Chapter Text
The first time Tighnari touches Cyno’s hand is entirely unexpected. It also happens so casually that Cyno isn’t even sure Tighnari thinks anything of it. In fact, he might not even have noticed it as something out of the ordinary.
“That’s too much force, you’re smothering the poor plant,” Tighnari chides him, but he’s laughing so there’s no malice. Cyno’s clumsy attempts at gardening must be a source of amusement for him. And quite honestly, Cyno can’t even be offended, he is proving to be rather incompetent at correctly securing the saplings in their new homes.
When Cyno had asked Tighnari if he could help with transplanting the saplings Tighnari had grown in the nursery, Tighnari had looked at him with equal parts confusion and suspicion. An understandable reaction, given that Cyno had never really had much contact with Amurta classes during his time as a student at the Akademiya. “It is beneficial to my work as the General Mahamatra if I know about the daily dealings of each Darshan. I’m better at spotting irregularities or suspicious behaviour that way,” was the reason Cyno gave him.
A weak excuse, at best. Believable enough, but a task as mundane as transplanting saplings surely did not warrant such close attention. Cyno was certain Tighnari could see right through him. It was an unusual sensation, to be the target of such scrutiny, to have someone else try to assess if he had hidden intentions, and if yes, how harmful they might be. Usually Cyno is on the other side of such a gaze.
“Very well,” Tighnari accepted after a long pause, still watching Cyno closely.
Tighnari might not have believed Cyno’s reason, but Cyno is sure that Tighnari has not guessed his true motive either. After all, Tighnari doesn’t believe himself to be of great interest to others. He does not understand his own popularity, possibly isn’t even fully aware of its extent. The reason Cyno wants to help with the transplantation is as simple as it is uncommon for him—intrigue. He is intrigued with Tighnari, he wants to know him better, he wants to spend time with him, as much time as he can. Cyno does not usually seek the company of others, and so he knows no better way than somewhat believable excuses to achieve that. There is a comfort in Tighnari’s presence that he finds himself growing addicted to at an unprecedented pace.
And that is how he finds himself kneeling on the damp soil of Pardis Dhyai, next to Tighnari, attempting to move saplings from pots to their new outside home. Tighnari showed him the process, and Cyno watched carefully, but watching and doing are two entirely different things, evidently.
“You need to pat down the soil strongly enough to give the sapling support but you must be careful not to harm its roots,” Tighnari explains. “Here, like this.”
And just like that he takes Cyno’s hands and pulls them over to where Tighnari has placed the sapling in the hole he dug. He guides Cyno to cover it with enough soil that the root ball no longer is visible, and then some, until it is buried at about the same height it was during its time in the nursery. Then, Tighnari applies gentle pressure, and Cyno lets Tighnari pat down on the soil through Cyno’s hands.
“And now water to make sure the roots are settled and there’s no air pockets.” Tighnari removes his hands from Cyno’s to reach for the watering can, and Cyno pulls his hands back to make space for Tighnari to work.
“See? Now you try again.” Tighnari watches him expectantly, his ears pointing upwards and twitching slightly.
Cyno moves to the next sapling in an attempt to hide how flustered he is, focusing on the task he has been given. Tighnari watches attentively, giving no indication whatsoever that he is paying much mind to the fact that he just held Cyno’s hands. Cyno can still feel the ghost of Tighnari’s palm against his skin, a tingling phantom touch. When the sapling sits securely in the soil, Tighnari hums in approvement and nods, “Much better. You’re a fast learner, General Mahamatra,” he compliments.
The title sounds wrong on Tighnari’s tongue.
“Call me Cyno.”
Tighnari looks surprised again, and Cyno almost expects some sort of protest, or further questions. But Tighnari simply smiles. “You’re a fast learner, Cyno.”
Then he turns back to his own patch and continues working as if Cyno’s world didn’t just shift fundamentally.
--
Cyno can sense that something is off the moment he lays eyes on Tighnari. They’ve met up for lunch, as they usually do when Cyno is not off tracking down recalcitrant scholars across Sumeru, which is most days. Their meals are never drawn out, as they are both busy people, but they are generally filled with amicable chatter, mostly from Tighnari who talks about his latest research. Cyno learned early on that the moment he got Tighnari talking about botany, he would get to listen to his voice for hours on end, and he employs that trick whenever he can.
Today, however, Tighnari is tense and distracted. His sentences keep trailing into silence and his gaze strays into the distance without really seeing anything. His lunch, mainly roasted mushrooms and a bowl of plain rice, as always, sits forgotten on his tray.
Next to him Cyno has his own plate filled with a helping of his favourite dish the canteen had to offer, Tahchin. He prefers the version of it that’s sold down at the Grand Bazaar, but the one served at the canteen is decent enough. And yet his food is growing cold in front of him, his thoughts occupied with what might be troubling Tighnari. He doesn’t know if it is his place to ask but when Tighnari doesn’t even respond to Cyno’s question about the newest batch of Kalpalata Lotuses Tighnari’s been trying to settle near Pardis Dhyai, Cyno starts to properly worry.
“Tighnari?”
No response, just Tighnari pushing the browned cap of a starshroom from the left side of his plate to the right.
“Tighnari.”
Still no response. Cyno furrows his brows.
“Tighnari,” he repeats with more emphasis, leaning forward until he’s in Tighnari’s direct line of sight. Finally he gets a reaction.
“Huh? Did you say something?”
“Tighnari, is something wrong?” Cyno asks, cutting straight to the chase because he doesn’t know how else to broach the topic. “You seem distracted.” An understatement, but it’s the most accurate way Cyno knows how to phrase his concern.
Tighnari sighs, his ears drooping down. He looks so upset and something in Cyno’s stomach twists painfully in reaction.
“I’m sorry, it’s nothing, probably,” Tighnari says, attention still focused on his food.
“If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen,” Cyno offers, and waits for Tighnari’s response.
Finally Tighnari raises his gaze, a tired smile on his lips that still manages to look grateful. Then he sighs again and scratches his head, right below where his ear protrudes from his hair.
“It’s my father. He is an entomologist and he mainly focuses on desert-dwelling beetles, so he goes out into the desert a lot. For the last few months he has been in Upper Setekh, conducting a long-term observation study,” Tighnari explains. “He was supposed to get back to Caravan Ribat yesterday, but he didn’t show up. There was a sandstorm, a bigger one than usual, and apparently, they lost contact with his caravan a few days ago.”
An embarrassed laugh.
“I’m probably being stupid, and they have just taken shelter somewhere. That’s why they’re late. It’s nothing unusual to lose contact for a while either. Getting messages across the desert isn’t easy, even when the weather conditions are good. It’s just… I worry.“ Another sigh. Furrowed eyebrows, downcast eyes. “No matter how unlikely it is, I keep picturing him getting surprised by the sandstorm. He has a tendency to forget all about his surroundings when he finds a beetle he’s interested in…“
Tighnari goes silent, as if he is consciously stopping himself from finishing that train of thought. It hangs in the air between them nonetheless, and Cyno wants to blurt out “I’m sure he’s okay.“ but he bites his tongue. That is exactly what Tighnari is already telling himself, and Cyno really has no way of knowing. It would be an empty reassurance. Cyno wants to do better than that. His chest squeezes so tightly he finds it hard to breathe when he sees Tighnari looking so dejected.
He wants to comfort him, but he can’t find the right words. In fact, he can’t seem to find any words at all, and so he does the only thing he can think of—he reaches out for Tighnari’s hand that’s resting on the table between them.
Tighnari’s eyes widen and his ears perk up in surprise. He looks at Cyno, then at their joined hands, then back up at Cyno. His mouth hangs open, as if he’s getting ready to say something. Cyno, suddenly feeling self-conscious, is about to retreat—and perhaps apologize—when Tighnari turns his hand under Cyno’s, bringing them palm to palm, and intertwines their fingers. He squeezes, once, then turns back to his food and continues eating, without letting go of Cyno’s hand.
Tighnari’s hand is calloused from all the manual labour in the greenhouse, but it still feels so soft and warm against Cyno’s. Cyno isn’t used to eating with his left hand, but it is a negligible price to pay for the smile on Tighnari’s lips.
--
Dear Tighnari,
I write you today from Aaru village, where I managed to intercept a scholar before they tried to foolishly venture into the desert. The pollen-filled satchels you gave me have worked well. Upon impact with the scholar’s face, the pollen immediately stalled their movement. It does require a very precise aim when throwing however, since the effect only is strong enough when the satchel hits right below the nose, and it works only on one target at a time. I’ll be glad to give you a more detailed account upon my return so you can refine your prototype.
As I was waiting for the scholar to be able to walk on their own again, I spotted rather familiar-looking ears. Your father’s fur is a lot lighter than yours but you do have the same eyes. He must have recognised me, since he approached me to ask if you were in trouble. It seems that our lunches have drawn some attention, with wrongful conclusions, but I assured him that there was no reason to worry. He was quite relieved to hear that. It is obvious that he cares for you greatly.
Also I didn’t realise how fascinating beetles can be. Your father told me that the scarab beetles found all over the desert are virtually unchanged since the reign of King Deshret. And did you know that not only do they form balls of dung up to three times their own size, but they also maintain the integrity of the territory around them? There was a specimen that your father had been observing, right outside Aaru village. The moment a quicksand Unagi left a hole in its territory, the scarab moved to fill it up. They really are little busy bee-tles.
I have enclosed a cactus flower to this letter. I found it fallen into the sand. At first I almost didn’t see it, it blended in very well with the colour of the sand. But it is still perfectly intact, despite having fallen, and it seems a waste to just let it rot away. Perhaps you can find a way to preserve it.
Cyno
--
The day Tighnari leaves the Akademiya, Cyno is not there to bid him farewell. Instead, he is out on a wild goose chase all across the Apam Woods. Literally. An Amurta researcher attempted to create a new breed of geese with higher intelligence. For what purpose, Cyno doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to know either. Not only did she fail in her experimentations, rather spectacularly so, but she also managed to violate several rules laid out by the Akademiya in regard to the manipulations of organisms. So of course it is Cyno’s job to go clean up her mess.
When he returns after multiple days of catching crazed poultry, he is exhausted, drenched and covered in mud. It’s still early afternoon but all he really wants is a nice, hot bath, and his bed. His eyes skim over his desk, where his Genius Invocation TCG deck is resting in its box. It has been eight days since his last match, but he can’t even summon the energy to want to head down to Puspa Café. Perhaps the next day. He might even be able to make time to hit up Port Ormos to purchase a few of the newly released booster packs.
Cyno only notices the page that’s out of place on his desk after he has returned from his bath, hair still damp and skin comfortably warm. He really must be tired, to not have spotted the note right away. Anything out of order like this would never escape his keen observation skills on a normal day. With two steps, he crosses the room and picks it up. He would recognise that neat handwriting anywhere.
Tighnari.
They have talked about how Tighnari does not see his future within the walls of the Akademiya. It is a decision not many scholars with as much academic success as Tighnari would have made, but Cyno respects him all the more for it. So it really doesn’t come as a surprise to Cyno that Tighnari has left the Akademiya to become a Forest Watcher instead. It is no surprise, and yet…
The paper feels strangely cold between his fingertips. Rough in a way a pressed page shouldn’t be. It is such a stark contrast to his own skin.
No, it is no surprise that Tighnari has left the Akademiya but only now that he’s gone does Cyno realise how much warmth he’s taken with him.
--
Cyno,
I’m sorry to just leave. A spot opened up with the Forest Watchers, and now that I have officially graduated, it is getting increasingly difficult to reject the offers to join the faculty. I wanted to say goodbye in person, but since it is never possible to tell when you return, I figured there was little use in waiting.
I hope you return from your mission successful. I will miss our shared meals, but if you should have some free time, you can come find me in Gandharva Ville. Lunch might be difficult because I’ll be out on patrol, but if you drop by in the evening I can whip us up something nice for dinner.
Tighnari
--
It is by accident that Cyno even runs into Tighnari. He’s tracking a scholar mad enough to try and hide within the effects of a Withering Zone—as if he thinks Cyno wouldn’t dare follow him there. It is a stupid idea to say the least, and a suicidal one if one is more precise. Sometimes Cyno wonders how these people ever even got admitted to the Akademiya. Looking at the facts known about The Withering, it is evident that no organism without the divine protection of a vision can withstand its effects for long. Cyno has a vision, the scholar does not. It’s a rather simple calculation, really.
It is the scholar’s saving grace that Tighnari finds him even before Cyno does. As skilled as Cyno is at tracking, the scholar has a headstart of an entire day before Cyno even realises he needs to go after him, so he might not have made it in time if not for Tighnari.
Cyno spots Tighnari’s ears before he spots the teal of the Akademiya uniform. It is natural, he reasons, their pointed shape standing out amidst the greenery but really, it’s just because he is so attuned to catching sight of Tighnari in a sea of students all dressed the same.
And what a sight he is.
Tighnari stands in the middle of a clearing, bow still in hand, his entire body tense and ready for battle. He’s breathing heavily, as if he just finished a fight but is expecting the next one to start any second. His ears are perked up, attentive.
Cyno steps on a tiny branch as he makes his way down the slope. It barely makes a sound but Tighnari spins around in his direction immediately, arrow nocked and bowstring drawn taut. The expression in his eyes looks crazed, like a wounded animal backed into a corner, seeing an enemy in anything that approaches it. Cyno immediately halts his steps.
“It’s me,” he calls out.
Even before the words are out, Tighnari already eases the tension from his bow, letting it sink down. He leaves the arrow nocked.
“I’m sorry, I should have recognised you,” he apologises as Cyno emerges from the undergrowth. “It’s been a long day.”
Tighnari doesn’t often admit to exhaustion, but now that Cyno can get a good look at him, “long day” seems to be an understatement. Tighnari’s hair is matted to his forehead from sweat and there are gashes in his clothes. Cyno doesn’t see blood, so the cuts don’t appear to be deep, but they are numerous.
“I assume you’re here for him?” Tighnari motions with his head towards a family of trees off to the side.
Cyno’s gaze briefly darts in the indicated direction, and he catches a sight of teal clothes and brown hair but the scholar is only his second priority at the moment.
“Are you on your own?” he asks, moving to stand right in front of Tighnari. Up close Cyno can see the subtle shaking of exhausted muscles in Tighnari’s arms. He’s still breathing heavier than usual.
Tighnari scowls. Not at Cyno. It’s the expression he wears when he talks about the state of the forest lately. “I couldn’t spare anyone else. Most of them busy cleaning up chaos caused by a shroomboar overpopulation, or the swarms of fungi down by Apam forest, and the handful who have a vision are down near Yasna Monument fighting The Withering there.”
His hand clenches tighter around the curve of his bow.
“It is dangerous to go on your own,” Cyno states the obvious. Too dangerous, he thinks but doesn’t add.
Tighnari huffs, sounding almost defiant. “I don’t really have a choice. The Withering has spread all over Chinvat Ravine like a belt that’s slowly suffocating the forest. It has to be dealt with.”
Cyno looks at him, the tremble of his legs, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his sweat-bedded forehead. Tighnari is strong, stronger than most might think but he doesn’t know his limit. Or perhaps he knows, and chooses to push past it anyway for what he sees as the greater good.
“Anyways, I have to go find the next Withering tumor. I’ve given your scholar some medicine to stave off the immediate symptoms of the exposure to The Withering but I recommend dropping him off at Bimarstan when you get back to the city. He was already unconscious when I found him.”
Tighnari turns to leave, and Cyno reaches out to stop him, catching Tighnari’s sleeve. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, Tighnari looks down at Cyno’s hand.
“What are you doing?” he asks, a strain in his voice.
“You can’t just continue, you need to rest,” Cyno demands.
“How can I rest? Something has to be done!” Tighnari exclaims, startling Cyno. He is taken aback by the desperation visible in Tighnari’s expression. “Collei has not been able to get out of bed for four day, Cyno. Four days. Gandharva Ville is surrounded by Withering Zones, and the closer to The Withering she is, the worse her Eleazar flares up. Not only hers, too, but everyone’s. I have to get rid of the Withering Zones or even my medicine won’t be able to help them much longer.”
Tighnari’s arms are shaking, not from exhaustion this time but from frustration. Tighnari wants to fix things, and usually he can. He doesn’t often run into situations that leave him feeling powerless.
“I didn’t know it had gotten this bad,” Cyno says quietly.
He had been meaning to visit, but the increase of canned knowledge in circulation had kept him too busy. He vows to himself to go visit Tighnari and Collei regularly from now on, to make their joint dinners not an exception but a rule.
Cyno isn’t good at dealing with outbursts of emotions, least of all where Tighnari is concerned. Tighnari, who is the picture of calm and level-headed. Cyno relies simply on instinct when he releases Tighnari’s sleeve and instead lets his hand trail down Tighnari’s arm, to where Tighnari is still holding the arrow. Gently, Cyno unfurls Tighnari’s fingers from the string and Tighnari lets him.
The fabric of Tighnari’s glove is coarse. It has to be durable enough to withstand thorns and wayward branches, and it has proven its worth because it might be the only clothing item on Tighnari—aside from his shoes—that has come out of the battles mostly intact.
“Give me five minutes,” Cyno requests, looking right into Tighnari’s eyes and forcing him to hold his gaze. “I will secure the scholar and make sure he gets picked up, and then I’ll come with you.”
It is not the job of a General Mahamatra to tend to the health of the forest but Cyno has fulfilled his duty for the day by getting ahold of the scholar. This is more important. He might not be able to persuade Tighnari to stop, but he can fight by his side.
--
It is impossible for Cyno to surprise Tighnari with his visits. Even if he tries to be quiet and remain unseen, he doesn’t remain unheard. So when Cyno finds Tighnari sitting in the canopy of a tree not far from Gandharva Ville, Tighnari has already divided his lunch in half and put one portion next to him on the branch. He smiles at Cyno in greeting, but no words are exchanged as Cyno sits down and accepts the food. It is Tighnari’s favourite spot for lunch, and on more than one occasion Cyno has found him sound asleep between the leaves.
They eat in companionable silence as Cyno sorts through his thoughts. He has a reason for being here today, and it’s not just because he wanted to see Tighnari.
“I’m going to start my investigation today,“ Cyno informs him once they have both finished their food.
Tighnari throws him a sideways glance, then nods. Cyno is sure Tighnari already knew why he decided to drop by anyway.
The goodbye is not said, but it is heard. It is not a farewell for good, only for a while. Cyno cannot let the sages know that Tighnari suspects something is up with the Akademiya. Cyno cannot let him be implicated in his investigations. The Akademiya is a powerful enemy to have, and if Tighnari’s worries are correct, it might have already begun turning against its own.
Cyno doesn’t know what he would do if the Akademiya came after Tighnari just because he led them back to him. Cyno is already taking a risk coming here today, so close to beginning to poke his nose around. If anyone of the Akademiya were to know of his visit, they could easily draw a causal connection based on the temporal proximity of both events.
Really, Cyno should have informed Tighnari using the desert shrub leaves that only Tighnari would have been able to read it. They have used them as means of communication before when Cyno wanted to evade overly curious eyes. It would have left less of a trail. Posed less of a threat of discovery. It would have been the more cautious, the safer thing to do.
And yet.
Cyno doesn’t know how long he’ll be unable to visit Tighnari. It could be months. Whatever the project the sages are hiding is, it is huge, and Cyno has a feeling it is dangerous too. Cyno’s hands are resting in his lap, balled into fists. To think that something like that has been happening all along, right under his nose… Before he has gotten to the bottom of it, he will not be able to return to Gandharva Ville. He cannot draw any attention to Tighnari, more than he might already have anyway. So he just had to see him, in person, one last time.
Selfish.
A gust of wind rustles the leaves around them. In the distance, Cyno hears the cry of birds. It is peaceful, so serene. Such a stark contrast from the constant bustle of Sumeru city.
Tighnari watches him quietly, then pulls up a small bag and starts rummaging through it. He emerges with two small packages in his hand, one wrapped in a large leaf and bound up with a braided cord, the other wrapped in a green cloth with yellow patterns.
“Here. For you.“ He holds both out to Cyno.
Cyno looks at him in question, hesitating. He recognises both wrappings. “What are you going to eat?“
“I’ve just eaten, stupid,“ Tighnari looks at him as if he worries about Cyno developing short-term amnesia. “These are just for an emergency anyway, and I can make new ones easily. You won’t be able to stop by for dinners anymore, and I can’t have you live on canteen food and Jut’s Tahchin alone.“
Tighnari holds the wrapped food right in front of Cyno’s chest, lifting it impatiently. Arguing with Tighnari is useless when he is this determined, so Cyno accepts the packages with a small thank you. He stores them away carefully in his backpack.
Silence falls between them when the rustle of the fabric has died down, the backpack resting securely at Cyno’s side. He should really get going. The longer he dawdles, the bigger the chance that someone will spot them after all. With how high up in the treetops they are, there might only be a small possibility, but it’s not non-existent. Adventurers get up to the craziest things these days.
“Hey.“
There’s something in Tighnari’s voice that prompts Cyno to turn his head and look at him. Tighnari’s expression is just as indecipherable as the emotion resonating in his voice. Solemn, wistful, but also smiling, if only slightly. Warm fingers ghost over Cyno’s hands. Gently, Tighnari unfurls Cyno’s fist, sneaking his fingers inbetween Cyno’s. His gaze doesn’t stray from Cyno’s face.
“Be careful,“ he instructs. More, implores. Demands.
Tighnari’s glove lies discarded to Tighnari’s side. Cyno didn’t even notice Tighnari take it off, and he doesn’t understand why he did but he also couldn’t care less. Tighnari’s hand still feels the same as it did that day in the cafeteria, calloused yet soft, but it’s also warm and reassuring now. His grasp is firm. Confident. Unyielding.
Cyno smiles.
“I will be.“
Every passing second his investigation is delayed gives the sages more time to advance their project. Cyno should be returning to the Akademiya. Tighnari should be getting back to his patrol. But perhaps it is okay to just sit here for a little bit longer, soaking up the moment.