Work Text:
Tighnari’s fingers move deftly, brushing Collei’s tunic as they twist and tug her curls into a braid. Her hair is so long now, she thinks, fiddling absently with the stray pieces that fall around her face. When she was younger, the Fatui chopped it short for sterility. Then, in the wilderness, long, snagging hair was a liability.
She no longer shudders at those memories. A warmth blooms in her chest at the realization. Now she’s here, at home, and her soft, clean hair falls halfway down her back when it isn’t tied up. Tighnari helps with that part often. Eleazar or not, she’d never quite gained a level of dexterity that allowed knots and braids to come easily.
But Tighnari never minds. Today, his hands move gingerly, taking their careful, gentle time to loop and tie the ribbon around the end.
“There,” he says finally. “You’re ready.”
It comes off as something between a statement and a question. Something coaxed around a lump in his throat.
Collei traces her fingers down the braid, feeling the smooth, symmetrical twists. At the end, her fingers meet a soft but not-quite-silky texture. She pulls the braid over her shoulder to peer at it.
An orange tassel ties off her braid, lined with gold and darker trim. She knows it instantly.
“This is…”
Tighnari nods. “From your first trainee uniform.”
By the time she’d graduated to a full-fledged ranger, she’d only had to get a new uniform once. She’d grown slowly, years of malnutrition taking their toll on her body. The day she and Tighnari had finally needed to buy new fabric from the Grand Bazaar, then sewed it together into something better-fitting, had felt like a milestone. She’d replaced the tassel on her Vision then, too. The new one looked nearly the same, save for neater stitches and a more intricate design. She hadn’t known Tighnari had held onto the original.
Tighnari sets a hand on her shoulder. Physical touch— another thing she’s adjusting to. Especially with family.
“You’ve come a long way, Collei,” he says in that matter-of-fact way of his. "I'm proud of you.”
Collei grins at him over her shoulder. “Thank you, Master. I know.”
“You’re going to do incredibly. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
“They’d have to go through me,” comes Cyno’s voice from the front of the hut. Collei’s braid whips over her shoulder as she turns to look.
Cyno leans against the doorway, one hand raised in greeting. “Kaveh, too,” he adds. “And Nilou. And Faruzan. Maybe even Hat Guy. Our Collei-flower has half of Sumeru City wrapped around her little finger.”
He strides across the room, planting a kiss between Tighnari’s ears and reaching to ruffle Collei’s hair.
“I just brushed and braided that,” Tighnari warns. Cyno’s hand quickly retracts.
“You have your things?” Cyno asks, helping Collei to her feet.
She nods. “In my room. Everything’s packed.”
He must pick up on something in her voice, because he gives her a look both sympathetic and encouraging. “We don’t have to leave right now. There’s some time left before dusk, if you need.”
If she needs to say goodbye again, or maybe thank you? Take a walk through the sticky rainforest air, sun on her face and the scent of lotuses in her nose? Curl inside her tree hollow, writing letters that finally, finally come to her with ease?
The idea is appealing. But that’s her fear talking. She’s not leaving forever, as much as this feels like the ending of something.
No. She won’t let it be an ending. It’s the beginning of the rest of her life, if she does it right.
If.
“I’m ready,” Collei says.
Tighnari waves at them until they crest the hillside and break the sightlines. Collei pictures him still waving, watching after their backs. She pictures him still waving when she returns to Gandharva Ville a failure.
No, she tells herself. Tighnari wouldn’t want her to think that way, so she won’t. Even if the hot tingle of preemptive embarrassment creeps further up her neck the closer they get to Sumeru City. To the Akademiya.
She distracts herself by fidgeting with the new ribbon on her braid. It’s nearly loose by the time they arrive at Cyrus’s doorstep.
“You’re in luck,” Cyno says brightly, eyeing the garden beside the house. “Just in time for ripe tomatoes. Cyrus’s tomatoes are famous, you know.”
“I know,” she says, sighing a little. “He’s told me.” Cyrus talks about tomato farming the way Cyno talks about Genius Invokation, which is to say, at any appropriate or inappropriate opportunity. Must run in the family.
Oh, well. It’s probably a love language or something. And fresh tomatoes are fresh tomatoes.
In a matter of minutes, Cyrus is offering her said tomatoes as he ushers them into the house. “Come in, come in! Make yourselves at home. What am I saying— this is your home now.” He gives Collei a friendly wink. She smiles, but her stomach churns. Not for long, something mutters in the back of her mind. Just until you flunk out and trudge back to Gandharva Ville in disgrace.
Cyno waves her toward the hallway. “My old room is this way.”
Collei has been to Cyrus’s place before, but pretty much only for dinner. She hasn’t explored much beyond the kitchen. So although she’s not quite sure what she was expecting from Cyno’s childhood bedroom, it wasn’t… this.
It’s just that the room is nearly bare. A bed. A shelf. A lamp on a desk. No books, no TCG posters, no Cyno.
Cyno must notice her frown. He sets down the bags he’s carried all the way from Gandharva Ville with apparent ease. “Something wrong?”
“Where’s the…” She waves her hand around. “Everything?”
He crouches down, unclasping the first bag and beginning to place its contents across the hardwood floor. “Right here. Don’t worry, we’ll get it all made up for you.”
“No, I mean, where are your things?”
“My things?” He shakes his head. “Collei, I haven’t lived here in years. Besides, I cleared out the rest to make room for you. It’s your room now.”
Okay. Okay, that makes sense. It’s just—
“Please don’t clear out my room in Gandharva Ville,” she says in a rush. “Or, or ask Tighnari not to, I just don’t want—”
“Hold on,” Cyno says. “No one’s going to touch your room, sprout. You’re always welcome in Gandharva Ville.” He looks her in the eye, putting on a serious face. “Tighnari won’t say it, because he doesn’t want to pressure you, but he’s not going to know what to do with himself with you around. You didn’t think he’d want you to visit?”
Collei’s shoulders slump a little in relief. “Uh, right, that makes sense. I was being silly.” She doesn’t bring up the other half of her fear— that she’ll need her old place back just as soon as she flunks out of the Akademiya.
“In the meantime, though, you get to have two different rooms of your own, which strikes me as a sweet deal. Now—” he starts rummaging through her bags again— “I’ll take care of the heavy lifting. You take a seat and start giving directions.”
They finish with the room faster than she expects. Cyrus is still making dinner when she and Cyno emerge, bags unpacked and belongings neatly and carefully arranged for her new life.
“You’ll stay to eat with us, won’t you, Cyno?” Cyrus asks.
Cyno grimaces. “Not you,” he reassures them quickly when Collei and Cyrus give him odd looks. “You just reminded me of the meeting I have to attend tonight. Mind-numbing stuff. I’d much rather be here, but duty calls.”
Collei nods. She’s gotten used to this part of life with Cyno. It would be nice to see him more, but she’s proud of the work he does. And, she realizes, they both live in the city now! The sour feeling in her stomach starts to settle. Just a little.
“Well, that’s a pity,” Cyrus murmurs after Cyno leaves, sweeping his gaze over the half-assembled meal in front of him. “So much food for only two people. Say, Collei, how would you like to invite Faruzan over? I’m sure she’s dying to hear about your course schedule.”
Oh, definitely, Collei thinks, a little amused and a little apprehensive. She doesn’t dislike Madame Faruzan— far from it! She’s just— well. She’s Madame Faruzan. But if she doesn’t talk to her about her studies now, she’ll probably end up getting cornered about it later. Oh, well. Might as well get it over with. Besides, Faruzan likes to give her candy.
Cyrus writes down the directions to Faruzan’s place, and sure enough, Faruzan shoves a handful of chocolates at Collei as she opens the door. Seriously, does she just carry those around?
“I expected I’d hear from you soon,” Faruzan says by way of explanation. “You’re starting at the Akademiya this semester, aren’t you?”
Collei nods sheepishly. Faruzan spends the walk to Cyrus’s house grilling Collei about her Darshan (Amurta), whether she’d ever consider switching to Haravatat (probably not), and what it would take to convince her (nervous shrug). The interrogation continues into dinner, where Faruzan spitballs possible Haravatat-Amurta collaborations.
“Just consider,” she exclaims, her fork-hand forgotten halfway between her mouth and her plate of butter chicken. “A refreshable text interface using plant tissue, stems, perhaps, to form words. It would function via Dendro energy, of course, and perhaps that same energy also keeps the plant tissue alive. Just think of the efficiency.”
“That could fall under the second cardinal sin, though, right?” Collei asks, more curious than nervous. She doesn’t have any inclination toward illegal experimentation (for obvious reasons. Plus, Cyno would ground her for eternity.), but Tighnari has taught her a healthy curiosity toward the unknown. “Although, now that I think about it, isn’t everything tampering with life and death? When you think about it, just by eating this chicken—” she gestures with her fork— “I’m making my life longer, right? And the chicken is, you know. Dead. It’s not like I think I should go to jail for eating chicken, but, I don’t know, there could be an argument there. And from what I’ve seen, the Akadmiya likes arguments.”
Faruzan cackles. “And that kind of insight is why you must consider studying under me. Tell her, Cyrus.”
Cyrus just shrugs, but Collei sees a gleam of amusement in his eye.
“I don’t think you’d really want me as a student,” Collei says, laughing a little. “I mean, I’m a pretty slow learner.”
The energy in the room shifts. Faruzan and Cyrus look at each other, then at her. Collei gets the feeling she’s said something terribly wrong, though she’s not entirely sure what.
“I’m not trying to, you know, undersell myself,” she clarifies hastily, waving her hands. “I don’t think I’m dumb, I just…”
Cyrus leans forward on his elbows, looking intently at her. Collei tries not to gulp.
“I mean,” she rambles on, not really sure where she’s going with this anymore. “I’m still at a fifteen-year-old’s reading level. I barely passed that part of the entrance exam. And my scores still weren’t good enough for Haravatat.” She swallows. “Sorry, Madame Faruzan.”
“Were you interested in Haravatat?” Cyrus asks.
“Well, not really, but…”
“And you did pass,” Faruzan says, with an air of pride, as if she’d personally taught Collei everything she knows. “So you’ll simply join Amurta, and then we’ll carry out our revolutionary collaborative project!”
“Collei,” Cyrus says. “For how long now has Tighnari been teaching you to read and write?”
“Um, five years, ish?” She frowns. “It’s hard to say, because I had to take a lot of time off when my Eleazar was bad.”
“Okay.” Cyrus leans back. “Five years of learning to accomplish a fifteen-year-old’s reading level.”
Collei stares at her plate, tugging at the end of her braid again. He doesn’t have to just rub it in like that.
After a moment of silence, Cyrus continues, sounding a little incredulous. “Collei,” Cyrus repeats. “How long do you think it takes a fifteen-year-old?”
She looks up. Cyrus gives her a raised-eyebrow look that she’s seen a million times before on Cyno’s face. Faruzan waits expectantly, arms crossed.
“Well, when you put it like that,” she mutters.
“He does put it like that, and so do I,” Faruzan announces. “Do you know how difficult it is to learn a language from scratch? I should know.”
“Alhaitham knows, like, ten, at least,” Collei responds weakly.
“Yes, well, Alhaitham has nothing better to do than find ways to out-do his roommate,” Faruzan declares. Collei chokes. Cyrus apparently tries to cover his laugh with a cough, then gives up and begins roaring with laughter.
“I’m serious,” Collei protests. “It’s not just Alhaitham. Compared to pretty much anyone else I know, I’m just not all that smart. It’s a fact.”
“Has it occurred to you,” says Cyrus, “that the sample size of people you know consists disproportionately of grown adults with degrees?”
“Well,” Collei gets ready to protest, “that’s just—” She pauses, then falls back in her seat. He’s got her there. “That’s a good point,” she finishes quietly.
“It is, isn’t it?” Cyrus agrees. “Now, finish your chicken. There’s more where that came from.”
After dinner, as she helps Cyrus with clearing the table and washing the dishes, Collei realizes her braid has finally fallen out. All the tugging and fiddling has made her new ribbon fall out. She’s got to break that habit.
In the meantime, she shrugs awkwardly, craning her neck to the side to try to keep her hair out of the dishwater. After she nearly runs a fork through it like a hairbrush, she gives up.
“Cyrus?” she asks, drying off her hands, then holding up her ribbon. It’s the end of the day and her hands are already tired from dishwashing. There’s no way she’s tying anything, hair or ribbon, on her own right now. “Can you help re-braid my hair? Tighnari usually helps. but…”
“Ah,” Cyrus says. He stares at the ribbon in her hand. “I would love to, I absolutely would. However…”
“He doesn’t know how,” Faruzan calls from where she lounges in the living room. Cyrus had refused to let a guest have anything to do with the housework. “Come here, Collei. I’ll take care of it, and Cyrus can have a free lesson. Can you sit on the ground?”
She takes a spot on the rug in front of Faruzan, who painstakingly walks Cyrus through the pattern of a basic braid. He takes a few cracks at it, but the results are so lopsided that Faruzan eventually gives up and braids it herself.
“Keep practicing,” she tells Cyrus on her way out the door. “I don’t want to see a hair out of place on this young lady’s head on her first day, do you hear me?”
Cyrus chuckles as he closes the door behind her. He turns to Collei, sighing mournfully at Faruzan’s sleek, elegant handiwork. “You see, Collei? There’s plenty of things even Akademiya-educated old geezers take time to get the hang of. You’re not slow. You’re just starting out.”
Collei supposes she can’t argue with that.