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The Withering truly is a disgusting thing.
Burning grass and trees turned black with decay. Animals dead or dying at the edges. Corrupted machinery that attacks anything that moves. It really is the scourge of Sumeru, the worst thing that could happen to the forest.
And then it worsened Collei's Eleazar and ruined Kaveh's life, and Tighnari decided it was the worst thing in all of Teyvat.
So when news comes to him of a new pocket of Withering north of the capital, he snaps that there's a new pocket of Withering everywhere. He dealt with one yesterday, one earlier today, and there's still three more locations he hasn't had a chance to survey yet.
But it is his duty to protect the forest and any who enter it. He pinches his nose, clears his schedule, and scribbles notes on his map of the Withering. The Sumeru City pocket is new, freshly formed and not yet big enough to be a concern. The Tumor of Withering likely hasn't solidified yet; he gives it another day or two before it can actually be destroyed.
There are other patches, bigger and scarier and full of irate monsters. The one just north of Vimara Village is poisoning the water supply of the whole village, and the Milleleth have been pressuring him to take care of one that sits on the borders of Sumeru and Liyue before they declare it an intentional invasion. Add in the fact that Tumors need several days after forming to attract monsters to protect it….
Tighnari shoves Sumeru City halfway down the list. Not big enough to require immediate action, but still in a dangerous, highly-trafficked location. He'll get to it in a week if his calculations are correct.
It's just over one week later that he finally organizes a small troupe of Forest Rangers to tackle the Sumeru City zone. He leads them along the path and around the city — because damn the sages if they think he'll tolerate the busy city center just to shave a few minutes off their travel time.
The downside of this, however, is having to split from the trail to trek through the forest.
It's nothing they haven't done before. The terrain may not be as familiar as the Avidya Forest, but compasses and maps still work the same. Tighnari's perched on the trunk of a fallen tree, hand extended down to help Rana climb over, when he feels something very familiar and oddly disconcerting: a single wave of Dendro energy.
He lifts his head towards the source, the very destination he was trying to reach. Someone has cleared the Withering Zone.
What kind of fool–
Tighnari curses and jumps down, leaving Rana to be helped by other rangers. He races through the trees, jumping over tall roots and ducking under low branches. He finds not one fool at the Withering Zone, but a whole group of them — all wearing the gear of the matra.
And commanding those fools is a very familiar voice.
Gods, Cyno has to be the most beautiful man Tighnari's ever seen. He's especially beautiful in the fading glow of Dendro energy, his spear gripped in his right hand, his left outstretched as he gives orders.
"Look for any signs of further contamination." Cyno orders. "It needs to be dealt with immediately."
The gathered matra break off in pairs, heading in different directions through the forest.
"Wait!" Tighnari calls before they can wander too far. They pause, turning to glance between Cyno and Tighnari. Cyno raises a (bloodied) brow, but motions for them to return.
"A group of Forest Rangers is due to arrive any minute now," Tighnari says. He moves to stand beside Cyno. "Wait until they get here, then split into groups with them. This will reduce your chances of getting lost."
The matra look to Cyno again. "A good idea. Thank you, Master Tighnari."
"Of course." Tighnari nods to him, then turns back to the matra. "Anyone who entered the Withering Zone needs to stay behind for examination."
He scans through the soldiers before him, taking stock of any injuries or illness. He's only half surprised to find that Cyno is the only one wounded.
Tighnari sighs, turning back to Cyno to take his chin and inspect every inch of his face — there's a cut on his forehead, small but still bleeding, and a scratch across his cheek. His body is littered with more injuries — bruises along his chest and arms, multiple cuts and torn skin, and a puncture wound just above his hip. He smells of dirt and ashes and fire, the stench enough to burn Tighnari's nose.
His hair is filled with dead leaves and broken twigs. Tighnari runs his fingers through it, trying to clear it, his touch far too gentle, far too soft.
"Tighnari," Cyno says, whispers. They cannot do this in front of his men.
"How long were you in there?" Tighnari asks, clinical once again.
"Not long enough to worry," Cyno answers.
Tighnari hums. A movement behind Cyno catches his eye. Several matra, some holding up two fingers, others mouthing the word twenty until Cyno turns to see what's captured his attention.
Mm- hm.
"And you were the only one?"
"I was the only Vision bearer."
That is… hard to believe. Cyno knows better than to tackle the Withering on his own. Tighnari raises a brow. "There are no others on your team?"
There is a long and heavy silence from Cyno, one that ventures into the realm of worrying. "They were assigned by the sages," he answers at last, "and I was not allowed to make any changes."
"So why were you assigned to clear the Withering when I was already made aware?"
The silence this time is shorter, but holds more weight than the first. "The sages believed that you had forgotten your responsibilities as a Forest Watcher."
There is a horrendous, terrifying click! in Tighnari's head.
This was a warning. Tighnari refused to jump through hoops for the sages; the sages put someone close to Tighnari in danger.
The look in Cyno's eyes tells Tighnari he's realized this as well. Probably from the moment he was handed the order.
This is why they've kept their relationship secret — General Mahamatra is a dangerous position. One filled with enemies. Cyno keeps them secret to keep them safe.
Tighnari never imagined there would be a day where Cyno was used to punish him.
The Forest Rangers arrive. They are grouped with the matra and dispersed. Only when they're alone does Tighnari squeeze his hand over Cyno's on his spear. Together, they dismiss it.
"Cyno–"
"I'm fine, Tighnari. Just tired." Cyno makes his way to a stump and sinks onto it.
The medkit Tighnari has is ill-prepared for the Withering, but he summons it anyway. He kneels before Cyno, gloveless, and wets a clean cloth with water from his canteen. When he dabs at the blood on Cyno's forehead it is gentle, almost too much so. The blood sticks to his skin, only lifting away after being thoroughly soaked.
"What did you have to fight?" Tighnari asks.
"A ruin machine."
How very vague. Tighnari pokes at a bruise that spans from Cyno's hip to his chest. It was meant to be light, playful. Not harsh enough to make Cyno grunt.
But he does, and he tries to cover it with a clearing of his throat that would never fool Tighnari.
"Quit downplaying it," Tighnari scolds. He pulls ointment and bandages from his bag. Cyno waits until they have been applied to speak.
"It was a Ruin Hunter."
A Ruin–
A Ruin Hunter?! Tighnari freezes, his hand cupped around Cyno's bicep.
"The Withering should not have been strong enough to overwrite its programming," Tighnari says, wrapping a bandage around a cut. "Not yet, at least." He taps the underside of Cyno's arm. Cyno lifts it for Tighnari to inspect the bruise on his side.
"You've said yourself," Cyno says, "that the Withering has grown stronger."
He's not wrong, as much as Tighnari wants to deny it. And with this area being so close to the Akademiya and its experiments, the Withering could very well have found a disabled Ruin Hunter to possess. Worrying, but not impossible.
Tighnari pulls Cyno from the stump to the ground, laying him on his back. Tighnari ignores the annoyed look he gets to shine a light into the wound on his hip.
It's small, not deep, around the size and length of Tighnari's knuckle. There's no debris in it; not any that Tighnari can see, at least. His nose wrinkles as he studies the skin around it, blackened and smelling of burnt flesh.
"What caused this?" Tighnari asks.
"A thorn from the Tumor. It disappeared when I cleared the zone."
Everything produced by the Withering, from its branches to its boughs, dissolves when the Tumor is destroyed. Tighnari has no reason to worry; if the thorn truly came from the Tumor, there should be nothing left in the wound.
That does not stop the flutter of anxiety that the idea brings. He flushes it with clean water, just to ease his mind. Cyno sucks in a sharp breath.
"Reckless," Tighnari sighs. "You spent too long in there. Your body is still weak."
"I'll be alright, Nari," Cyno whispers.
Cyno could be bleeding out and still insist he's fine. The number of times he's dragged himself to Gandharva Ville while on death's door….
"Of course you will," Tighnari says. "Because I'm here."
And there it is: the Cyno Smile. It's not big, not much; just a small uptilt of his lips and a wrinkle in his eyes.
It still makes Tighnari's heart flutter like he's been handed the rarest flower in all of Teyvat. He shakes his head, bending down to press their lips together. His arms curl around Cyno's head as his lips move from Cyno's mouth to his nose to his forehead–
Which is unusually warm.
Tighnari lifts his head to replace it with the back of his hand. "You have a fever," he tells Cyno as he sits back up. Cyno tries to follow, but Tighnari pushes him back down.
"I feel fine," Cyno says as Tighnari returns to the wound on his hip.
"You said you were tired, right?" Cyno nods. "Let me know if it gets any worse. And I'm sorry."
"Sorry?"
Tighnari presses one palm over the wound and the other on his Vision. He's very, very, extremely careful when he draws upon the power of Dendro and passes it into Cyno's body. Cyno jerks with a grunt, head hitting the ground below him. His brow furrows in pain; black smoke rises from his clenched teeth.
Green sparks dance across Cyno's chest even when Tighnari stops. Cyno gasps and shivers. Tighnari's not sure if it's the Withering still in his body or the Electro that constantly pulses within him, but something had an extremely negative reaction with Dendro.
A handprint glows green on Cyno's skin. Tighnari covers it with a bandage.
"Sorry, sorry," Tighnari whispers, placing Cyno's head in his lap. He runs his fingers through silver bangs until Cyno relaxes enough to open both eyes. "Just a boost to make sure the Withering doesn't stay in your system."
"A warning, next time, would be appreciated."
"Hopefully you won't need it again," Tighnari soothes. "If the sages ever request anything like this again, come to me first."
There's an argument brewing in Cyno's eyes before they slide shut. He hums, letting his body relax, his breath even. He's not asleep, Tighnari knows; he'll likely stand again at the first sound of a returning soldier. Even if he does begin to doze, he'll trust Tighnari to wake him before they're discovered.
It is still worrying when he does not stir at the first approaching footsteps. Tighnari's ears flick to the left — one group is returning. He gives Cyno's shoulder a gentle shake.
"They're on the way back," Tighnari explains as Cyno blinks awake. Tighnari presses his hand against Cyno's forehead and frowns. "Your fever's gotten worse."
Cyno grunts. "I'm beginning to feel it now."
There's a snap! behind them. Cyno sits up, one hand on his head. Tighnari stands to help him to his feet.
The groups return with nothing to note. They return to the city together.
Inside the gates, Tighnari orders his Forest Rangers back to Gandharva Ville. Cyno dismisses his matra, then begins to head towards the Akademiya's ramps.
He's only taken one step when Tighnari catches his wrist and ignores the subtle tremble to it. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I have to file the report."
"No." Tighnari lifts Cyno's helmet to test his forehead. "You're going home to rest. Doctor's orders."
Cyno frowns. "The sages will be expecting me–"
"The sages can screw themselves. They wanted you to get hurt, show them the consequences of you being hurt ."
An uneasy look crosses Cyno's face. Tighnari tightens his grip. "Let me take care of you. Please."
A victorious thrill runs through Tighnari when Cyno presses his lips together.
"Fine," Cyno says, turning to the direction of his apartment. His gait is unsteady when he walks, every step made with the threat of failing. He summons his spear halfway there; it is the only thing keeping him upright when they arrive. He cannot lean on Tighnari, cannot be seen so dependent on Tighnari, especially not after this incident.
But Cyno is not infallible. His hands shake as he tries to unlock his door, to the point where Tighnari must take his keys.
When the door clicks shut, Cyno collapses onto Tighnari's shoulder. Tighnari tsk s.
"You were going to try for the Akademiya like this?"
"I get it, Nari," comes Cyno's muffled voice. "Just help me lie down."
It is not often that the General Mahamatra trusts someone enough to ask for their help. To be so trusted is an honor only few can claim.
"Of course, hayati," Tighnari says. He loops Cyno's arm across his shoulders and carries him through the den. He frowns at the sparse decor — he hates that Cyno has not made himself a loving home in the city. As much as Cyno loves Tighnari's little hut in the forest, he does not spend the majority of his nights there. It is spent here, within these barren walls, adorned only with a few of the drawings he's been gifted by Kaveh.
They reach the bedroom; Tighnari has Cyno sit on the bed as he removes his uniform. Gingerly, reverently, he sets the pieces on the bedside table — the helmet, the ornaments, the shorts — and replaces them with loose-fitted sleepwear. He tucks Cyno between the sheets, brushing the hair from his face.
"Let's get you some medicine," he says.
Tighnari is pleased to find that while Cyno's decor is lacking, his supplies are not. He sorts through glass bottles and packets of powders until he can find one that reduces fever. The closest is a near-empty bottle of cold medicine, used to mask symptoms rather than address what caused them. Cyno, workaholic that he is, has not let himself rest when he needs it.
He divides the medicine into two doses: one for now, and one for later if he needs it. He takes the dose to Cyno with a glass of water and helps him swallow it. When he stands again, Cyno grabs his hand.
"Stay," he whispers, his face pinched in pain, and Tighnari can never deny him.
"I'm here," Tighnari says, sitting on the bed and cradling Cyno's hands.
There is a moment where Cyno fights the sleep that he needs. But Tighnari starts to rub his hand, massages circles into his skin, and it is enough to lull him.
Tighnari doesn't know how long he stays by Cyno's side. His concentration is broken only by the rumbling of his stomach. He looks to the window to find an orange sky, colored by the fading sun.
He hasn't eaten in hours; Cyno likely hasn't since dawn.
But what to eat? Something light? Something hearty? The fever hasn't broken yet; it causes Cyno to turn and grumble in his sleep.
If only it were an ordinary ailment. Tighnari knows how to treat a cold, an infection, an injury.
The Withering is such a vicious mystery. The only thing that can combat it, outside of destruction, is high concentrations of Dendro energy. Tighnari could give Cyno another boost, but his body hums with constant Electro. It could have another bad reaction.
Tighnari wakes Cyno with a gentle press on his cheek. "Think you could eat?" he asks.
When he tries to answer, the only thing Cyno does is croak. His brow furrows, and he sits up, leaning on Tighnari. He gestures for the water.
"My head is swimming," he says after downing half the glass. His voice teeters on the edge of rough and tired. "But I am hungry."
A good sign. Tighnari kisses Cyno's temple. "I'll make something easy to keep down."
Cyno nods and lies down.
When Tighnari digs through Cyno's kitchen, he's pleased to find it plenty stocked, as well. There's chicken and steak, celery and rice, broccoli and yogurt. A handful of carrots, some cut fruit. Plenty of water, several fruit juices, half a jug of milk, and a few bottles of beer. There are potatoes, radishes, and a variety of herbs and spices.
At the back of the icebox, he finds a mystery stock that smells of vegetables and is half-frozen in its glass container. He pulls it out and takes it to the stove, an old recipe recalled from the depths of his memory.
A chicken soup, usually served with noodles, but can be poured over rice.
He keeps his cooking as quiet as possible, always keeping an ear tilted to the bedroom. He leaves it, several times, to check when the silence causes his anxiety to flutter, but Cyno still turns his head at every tiny creak of the door.
The soup finishes before the rice, bubbling and steaming on the stove. Tighnari cleans as he waits, wiping the counters and carrying used dishes to the sink. It's just something to do with his hands, something to do so he doesn't go and sit with Cyno for such a short time.
The rice is still sticky when it finishes. Tighnari fluffs it before spooning it into two bowls. He pours in the soup and places both on a tray to carry to Cyno's bedroom. He sets it on the floor to cup Cyno's cheek. Cyno tilts his head into Tighnari's hand.
"How are you feeling?" Tighnari asks.
"Tired," Cyno says. "Nauseous."
"You haven't eaten all day, have you?"
All Cyno offers is a weak smile.
Of course. Tighnari huffs as Cyno scoots closer to the wall to lean against it. When he tests Cyno's forehead, he finds that the fever has dropped, but not broken.
Was the medicine not effective? Tighnari's ears droop.
"I'm okay," Cyno promises as he takes Tighnari's hand, "just tired."
"You'd feel better if you didn't push yourself." Tighnari settles the tray over Cyno's lap. He mixes both bowls, saturating the rice with broth, before holding a spoon up to Cyno's lips.
"I can feed myself," Cyno says, but accepts the bite anyway. He takes the spoon after that.
Tighnari watches Cyno eat, his thumb sweeping across Cyno's knee, until Cyno pauses to tap his spoon against the other bowl. Tighnari huffs, but pulls the bowl into his lap, protecting himself from the heat with a pillow.
The chicken is tough, probably cooked too long before being added to the soup, and the seasonings don't quite pair well with the broth. But Cyno is eating it, and he's not complaining about the flavor, and he doesn't look like he's in danger of throwing it up.
"Thank you for the meal," Cyno says as he finishes the last of his broth. "It was very rice of you."
He must be feeling better if he's telling jokes. Tighnari rolls his eyes. "Got anything better?"
"Actually…" Cyno's brow furrows and he raises his hand to rub his forehead. "That's the only one. My head is still quite foggy."
Still foggy, still fevered. Tighnari frowns. "You need more medicine," he says as he stands.
"I hate that medicine," Cyno protests. "It makes me drowsy."
"You need rest when you're sick anyway."
"What about you?" Cyno asks, and it makes Tighnari pause halfway out the door. "You've spent your whole day taking care of me. You need rest, as well."
He's not wrong, Tighnari has felt the drag of exhaustion for hours. But Cyno comes first, Cyno always comes first. "I plan to rest," Tighnari says, " after you're taken care of."
He leaves to gather the final dose of medicine and a carafe of water. Cyno is still sitting when Tighnari returns and hands him the medicine. Cyno wrinkles his nose, but swallows it down with the fresh water Tighnari pours.
Once he's finished, Tighnari stands with the carafe in one hand and the tray in his other.
"Wait," Cyno says, catching his wrist. "Where are you going?"
"To the kitchen. I have to clean up, Cyno."
"It can wait." Cyno pouts. "I'm sick, remember?"
"It'll take ten minutes, promise," Tighnari says, but Cyno does not release his hold.
He rolls over instead, pulling Tighnari into the bed behind him. The tray crashes to the floor, Tighnari sets down the carafe just before it spills.
"Stay?" Cyno asks. "Just until I fall asleep."
Curse Cyno and his unnatural strength. Tighnari cannot get up, nor does he want to. His body relaxes, melts into the comfort of the bed and Cyno in his arms.
"Fine," Tighnari relents. He crawls into bed, working an arm underneath Cyno's chest to curl around him. Cyno presses Tighnari's palm to his lips.
"Love you," Cyno whispers.
"Love you too," Tighnari whispers back. He listens to Cyno's breathing, to his heartbeat, as it slows into sleep, letting it lull him.
When Tighnari wakes, he has no memory of falling asleep.
He also has no Cyno.
It's not surprising; Cyno is a master of stealth. Tighnari has often woken to an empty bed before, Cyno already dressed for work. Tighnari is not a heavy sleeper; his senses are far too sharp for that. It still amazes him that Cyno can expertly remove himself from Tighnari's arms with little disturbance.
There is a brief moment of panic when Tighnari remembers why he is in Cyno's bed.
And then the scent of oil and spice calms him.
The scent comes from the kitchen, where Tighnari finds Cyno at the stove, freshly showered and changed. He slips his hands around Cyno's waist.
"Feeling better?" he asks, peeking at the food in the pan — an array of vegetables in fragrant oil.
Cyno hums as he seasons them. "I have a good doctor."
Tighnari watches as Cyno splits the pan — half the vegetables he moves to a plate, the other half he sprinkles with enough baharat to make Tighnari's tongue burn just by looking. Tighnari stays wrapped around Cyno until he plates the other half and carries both to the table.
Perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned. Tighnari lets a mushroom sit in his mouth as he savors it. "No work today?" he asks halfway through his meal.
Cyno sweeps a pepper through the spiced oil in his plate, and Tighnari wrinkles his nose. How anyone could deal with that much spice isn't quite beyond him (he does have a rather sensitive palate) but it's still enough to turn his stomach.
"The sages wanted to hurt me," Cyno says with a grin before popping the pepper into his mouth. "Let them deal with the consequences of my being hurt. Besides," he gives Tighnari a lascivious grin, "I think I could use some more time with my doctor."
Tighnari rolls his eyes but leans forward to kiss him anyway.
It only burns a little bit.