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The sun was a brilliant, unforgiving star in the vast blue dome of the sky, its light reflecting off the endless expanse of water that surrounded the sleek Fontaine-bound vessel. For Tighnari, Chief Officer of the Forest Rangers, the journey had begun with a spark of keen anticipation. He stood at the railing, his large, expressive ears twitching with interest as the beloved Emilie speaks with a mind of a scientist and tour guide.
“...and the hydroponics there are quite advanced,” Emilie was saying, her voice as smooth as the waters of Fontaine. “They've cultivated a subspecies of Marcotte that blooms underwater. I've brought some sketches to show you.”
Tighnari’s tail gave an eager flick. “I look forward to seeing them. The cross-continental comparison of floral biology is a woefully under-documented field. Your expertise is a rare gift.”
“A collaborative research effort. Provided you both don't start a botanical debate that lasts the entire voyage.” Cyno interjected from Tighnari's other side, his tone dry, but his sunset eyes softened with affection. “Remember, we are technically on a romantic and diplomatic liaison. The General Mahamatra does not 'geek out' flowers.”
“Says the man with a deck of Genius Invocation TCG in his hip pouch,” Tighnari shot back with a playful smirk.
Cyno’s eyes narrow slightly with a flicker of challenge before delivering his rebuttal. “A deck is not a symptom of 'geeking out', it is a handy tool for analysis. Unlike flowers which are rooted in their place, you could say my interest is a portable foliage.”
Tighnari's ear twitched. “That, was even worse than usual.”
Before Cyno could reply, Emilie lets out a giggle. “Oh that's clever, Général. Portable foliage for your portfolio of cards. A botanical pun within a tactical justification.”
“You have a keen ear, Mademoiselle Emilie. It is a pleasure when one's wordplay is both heard and comprehended.” Cyno replied, giving Emilie a small respectful nod. 'Finally, someone with a sense of wordplay appreciation.'
Tighnari facepalms and lets out a sigh. “Don't encourage him, Emilie. Please. For the sake of our entire journey. I'm conducting a field study on cross-regional floral adaptation, and he's making card game puns.”
“The wordplay is a supplemental intellectual exercise. It keeps the mind sharp.” Cyno defended with pride.
Emilie smiles with agreement. “It certainly keeps us occupied on our voyage, cher Général.”
Cyno blushes and clears his throat, his eyes now staring at the horizon, much to Emilie’s giggly amusement, and Tighnari shakes his head with a fond expression. Indeed, their romantic and diplomatic liaison was going to be a long journey.
But eventually, that steady rocking, which Tighnari had initially found soothing, was beginning to shift in character. The boat pitched over a larger wave, and the horizon line dipped and swayed in a way that was no longer rhythmic, but nauseatingly erratic. A faint sheen of sweat broke out near Tighnari’s eyebrow. He swallowed hard, his keen senses suddenly working against him. The smell of salt and engine oil, once mild, now thick and pungent. The constant motion became a direct assault on his equilibrium.
“Tighnari?” Emilie’s voice cut through his growing discomfort. “You’ve gone quite pale. Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m… fine,” he managed, though the words felt like a lie on his tongue. His stomach gave a violent, unmistakable lurch. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, the deck undulating beneath his feet. He clutched the railing, his knuckles turning white. “It’s just… the motion. It’s more pronounced than I anticipated.”
“Motion sickness,” Cyno diagnosed, his sunset eyes sharp with concern. “Your inner ear is conflicting with the visual signals. A common ailment.”
Common, perhaps, but it felt overwhelmingly dreadful. Tighnari’s breath hitched as a fresh wave of nausea, hot and acidic, rose in his throat. The vibrant blue of the sea was now a threatening, dizzying void. He stumbled, his body tensing as he fought a losing battle against the inevitable.
“I’m... I’m going to be...” he gasped, unable to finish the sentence. He leaned heavily over the railing, his body trembling with the effort of staving off the inevitable. And in the same moment, two warm presences closed in on him from either side.
On his left, Emilie’s gentle, perfumer’s hands found him. One settled between his shoulder blades, the other is placed on his chest to keep the balance. “Shhh, it’s alright, mon chéri forest watcher,” she murmured, her voice soft and reassuring. “Don’t fight it. Let it out. We’re right here.”
On his right, Cyno’s touch was different but no less comforting, as his hand pressed firmly against Tighnari’s spine; a solid, grounding weight. His other hand came to rest on Tighnari’s shoulder, his thumb stroking a soothing rhythm over the fabric of his uniform. “Breathe, Tighnari,” Cyno instructed, his tone calm and commanding. “Just breathe through it. We have you.”
Caught between their steadfast support, Tighnari decided to stop holding back. With his gloved hands on the railing, his tail lowered & his ears flattened, he leaned over the side, taking a deep breath as he finally began the process of vomiting, throwing up the contents of his stomach into the sea below. It was a wretched, undignified experience. But the combination of hands on his back, comforting words, and loving presence of his loved ones; had made the process of vomiting much easier.
A couples of waves later and the process had finally finished. There was only a small bit of relief, but due to being on a boat, the underlying sickness hasn't gone away. Left feeling hollow and drained, Tighnari felt two soft presses against his shoulders. Emilie pressed a light, lingering kiss to his left shoulder blade. While Cyno brushed his lips against Tighnari’s right shoulder in a gesture that was surprisingly tender.
The act was so unexpectedly intimate that a fresh, different kind of warmth spread through Tighnari. He stayed slumped over the railing for a long moment, panting while being loved and supported by his partners.
“Feeling any better?” Emilie asked softly, her hand still moving in those calming circles.
Tighnari took a deeper breath. The world was still swaying, but the urgent, clawing need to be sick had passed. He nodded weakly, straightening up slightly, his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and profound gratitude.
“Yes,” he croaked, his voice rough. He looked from Cyno’s steadfast gaze to Emilie’s empathetic one. “Thank you. Both of you. I… I apologize for the spectacle.”
“There is nothing to apologize for,” Cyno stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. He produced a small canteen of water from his belt. “Here. Hydrate slowly.”
As Tighnari accepted the water, Emilie smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sometimes the most important growth is learning how to weather the storm. Preferably with people who won't let you faceplant into the ocean.”
Tighnari gives a weak smile in response while letting himself be supported with their touch and presence. He felt a wave of affection so strong it nearly dwarfed the lingering nausea. The boat ride was a challenge, but being cared for by them so completely, made the journey not just bearable, but deeply meaningful.
“Let's get you to the cabin. The General Mahamatra commands it.” Cyno said, leading Emilie and Tighnari into a warmer quieter spot of the boat. Once they're inside and Cyno shuts the door. The cabin was small and the bed was too small for the three of them, so they used it as a couch instead.
They remove their shoes and prop up their pillows against the wall as the three of them get into position. As Emilie wraps her arms around Tighnari and gently pulls him into her embrace, he can already detect her familial scent of Lumidouce Bell in Emilie’s perfume became a soothing balm against the churning sea.
Caught between them and the humiliation of getting sick began to dissolve in the realm of cuddles, with Emilie and Cyno both having their arms around him. Tighnari instinctively nuzzled against Emilie's neck to catch more of the scent of her perfume, while Cyno placed his cheek against Tighnari's shoulder so Tighnari can remain anchored by his solid presence.
“No matter the spectacle, I'll always love cuddling you.” Emilie murmured, her voice remained soft and careful due to her mouth near his vulpine ears.
“Is that so?” Tighnari mumbled, his voice still rough. “Even when I'm green and smell of sick?”
“Especially then,” Emilie affirmed, nuzzling gently against him. “It reminds me that even the brilliant Forest Watcher Tighnari is, endearingly, mortal. It makes moments of caring for you all the more precious.”
From Tighnari's other side, Cyno makes an affirmative hum of agreement. His hand gently resting against Tighnari's ribcage. “The sentiment is shared. Your well-being is our priority, regardless of the circumstances surrounding it.”
Their replies, their sentiments, their hold. Even when he was an absolute mess, they were still holding him. Tighnari closed his eyes, focusing on Cyno's heartbeat against his back and Emilie's breathing against his side and near his ear. Even when his stomach didn't agree with the sea, he couldn't imagine being anywhere else at this cherished moment. The boat could rock all it wanted, he was feeling perfectly loved.
But the gentle moment that was filled with Emilie’s affections and Tighnari's relaxation was perfectly timed for an interruption that only Cyno can provide. “It seems, that your stomach decided to make a... wave of protest.”
There was a beat of absolute silence. Tighnari, who was melting into the realm of cuddles, went completely still. He then let out a long suffering sigh. “Really? At a time like this?”
“It was a current situation.” Cyno replied, his sunset eyes glinting with triumph.
Emilie, meanwhile, let out a small choked sound of half-laugh, half-gasp. Her body shaking from the force. She held onto Tighnari for support, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm down. “You are impossible, mon Général.” She said, her voice laced with affection. “Absolutely impossible.”
The cuddling continues for several more minutes until there was a bell ring, notifying that they are reaching land.
“Looks like it's time to get off.” Cyno said, his voice in a soft tone. Tighnari hums in agreement, torn between wanting to reach land as soon as possible and wanting to remain tucked in embrace between Cyno and Emilie.
The three of them reluctantly pull away, getting their shoes on before heading out the door. They then thank the Captain as Emilie lead her two partners out on solid ground. “Welcome to Fontaine, Tighnari. How are you feeling?”
“Infinitely better,” Tighnari replied, his tail giving a grateful swish as the colour on his face already returned. “The world has now ceased its attempts to throw me overboard.”
“Good.” Cyno replied with relief as well as affection. “And I believe Mademoiselle Emilie here, promised to share you some sketches for your collaborative botanical research.”
“Indeed. But before we do that,” Emilie placed her hand on Tighnari's forearm and her other hand on Cyno’s. “Let's get our dear Forest Watcher away from the sea and into a proper garden.”
As they walked away from the harbour, Tighnari felt the last remnants of his sickness fade away completely. It was replaced by the air of land, the dependable presence of his two loved ones right by his side, and the certainty that no matter where their travels took them, their love will forever be his home.