Cyno watches as Tighnari leaves. Tighnari’s witty voice mixes nicely with Dori’s booming one, and as Cyno reaches the bottom of his cup, he figures it’s about time to assimilate into society. He stretches his limbs, gives Tighnari’s blanket one last pat, and then places his bare feet on the cold stone floor, making his way towards society.
/////
“Have you, perhaps, heard of any elixirs that induce a dream?” Cyno nonchalantly asks Dori on the way home, a hand idly on his polearm as they start the steep climb to Sumeru City.
Dori stills. Cyno continues walking a few paces before noticing, then turns his head to blink at her. Her nose is scrunched, arms folded into each other.
“Is this for one of your ‘investigations'?” Dori asks, clicking her tongue. “Remember how we’ve talked about friend-to-friend confidentiality? You can’t arrest me for anything I say.”
“I’m not going to arrest you,” Cyno frowns. “You do know that’s not what I do, correct?”
“Arrest, detain for the eminent future, make disappear forever, it’s all the same to me,” Dori shrugs, before continuing forward at a leisurely pace. “You’re not as scary as Al-Haitham, and I trust your heart, but that doesn’t make you not General Mahamatra.”
“Don’t compare me to Al-Haitham,” Cyno bemoans. He watches as Dori trips over a grip of tumbleweeds, grumbling to herself as she throws out her arms for balance. “But the dreams, Dori. Do you know of any concoction to induce them?”
“Who’s asking?” Dori huffs. “You? Or General Mahamatra?”
“Me,” Cyno replies firmly. “I’d like to know.”
“That’s quite unbecoming of you,” Dori grins. “Some knowledge is confidential for a reason, isn’t that the principle you defend?”
“I simply strive to keep knowledge pure, and to protect our people from knowledge that would hurt them.”
“What is your intention right now? Cyno, what knowledge would you gain from a dream that you can’t gain in reality? Perhaps the knowledge you seek is about to hurt you.”
“Let’s disregard that point for a moment,” Cyno brushes off. Dori laughs beside him. “What can you tell me?”
“About your dream elixir?” Dori clicks her tongue, then falls silent for a moment. “Hypothetically, I could get a dream elixir in your hands. It comes with a catch, though.”
“Yes, yes, five million mora, I understand,” Cyno immediately says, nodding his head sagely. The ears sewn into his outfit swing about in his periphery.
“Well, yes, that, but another catch too,” Dori replies. “In Fontaine, elixirs that induce dreams are created for a certain type of reconciliation therapy. You know how they’re big on conflict resolution.”
“I’m aware.”
“Maybe you and Al-Haitham could learn something from Fontainian culture,” Dori snickers.
“I wasn’t aware Al-Haitham had the ability to learn,” Cyno quips.
Dori laughs harder. “Okay, yes, a dream-inducing elixir does exist. And it will cost you mora to get. The special part of it is, well, that it requires two people for it to work.”
“Right. You supply it, I buy it.”
“No.”
“No. No?”
“It’s an elixir for a shared dreamspace,” Dori explains, starting her jumps up the stairs to the city. “All you have to do is get your fennec fox companion to drink it at the same time as you.”
Cyno hums. “Who said anything about Tighnari?”
“Definitely not you, definitely not to him,” Dori laughs. Cyno is hit with the distinct impression that she’s making fun of him. “When I picked you up this morning, you were in much too-tight pajamas, coming straight out of his bedroom to greet me. You looked offended that Collei and him left for patrol before we left for the city. What, you didn’t get a goodbye kiss?”
“I never do,” Cyno sighs. “Let’s stop talking about this for a little while.”
“But you still want the elixir?”
Cyno gives Dori the illusion of hesitancy by not talking for a few moments. “Yes, of course I do.”
“And you’re totally not going to use it with Tighnari,” Dori teases.
“I am not,” Cyno decides, adamant. His mother always told him he was too much like his father; stubborn, relentless to a point even when it fails to serve him. But he can't bring Tighnari straight into the dreamscape. That would eliminate all possibilities of Cyno’s investigation.
“Then who’s going to be your second person?” Dori questions.
Cyno blinks at her. Once, twice.
He opens his mouth with an offer on his tongue.
/////
“The elixir is in the shot glasses. I can’t believe I get to see the great General Mahamatra throw one back,” Dori jokes, joining Cyno on the floor of her apartment.
Cyno swirls the liquid in the cup Dori handed him just moments before. “This is it?”
“Yep,” Dori says. “My Fontainian business partner said they have a slight umami aftertaste. They should knock us out for a few hours into a shared dreamscape.”
“Why does my cup have so much more of the drink than yours does?” Cyno asks. He narrows his eyes at Dori’s cup, which only has a few sips worth of liquid in it.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s your dreamscape, pretty boy. I’m just here to enjoy the ride. Whoever takes more of the elixir gets to decide most of the dream’s background, if my business partner is to be trusted.”
“Do you trust them?’
“Enough to be doing this with you. Come on. Let’s get on with it.”
Cyno blinks at her for a few moments, the electrodes in his brain skipping a few connections and rendering him momentarily unable to move. In his hand, a cup, offering the possibility of a glimpse into what life could be like, if he actually confessed to Tighnari, his best friend since childhood, his entire framework for his worldly outlook. Across from him, Dori, humming a tune to a song he can’t distinguish, her cup poised just beyond her lips.
Cyno hasn’t researched this elixir. He’s barely studied dream science, and although his job requires him to have a great deal of general knowledge on a vast array of general topics, he doesn’t have a firm enough grasp on what dream expectations he should be going in with.
Will this be worth it?
“I can hear you overthinking from here,” Dori interjects his thoughts. “Some advice from me-- don’t think, just do. Whatever happens, it’ll be done in a few hours. I don’t know why you want to dream, but something motivated you enough to pay me the coverage fee, so isn’t that enough to take the chance? Won’t you regret it if you don’t even try?”
Cyno blinks at Dori. He nods slowly, tips the cup backwards on his lip before he can think too hard about it. He swallows.
Unconsciousness greets him quickly.
/////
Cyno’s head feels heavy. His eyes are closed; he opens them, and can’t see a thing.
“Dori?” Cyno calls out. His voice is scratched and subdued, as if his throat hasn’t moved in years. “Are you with me?”
“I’m here, look at me,” she replies. Her voice is smoother around the edges than usual; untouched by the pipe smoke she regularly indulges in. “Cyno?”
He blinks, and suddenly the world is in focus. It’s green, so green, green all around him, and Dori is wearing yellow, a flower tucked into where her glasses meet her hair.
“Is that… a silk flower?” Cyno asks, reaching out for the flower. Dori bats his hands away instantly.
“A silk flower? Do I look like I have a spare 50,000 mora? Those are expensive imports from Liyue,” she frowns, before raking her eyes over Cyno. Something catches her attention, because her eyes widen, and she takes a step closer to him, hand grabbing onto something in his hair. “Although… Cyno, you’ve got a strange flower on you.”
Dori plucks the flower from his head, and presents it to Cyno. Cyno grabs it, turning it around between his fingers. A cecilia. Cyno has never seen the plant in real life before, but he easily recognizes it as a favorite of Tighnari’s, back when he would read his nature books on the carpet of Cyno’s childhood bedroom.
“This is a cecilia,” Cyno tells Dori, bringing the flower up to his nose to smell. It smells like sweetness, it smells like rain, it smells like 3pm play fights in Cyno’s old backyard.
“You spend too much time with that damn botanist,” Dori sighs, grabbing onto Cyno’s arm and pulling him further along the dreamspace. “Look around here.”
Here is almost a mirrored replica of the clearing just outside of Tighnari’s house. The difference is, while Tighnari’s actual home is surrounded by the supple greenery of the Avidya Forest, this clearing…
“Naku weed?” Dori laughs. “Oh, I recognize that one. Cyno, if you just wanted to see some naku weed, I’ve got that for a fraction of the price of this dream elixir. You should’ve told me you wanted to dabble.”
“Tighnari loves naku weed,” Cyno comments quietly, plucking some of the strands from the ground.
“Shocker.”
“Not like that,” Cyno smiles, rubbing dirt off the roots. “Or at least, not entirely like that. In school, these were some of his favorites to learn about for a while. They thrive in hyper-electric environments.”
“Figures,” Dori mumbles. She finally reaches up into her own hair, plucking the silk flower out. “A silk flower. Is this real?”
“I don’t think so,” Cyno murmurs. “This space doesn’t actually exist, right? We’re in the Avidya Forest, but these plants don’t grow here. This is dreaming. Huh.”
“Do you recognize these other plants?” Dori asks, motioning around them.
Cyno glances around. The plants are gathered in small clumps, each different. Cyno has seen some before in reality, watching Tighnari roll certain flowers into homely bouquets for his windowsill; others, Cyno can barely name, desperately filtering through his memories of Tighnari pointing them out in textbooks. He thinks he can identify a wolfhook bramble and a smattering of lamp grass amongst the more exotic plants. If he looks towards the stone of Tighnari’s house, he spots violet grass climbing up the outer walls.
“Some of them,” Cyno answers, reaching a hand out to touch a clump of starshrooms by his feet. “There’s so many. I--”
Somewhere in the distance, a page turns. Cyno immediately whips his head up, looking for the source of the sound.
It’s Tighnari, kneeling in the dirt, plucking the leaves from a plant Cyno can’t place. Tighnari takes the leaves, presses them into his field notebook, and begins the process of etching the plant into his pages.
“‘Nari?” Dori calls out, stepping closer to him. “Hey, ‘Nari, can you hear me?”
Tighnari can hear everything. His ears are an asset to him as a ranger, but Cyno knows that on the flipside, high volume is difficult for him to process. When Tighnari’s tired, he’ll fold his ears down and try to hold them still between his head and his shoulders. Cyno asked him about it once, in their school days, so quietly as if in disbelief that Tighnari could audibly block him out. Tighnari still managed to answer his question without asking Cyno to repeat himself.
But this dream-Tighnari doesn’t react to Dori at all. He keeps etching his leaf into his notebook, and when he finishes with that, he plucks out another.
“Incredible,” Cyno whispers. Then, louder, he calls, “Tighnari! What color underwear am I wearing?”
Dori looks incredulously at him. “Excuse me, what did you just say?”
Tighnari still hasn’t moved from his sketches.
“Usually he sends me one of his looks after I ask stuff like that,” Cyno explains. “You know, when he brings his eyebrows closer together and bites down on his lip to hide a smile. But, look, he’s not reacting to that. I don’t think this dream apparition of Tighnari can see us here with him.”
With that knowledge in his pocket, Cyno moves closer to Tighnari, crouching down next to the other man. He watches over Tighnari’s shoulder as he begins applying pressure to petals between his book’s pages in an effort to preserve the flower.
“So, this is it? This is what you want to do with your dream?” Dori asks, voice getting louder as she moves to sit down beside them.
“Yes?” Cyno replies, confused. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”
“Isn’t this something you could do in reality?”
“Well, yes, but,” Cyno’s mouth twists, “I like this. I like being around him and seeing him in his element. With our work schedules, quiet moments like this in reality are rare. And… I don’t want to make him do anything he might be uncomfortable with. Even like this, in a subconscious experience he’ll never directly see.”
“So, what do you want to do now?” Dori asks, tilting her head up to the sky. “Can you make anything appear? Can you summon Nilou, and have her perform for us?”
Dori continues throwing out possibilities as Cyno keeps watching Tighnari. Tighnari’s started to jot notes down in between the pressings in the pages, his pen curling delicately in a cursive style that sometimes eludes even Cyno. The page is a puzzle, the page is Tighnari’s brain at work, and Cyno has never wanted to memorize anything more.
“I think we’ll stay like this,” Cyno interrupts Dori.
Dori stutters for a moment, then sighs deeply. “All right. We’ll stay like this. Can you at least summon me some entertainment?”
Closing his eyes, Cyno imagines a friendly lot of mushroom spores. When he opens his eyes, he sees the blue blobs emerge from the forest depths, crowding around Dori and gently knocking into her in greeting.
“This’ll do,” Dori smiles, reaching her arms out to gather one into a hug. “Thanks, Cyno. Carry on with your pining.”
“Weird way to say research, but okay,” Cyno murmurs, blinking one final time at her before turning his attention back to Tighnari.
Tighnari’s doodling insects next to his flower etchings.
Cyno rapturously watches.
/////
There are no great changes to Cyno’s life after entering the dreamscape. He’s plagued by a bad migraine for a week afterwards, perhaps a common side effect from the elixir he never properly researched, but he soldiers through it and continues his work. He bans a scholar from ever teaching again after the scholar’s research papers were proven as mere fabrication, he eliminates a rumor about Lesser Lord Kusanali’s supposed ‘cursed aura’, and he drowns himself in academic article after academic article.
Fairly typical, for his way of life. Boring as can be, as well.
Cyno finds himself in the Avidya Forest a month after dreaming, on a clumsy excuse of “checking that the local fauna hasn’t spliced into horticulture dangerous towards humanity, yes, that’s an important task indeed, Dori, now please take me with you.” Dori didn’t give him too much grief about the trip, especially after Cyno forked over a hefty sum for a ride.
Dori drops Cyno off at the edge of the forest, as his clever cover story also included the fauna there. Cyno waves Dori off, watches her caravan leave eyesight, and then promptly ignores the forest fauna on the way to Tighnari’s house. Upon arrival, Tighnari opens the door before Cyno has the chance to knock.
“How do you always do that?” Cyno asks, standing still at the sight of Tighnari. “How do you always know when I’m here?”
“You walk on the outsides of your feet,” Tighnari easily replies. “Supination, it’s called. If I had to guess, it’s a big part of why you have poor posture.”
Cyno looks behind himself, as if hoping to find someone to defend him, although he knows he traveled the path to Tighnari’s alone. “I journeyed all day today, in the heat, just to get here and be immediately told I have bad posture.”
“I have fresh honeyed dates in the kitchen,” Tighnari says, leaning against his front door. “Available to certain guests of mine with sloped spines.”
“You--” Cyno cuts himself off, laughing. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine, okay, I’ll come in.”
Even as the words fall from his lips, he remains still. Tighnari fakes a curtsy and gestures him inside with his arm, but even then, a few seconds pass by and Cyno remains motionless.
They’re standing in the same clearing Cyno dreamed of, decorated in the floral wonders of the world. Although it felt magical in the dream, Cyno finds himself more comforted by the way the clearing looks now; familiar, green, and Tighnari’s own.
“Any day now,” Tighnari prompts, rolling his eyes.
“If you insist,” Cyno replies, finally walking over to the house’s entrance.
Before long, Cyno finds himself sitting at Tighnari’s kitchen table, a big plate of honeyed dates resting between him and the other man. They indulge in the usual idle chatter, catching up with each other with ease and merriment.
“Dori told me that you had some head troubles this month,” Tighnari mentions eventually, his head tilted with his hair swooped in front of his face. “Something about a persistent migraine?”
“Oohth, thath,” Cyno says while chewing his food. “Yeth, you shthee--”
“Swallow,” Tighnari interrupts, smiling. “Then tell me all about it.”
Cyno rolls his eyes and fights a smile back, chewing on the honeyed dates carefully before swallowing slowly. He clears his throat, raises his eyebrows at Tighnari to jokingly ask for permission to speak, and once Tighnari scoffs, he smiles and starts talking.
“Yeah, I had a really bad migraine for about a week. My assistants kept asking me questions and scavenging my libraries trying to find a cure, but luckily, it seemed to fade away naturally. Must have been a side effect of an elixir I tried, but I won’t find out until I consult this scholar from Fontaine that Dori knows.”
Tighnari’s head tilts again. “Elixir? Fontaine?’
Right.
Cyno clears his throat and tightens his fingers’ grip on the hem of his pants. “I tried an elixir with Dori, one she had gotten from a merchant in Fontaine. It wasn’t the most well thought-out of plans. It had some… hallucinogenic effects.”
“Why… Why did you do that? That doesn’t sound like you,” Tighnari accurately deduces. It doesn't sound like Cyno, ingesting an elixir that he hasn’t completely researched, going into action without a set plan… but in this case, the benefits outweighed any risk. Cyno held higher the possibility of time with Tighnari than any bodily harm that possibility would’ve presented to himself.
“Have you ever dreamed?” Cyno asks the other man, who visibly stills at the question. “Listen, I know… There’s little room in our society for dreams. They’re impractical, arbitrary, and don’t always follow logic. The people of Sumeru do not dream…. but surely, some have? Even if only once, even if only on accident? Tighnari, have you ever dreamed?”
“Is this a new investigation of yours?” Tighnari asks quietly.
Cyno is quick to shake his head, waving his hands in front of him as if to fight off Tighnari’s concern. “No, no, it’s just an honest question. From me to you, off the record. As always.”
“You’re asking if I’ve dreamed?” Tighnari rubs at his eyes. “Well, to be honest with you, no. I haven’t ever dreamed. I’m not quite sure I’ve ever had the desire to, either.”
Cyno bites down on his lower lip and averts his eyes. “That’s fair.”
After a few silent moments, Tighnari finally hesitantly asks, “Have you?”
Cyno sucks on his teeth. “I have now.”
“You drank a dream elixir? From Fontaine?”
“Apparently it’s common in their culture to use such concoctions for conflict resolution between two people,” Cyno explains. He has to grasp onto the practicality of the experience; otherwise, Tighnari will see right through him. I wanted to dream because I wanted to be with you. “I had never experienced dreaming before, Dori was in possession of the elixir, I was in possession of, well, a certain sum of Mora, and… I dreamed, Tighnari. We both took the elixir, and then we had a dream.”
“Were you and Dori fighting?” Tighnari sounds less concerned, now, albeit more confused. “Is… that why?”
Cyno shakes his head. “No, that wasn’t it. The elixir doesn’t work if only one person ingests it. Dori was just there, and didn’t have any objections to trying it.”
Tighnari is silent for a few moments. “What did you dream about?”
Cyno looks out Tighnari’s window. “Oh, you know. World destruction. Mass power. Getting married to Al-Haitham’s mother.”
“Al-Haitham’s mother died of natural causes three years ago,” Tighnari frowns. “I remember because you made such a fuss at being required to attend the funeral.”
“I could’ve made her come back to life in the dream, you know,” Cyno fusses.
“So you irresponsibly ingested a dream elixir with the intention of experiencing the facade of a marriage to Al-Haitham’s mother,” Tighnari deadpans. “Well, forgive me for not giving my congratulations sooner. I hope my dream self was hospitable enough to bring a gift to the wedding.”
Cyno hums, reaching for the last of the honeyed dates. He places the food on Tighnari’s plate, and the other man watches as he does so.
“What did you dream about?” Tighnari asks again.
Cyno swallows around nothing. In his younger years, he would’ve easily evaded the question by listing more and more absurd possibilities. He would’ve kept going until Tighnari grew tired of his ramblings and decided to pay attention to something else.
But last month, Cyno decided to partake in irresponsible dreaming, and all he found there was peace next to Tighnari. Dreams are mindsets that allow utmost freedom, and to Cyno, freedom was represented by a day with no pressing work obligations, spent in Tighnari’s space and getting to observe him indulge in his hobbies.
Cyno is still in awe of its simplicity.
That’s why, instead of evading the question, he says, “I dreamed of flowers. All kinds, from everywhere, growing in your yard.”
Cyno doesn’t look at Tighnari as he talks; instead, he focuses his attention outside Tighnari’s window, to the little clearing that was surrounded in flora in his dream.
“I see,” Tighnari hums. After a beat of silence, Cyno hears him call out his name.
“Yeah?” Cyno responds, his voice a bit distant.
“I’ve never dreamed.” A statement. Tighnari continues. “I’ve never dreamed, but I think that if I did, I know what I’d dream about.”
“Marrying Al-Haitham’s mother,” Cyno supplies.
“She’s not really my type,” Tighnari laughs, reaching across the table to knock his hand into Cyno’s. “I’d dream of the desert, I think. Prickly pears and the summer sun. Having a drink with you.”
“You were in my dream, pressing flower etchings into your field notebook,” Cyno admits, smiling. He’s still got his eyes trained outside, where the sun shimmers through the forest branches and falls gently on the warm dirt.
“Now that hardly sounds like me,” Tighnari says. Cyno can tell by the infliction of his voice that he’s got a smile on his face. “A botanist, pressing flower etchings into a field notebook? I thought dreams were supposed to be fantastical, but I never imagined it’d go to that level of fantasy.”
“Tell me more about this dream you’d like to have,” Cyno says, finally tilting his head away from the window and moving his eyes to roam over Tighnari’s face. “I’d be there? Drinking? With you?”
“We’d be sitting on your porch and no one else would be near us,” Tighnari says, voice quieting. Cyno wraps his hand more firmly against Tighnari’s and squeezes. “And we’d watch the sun fall, watch the sky turn navy and the stars turn silver and Celestia turn bigger and bigger until we lost it all.”
“That’s a rather sad ending, isn’t it?”
“Not to me,” Tighnari says firmly. Cyno finally notices how close they are, leaning into each other, easily able to conquer the length of Tighnari’s small kitchen table. “I couldn’t imagine a better way to go.”
Something warm touches the tip of Cyno’s nose; it takes a moment before he recognizes the sensation of Tighnari’s breath. Cyno’s gaze dips down to Tighnari’s mouth; Tighnari notices this, and gulps. His snaggletooth catches onto his bottom lip.
“Tighnari,” Cyno whispers, leaning in closer to the other man. “I think you’ve got something on your lips.”
“Do I?” Tighnari replies, voice full of sarcasm. “Oh, wow, what a shame. If only there was someone out there who could do something about that.”
“What you don’t know, is that actually, I’ve been training my whole life for this exact moment,” Cyno smiles, eyes flickering from Tighnari’s eyes (speckled and brilliant) to Tighnari’s mouth (lips bitten and blush pink). “There’s this technique I’ve heard about, very secret stuff from the Akademiya, you wouldn’t believe how many men I’ve had to battle just to--”
Cyno’s interrupted by the gentlest press of Tighnari’s lips against his own.
Tighnari is quick to release their contact but doesn’t make a move drastically away. Cyno would only have to budge his face forward before their faces would meet in another kiss, so that’s exactly what Cyno does. Meet Tighnari’s lips, press further into the man he’d loved since his school days.
There are parallels between this and the dreamscape he created, Cyno finds. First: time escapes him. Cyno can’t fathom to guess how much time is passing them by, and he can’t find it in himself to care. Second: Cyno feels happiness down to his bones. It’s as if his whole body is vibrating with emotion, and for once, Cyno doesn’t immediately try to repress it. And third: Tighnari is here with him. Holding onto his collar, opening his mouth wider, pressing against Cyno’s chest harder.
They break away from each other softly, and Tighnari leans his head against Cyno’s shoulder. Cyno reaches an arm around him, pulling him in close.
“Next time, don’t give all your mora to Dori,” Tighnari mutters, pushing his forehead against Cyno’s neck. “Just come over to me.”
Cyno tilts his head down to kiss Tighnari’s hair. “You’re so dreamy.”
Tighnari’s laughter stilts into the air. “You’re horrible.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” Tighnari sighs, resting again against Cyno’s shoulder. “You’re so dreamy, too.”
/////
“Say, Cyno… do you think Dori still has any more of that elixir?”
“I don’t know. I can ask, though. Why?”
“Well, I was just thinking. I’ve been in your dream, sure, but I’ve never been in a dream of my own.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. That might be fun, right? You could come along if you’d like. Otherwise, I could always invite Al-Haitham. I have heard his mother’s quite the impressive woman.”
“Tighnari.”
“Yes?”
“No Al-Haitham. And I’ll ask Dori tomorrow.”