Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Most days, Tighnari is able to ignore the sounds of Sumeru City. Although the noise is always obnoxious, he’s grown used to them fading into a low thrum in the background of his mind. He still gets headaches frequently, but they’re dull and hardly worth his attention.

Focusing on them would indubitably make them worse.

Tighnari knows this from experience.

Yet, some days the city is too loud for Tighnari. Merchants call out the virtues of their wares over the loud clanging sound of steel on iron as eremites stomp loudly through their headquarters. Far below the Akademiya campus but not far away enough for Tighnari’s sensitive hearing, students spill out of Puspa Café bleary-eyed after spending sleepless nights pouring over their research. Nearby, eremites and other mercenaries as well as the occasional group of celebratory Akademiya students stumble out of Lambad’s drunkenly yelling and laughing and crying.

Tighnari hears it all and misses the natural sounds of the rainforest — gentle and soothing to his ears. When it all grows too much for him to deal with, Tighnari travels to Pardis Dhyai. Most of the time, he also has research or various side projects that he wants to check up on in the Amurta gardens.

Sometimes, it’s just to escape.

Everything about Sumeru City and the Akademiya exhausts Tighnari save his research projects, his thesis, and the raw pursuit of knowledge itself. The necessity of having to work with other researchers both within his Darshan and outside of it have enlightened Tighnari to the fact that many Akademiya students are the opposite — they are exhausted by the academic pressure but revel in the camaraderie of other students.

While Tighnari doesn’t agree with the system of the Akademiya — especially using knowledge as currency — learning suits him. By contrast, interacting with others drains him like nothing else. Even the high desert heat is less exhausting. The lone exception to this rule, outside of his family, is Cyno, who hilariously began studying him due to suspicion of academic fraud and simply never left once his investigation was complete.

The stone floor is cool against Tighnari’s back as he looks up at the stained-glass windows into the night sky. When he closes his eyes, he can feel the dampness of the air in the gardens and hear the shrill cries of nearby messenger birds. When he opens his eyes, the stars greet him, slightly warped through the glass but twinkling brightly above Pardis Dhyai and its lack of light pollution.

Although he appreciates their beauty and function — he uses stars frequently for navigation at night — Tighnari has never understood the practice of reading the stars. Everyone he has met from Rtawahist has either been purposefully and infuriatingly obtuse in their speech patterns or oddly masochistic due to their rigorous training methods while attempting to communicate with Irminsul.

Tighnari doesn’t need the stars to know that Sumeru’s Irminsul is sick.

A soft footfall interrupts his thoughts and Tighnari smiles. Worn sandals tap against the stone steps rhythmically, stumbling once and then picking up again with a slightly quicker pace. As they approach the doorway, Tighnari closes his eyes again, breathes deeply, and smiles.

“Hello General Mahamatra.”

Cyno laughs and it’s louder than usual. Tighnari blinks and Cyno’s face is hovering over his, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Cyno’s breath smells sickly-sweet, like Zaytun peach liqueur.

“Tighnari.”

Cyno says his name in a soft sigh and Tighnari swallows back the sudden wave of want that hits him. He feels Cyno’s rough hand and callused fingertips slip between his own as he pulls Tighnari up into a sitting position on the floor.

They’ve been dancing around something for the past few weeks, he and Cyno.

Tighnari despises the uncertainty of it all.

“I thought I’d find you here I was…at that party for Khajeh’s latest protégé.” Cyno wrinkles his nose with disgust and waves his arm in the air as he says this. Tighnari notes the half-empty liquor bottle in Cyno’s hand.

The party must have been spectacularly boring. Cyno rarely drinks at Akademiya functions despite how much he loathes the ostentatious nature of them, preferring to keep his thoughts as clear as possible. Tighnari was hardly Cyno’s first internal investigation — Cyno takes it upon himself to go as far as to ignore some of the sage’s projects in order to better serve as Judicator, interpreting and enforcing the Akademiya’s policies.

“It was loud,” Tighnari says simply.

Thinking about the truth of Cyno’s career also gives Tighnari a headache.

“Come outside with me,” Cyno says, his hand warm and rough between Tighnari’s fingers.

While Tighnari has no use for the stars, Cyno sees them as romantic — silly for someone of his stature and area of study but Tighnari can’t help but find it charming due to how at-odds it was with his projected appearance — and tugs Tighnari up of off the floor, babbling as he leads them outside.

They settle on a small patch of grass near the gardens and lay facing the sky. Without releasing Tighnari’s hand, Cyno passes him the bottle and Tighnari takes a large swig, wincing at the taste.

“I forgot that you can’t hold your alcohol well,” Cyno teases, pressing his index finger into Tighnari’s cheek.

“You’re one to talk,” Tighnari says darkly. He gives another sharp wince at the flavour while Cyno hiccups loudly and giggles.

The humid night air settles over them like a blanket. Cyno still hasn’t let go and has begun stroking the palm of Tighnari’s hand with his thumb. Tighnari shudders and desperately hopes his ears and tail aren’t twitching too much. He can already feel a drunken haze clouding his judgment and his cheeks flushing a brilliant red colour.

They pass the bottle between them until it’s empty and trade stories from the Akademiya, their childhoods, everything.

Tighnari thinks he could talk to Cyno for days and never be bored.

“And because of this, one time I asked my father to take me to the desert during one of his expeditions,” Tighnari says. “Sadly I did not inherit my ancestors’ tolerance for hot weather.”

Cyno laughs and, to Tighnari’s annoyance, pokes his ears.

The dampness of the grass soaks through Tighnari’s Akademiya standard robes. He idly remembers that he had taken off his gardening gloves earlier and hopes that someone doesn’t take them, although Pardis Dhyai is hardly populated. The only people who came to the gardens were Amurta students and now Cyno.

He feels another blush rising in his cheeks and squirms a bit as Cyno’s thumb is hot against his palm and Cyno’s other hand is still stroking his ears.

“You’re a desert dog, but you’re also human,” Cyno whispers like it’s a secret truth of the universe.

Cyno uses this tone of voice when he’s leading up to a particularly terrible joke and Tighnari braces himself despite being warm and flushed with pleasure, nearly panting embarrassingly under Cyno’s ministrations.

“In a manner of speaking,” Tighnari says slowly. “My ancestors are biologically-adjacent to the ancient canine race called the Valuka Shuna. They served the Scarlet King.”

“Would that make you…a paradog?”

Cyno’s hand stills in Tighari’s hair as he bursts out laughing at his own joke.

“You know like paradox, paradog. Because you’re a desert dog but also human—”

Tighnari lazily reaches over with his foot — it’s difficult because he’s surely drunk at this point and they’re both still lying on the ground — and kicks at Cyno’s shins, interrupting his friend’s slurred rambling. He blinks and Cyno’s face swims into view above him, blocking out the starry sky with a bright smile.

The jackal cape that Cyno almost always wears is somewhere in the grass — probably covered in dirt and dew at this point — and without it, Cyno looks boyish and free. Sometimes Tighnari forgets that they’re close in age due to Cyno’s position, even if he is himself ahead in his presumed graduating class.

Cyno is beautiful like this, Tighnari thinks and nearly says aloud.

“You’re blocking my view of the stars,” is what Tighnari ends up blurting out instead. His ears and tail are twitching and he knows that Cyno can see how his eyes dropped to Cyno’s lips before looking back into the general’s glowing orange eyes.

“May I?” Cyno asks, licking his lips. He’s hardly subtle, but then again neither is Tighnari himself, he thinks with all the clarity of one who has drank nearly half a bottle of liquor with very little tolerance for it.

Tighnari somehow feels the wetness of Cyno’s lips on his before he registers what is happening. A soft sigh that both sounds exactly like Cyno and wholly unlike Cyno hangs in the air between them and all of the blood that isn’t in Tighnari’s cheeks rushes to his stiffening cock.

Biologically he knows this is impossible but that’s what it feels like anyway.

“Hunh.” Tighnari runs his tongue over his teeth when Cyno pulls away. They’re gasping into each other’s mouths, the sweetness of Zaytun peaches and sourness of alcohol on their breaths. “That was surprisingly pleasurable.”

Cyno hiccups again and collapses on top of Tighnari, giggling and rutting against him. Tighnari wraps his arms firmly around Cyno’s back and presses their foreheads together. Cyno’s white hair is in his eyes, stuck to his skin with sweat.

Tighnari can’t help but shudder against him, experimentally moving his thigh between Cyno’s legs. He feels Cyno’s cock, hard and twitching against him, and groans quietly, quickly closing his mouth as if he can swallow back the sound as it echoes in the night air.

“Is that really all you have to say?” Cyno asks, still grinding against Tighnari and panting. Tighnari notes that his voice is hoarse, as if he’s trying to affect some semblance of dominance. Instead it comes out desperate and wanting, ringing in Tighnari’s ears.

“I think…it requires more rigorous testing.” Leaning upward, Tighnari nips at Cyno’s lower lip and flushes when Cyno moans loudly.

“You like that,” Tighnari says slowly as if he’s cataloguing Cyno’s responses — perhaps he is — and Cyno nods almost instantly, cracking his head painfully against Tighnari’s.

They separate with simultaneous cries of pain and Tighnari kicks at Cyno’s shins again.

“What would the sages think if they saw you right now?”

Cyno snorts. “You think they don’t get up to shit with whoever they want? They’re the worst, ‘Nari. The worst.”

Tighnari frowns and reaches again for Cyno, placing a more gentle, open-mouthed kiss at the corner of his mouth. Something shifts in Cyno’s eyes and they crinkle softly at the edges.

“I don’t think I want to say at the Akademiya,” Tighnari whispers. He knows that Cyno has suspected this for a while, but a rush of relief still fills his ears as he speaks.

“I want apply my research practically, as a Forest Watcher.”

Cyno smiles and pulls him into a tight hug.

They lay there until their breaths slow and grow more rhythmic in sleep.

Chapter Text

It takes weeks for Cyno to make his way from Sumeru City to Aaru Village. The journey is so familiar to him at this point that it has become routine. Nights grow colder past Caravan Ribat and the wall and he plays out mock card battles and writes out jokes for Tighnari in a small notebook to pass the time while waiting for sandstorms to subside.

Cyno finally tracks down the small party of eremites and their rogue researcher long past the Wall of Samiel, another few weeks of travelling through the desert.

They always run into the desert as if Cyno will never find them there.

He wonders if they’ll realize that the desert is only more foreign to them, not to him. If anything, he’s more comfortable anywhere past the wall, knowing the route of caves and hidden water sources between the eddies of sand that are constantly moving in the storms, rearranging nearly all landmarks to an untrained eye.

“You and your thugs have no idea how much I’ve sacrificed!” the dastur yells while stumbling backwards and falling onto his ass gracelessly.

Scoffing at “thugs,” Cyno plants his staff into the sand next to the researcher who flinches and moves away.

He supposes that there is a large amount of students and driyosh that see him and the other matra this way. Some of the sages still grumble about how force needs to be used at all, bemoaning the mercenary presence of the eremites in Sumeru City and the matra as a governing body alongside the sages themselves.

“Greater Lord Rukkhadevata would have never wanted violence to enforce knowledge,” Sage Naphis had told Cyno curtly when Cyno had been granted his position as General Mahamatra.

Sage Naphis’ own methods of using knowledge as currency to leverage favour, even more than the Akasha system, is something Cyno despises. One of the reasons he had not fought Tighnari all that much when Tighnari left the Akademiya completely was due to how Sage Naphis had treated him and the other matra with disdain.

The eremites travelling with the rogue researcher are quickly dispatched.

Cyno barely remembers the name of the dastur cowering in front of him. The white lion of Kshahrewar is on the researcher's uniform hat and sand blows up from the ground, obscuring the embroidered hem of his Akademiya robes. He is wanted for stealing another person’s thesis and not only passing it off as his own, but adding the results of related but illegal experiments.

It’s all remarkably boring.

Although Cyno doesn’t know this dastur’s specific circumstances, he does know exactly how much the student has sacrificed. It’s no more than any Akademiya student has sacrificed, and it many cases, far less than those who have risen through the ranks fairly. If pressed, or annoyed enough into saying more than a few words to his investigation subjects, Cyno will lecture them as succinctly as possible on why shortcuts are not afforded to anyone and how it destroys the nature of the Akademiya itself and everything the institution stands for.

The Akademiya works both as the premier research institute in all of Teyvat as well as the government of Sumeru because of the power of knowledge and the Akasha system set up by Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, providing knowledge to all. When one tries to exploit that system for their own gain — either to cut corners while doing their own research or simply to gather allies to help push theses through quicker than others — it ruins the integrity of the Akademiya for all.

Cyno hasn’t given this speech in a long time.

Not after Lisa Minci’s departure and certainly not after everything with Collei and beginning a relationship with Tighnari.

Sighing as the dastur continues to tremble in the sands, Cyno thinks of how the only interesting investigation he has done in the past few years is his observation of Tighnari for reasons wholly unrelated to preserving the integrity of the Akademiya.

Whatever that means to him now.

“Save your energy,” he tells the researcher, who is haphazardly gaping at him in shock. Cyno sighs. He’ll probably have to give the student a rag to tie over his mouth to prevent any more sand from getting into his lungs. For all of their intelligence and ambition, rogue students rarely prepare for the desert climate.

“It’s a long walk back,” Cyno says. He doesn’t bother to keep the disdain from his voice. “If you have any final words, save them for judgment day.”

The researcher swallows visibly and stands up, knees shaking against each other. He follows Cyno without question when Cyno turns to lead them both out of the desert.

When they pass the Wall of Samiel into Caravan Ribat, Cyno sends a messenger bird to Gandharva Ville.

With fewer people and far less noise than the Avidya rainforest, entering Pardis Dhyai undetected is more difficult than entering Gandharva Ville without notice. The only people present are a handful of Amurta students and a few stray eremites, hoping to luck out on a rare but lucrative mission from one of the wealthier Amurta researchers as an assistant.

Cyno has never snuck up on Tighnari successfully, but relishes in Tighnari’s smirk and familiar line: “You can never fool my ears.”

Yet, Cyno tries every he stops by the Forest Watchers’ station in Gandharva Ville and whenever they have the time to make plans to meet at the Amurta research gardens.

It’s become a game between the two of them and Cyno finds it reassuring more than anything else, despite the fact that he’s not successfully snuck up on Tighnari once.

In his growing uncertainty about his role in the Akademiya and the Akademiya’s influence as a whole, Cyno has Tighnari.

This time is Cyno’s worst attempt yet and Tighnari says as much when Cyno approaches the doorway, not even bothering to look over his shoulder while he calls out, “General Mahamatra.”

Cyno rarely hears overt concern, or any excess of emotion, in Tighnari’s voice. This small reminder that Tighnari cares about him and his well being calms Cyno. He feels the tension of the past few months slowly leave his body, dissipating into the hot, humid air of the Pardis Dhyai greenhouse.

It returns a moment later when Cyno walks towards where Tighnari’s is crouched in front of a bright green flower and sees a Khaenri’an ruin defender next to him.

“Tighnari! Get back!”

Holding his polearm in front of his body, Cyno twirls it so it can act as a shield, hopefully deflecting the ruin defender’s upcoming attack.

Behind him, Tighnari laughs loudly.

He turns to glare at Tighnari, who hasn’t even bothered to draw his bow.

“I’m sorry,” Tighnari says as he wheezes. “It’s too funny.”

The ruin defender takes a cautious step backwards, tilting its body to the side almost as if it’s confused.

Cyno stands his ground.

“Stand down, Cyno,” Tighnari says, waving his hand in the air and still laughing dryly. “This is Karkata. He’s my new research assistant.”

When Tighnari finishes his explanation, Cyno stares at him silently and passes him a wineskin full of Zaytun peach liquor that reminds him of myriad nights at Pardis Dhyai, both of them chafing at their responsibilities enough to admit that they wanted to see each other.

“Well? Say something,” Tighnari says after he drinks, wiping the excess alcohol from his lips.

Cyno swallows.

“I don’t know where to start,” he says hoarsely. He doesn’t bother to hide his anger. “You discovered an illegal research lab and a banned mechanical experiment and instead of reporting it, you burned it to the ground and kept the experiment as your…pet?

“My research assistant,” Tighnari corrects.

“Your research assistant. You know I should report you, right? This isn’t the same as conveniently turning my head when you give classes on the rainforest in Gandharva Ville. This is forbidden research. For fuck’s sake, Tighnari, I’ve tracked down Akademiya students for less than this!”

Bristling defiantly, Tighnari drinks again and glares at him, tail swishing furiously behind him. A bead of alcohol sits on his upper lip and his eyes sparkle with fury.

It’s an old argument: upholding the Akademiya and making it a better place by serving the spirit of its laws versus open defiance in pursuit of knowledge. It’s their argument. Cyno really doesn’t want to fight about it again, not when he’s still trying to sort through how his own feelings on the Akademiya are changing.

Fortunately, Tighnari doesn’t seem to want to have this argument either. Maybe he’s just as exhausted as Cyno. Instead, Tighnari sighs loudly and drains the last of the peach liquor. Cyno wants to poke at the blush naturally rising on Tighnari’s cheeks.

“What would the sages think if they saw you right now?”

Cyno snorts aloud and Tighnari looks at him with a smirk. A Rishboland tiger roars happily in the distance. It’s answered by another, softer cry of a tiger that cuts through the cloying smell of flowers and the hothouse humidity.

Cyno has never dealt well with the damp rainforest air, just as Tighnari will faint in the dry desert heat.

“You remember Abattouy, right?” Tighnari asks after they ease into a more comfortable silence.

Nodding, Cyno remembers a tall thin man with homemade glasses. He was intelligent and ambitious and like many, was kicked out of the Akademiya after pursuing illegal experiments and research. Cyno hadn’t even been on the judicial council on the day of Abattouy’s sentencing, called to follow a different researcher who had violated another rule.

“I took a photo with him once,” Tighnari continues, pointing at a small pile of photographs on one of the short stone walls in the garden. “I didn’t remember doing it until I brought Karkata here. He recognized Abattouy in the photo.”

“You took photos with a lot of people,” Cyno says.

If the ruin defender had truly recognized its master, then it’s a remarkable breakthrough that can never be shared or built upon with new knowledge.

Tighnari laughs again. “They always wanted to. I never saw the point.”

The photographs are smooth between Cyno’s fingers. He sifts through them until he finds the one he wants.

“What about this one?”

Their fingertips brush against each other as Cyno hands Tighnari one of the kamera photos. Tighnari tangles them together, holding Cyno’s hand firmly as he looks at the glossy paper in his hand.

“We both look miserable,” Tighnari says.

“You know, life is a lot like photography,” he tells Tighnari, rushing through the end of his joke before Tighnari can interrupt him. “You just have to use the negatives to develop.”

Tighnari kicks him in the shins and Cyno laughs.

Chapter Text

It has been well over a week since the traveller left and Haypasia still twitches violently in her sleep. Tighnari doesn’t know what he can do for her outside of keeping her safe in the Pardis Dhyai greenhouse.

Drawing a blanket over her body, he remembers a time where Collei was scared that Haypasia was dead because she was so still when she slept. Whatever she saw when connecting with the Irminsul or the stars during her Satyavada Life retreat broke her mind.

Tighnari hears Cyno on the wind well before Cyno makes his way up the path to the greenhouse. The General Mahamatra has a pleasant footfall to Tighnari’s ears — soft, yet with the small metallic clang of his sandals against the gardens’ stone walkway.

Leaving Karkata to watch over Haypasia in her fitful sleep, Tighnari walks out onto the upper balcony.

“General Mahamatra,” Tighnari says as Cyno walks into view below him. “You’re here early.”

Cyno rolls his eyes and scowls but Tighnari sees his lips turn up in amusement at the corners of his mouth.

“General Watchleader,” Cyno responds, voice hoarse with a slight lilt of sarcasm.

Resting his hands on the stone railing, Tighnari looks out over the gardens as Cyno approaches. He feels Cyno’s hand in his, fingertips as callused as ever with the smooth, sanded leather crossed over his palm.

“You arrived sooner than I had expected,” Tighnari says. It’s a clear day and he can see well past the valley of Vimara Village all the way to Devantaka Mountain in the distance.

Cyno grunts and squeezes his hand tightly. There’s a nervous energy around Cyno. Tighnari presumes that this is due to how rarely Tighnari calls for Cyno specifically.

Usually he leaves their meetings up to chance and within the span of a few weeks, rather than calling for Cyno specifically.

"Recently, my master wrote several letters to me, asking me to return to the Akademiya and assist him with his research,” Tighnari begins.

He’s honestly unsure as to how to start this conversation because there’s so much that he doesn’t know — only suspects or assumes — and he cannot tell Cyno anything of substance.

“Hasn’t he already asked you several times before?” Cyno asks. His tone carries something else — a hint of another question and no small amount of uncertainty.

Tighnari nods and squeezes Cyno’s hand before releasing it, turning to face his partner directly.

“Yes, but there’s something off about this most recent batch of letters,” Tighnari answers.

He knows that Cyno won’t find it weird that he’s noticed these small details about Sage Naphis. Naphis himself isn’t much-liked by the other sages and has always been known as a bit of an oddball. Still, the words sound silly in Tighnari’s ears as he says them — far less empirical than he’s used to.

“The handwriting and tone are both familiar, but some details have been omitted…” Tighnari says slowly. "My master will occasionally leave a few dots on the back of the letter. One dot means that he wrote the letter on a sunny day, and three dots stand for a rainy day. This has been a habit of his for many years. But I didn’t find any dots in his recent letters.”

Cyno hums and nods minutely, a gesture for Tighnari to continue.

“I believe…Something may have happened to him,” Tighnari says.

It’s difficult to admit this, considering that it’s based on an odd, off-handed observation and his own sense of unease around Sage Kajeh’s arrival in Gandharva Ville not too long ago and his request on Naphis’ behalf. Even then, it had been off-putting that Naphis had not come himself, not because Tighnari felt slighted by it, but because it was so out-of-character with what he knows of his master.

If anything, Naphis would have come to the rangers’ station and screamed at Tighnari himself.

“I get it,” Cyno says. “Since you are always at Gandharva Ville, you would like me — someone already working at the Akademiya — to investigate this matter, right?”

Shaking his head, Tighnari takes Cyno’s hand in his again. The warmth radiating from Cyno’s fingers is soothing, even through Tighnari’s archer’s gloves.

“I’d like to ask you to do that for me if you can keep yourself safe.” Tighnari narrows his eyes and stares at Cyno for a moment. It’s only now that Tighnari is beginning to realize how widespread this entire operation may be. “Please withdraw immediately at the first hint of danger.”

Cyno nods. “I can do that…but I have a feeling it won’t be that simple.”

It rarely is. Tighnari thinks, but doesn’t say anything aloud. Cyno probably knows most of what he is thinking anyway.

"The Akademiya has been working on a big project. I’m not quite sure what it is, but your master might be involved with it,” Cyno says. This confirms what Tighnari had presumed about Naphis. At the very least, Naphis is likely involved in this project and unable to send letters himself, which further raises the question of why someone else would send letters on Naphis’ behalf.

Tighnari finds it suspicious that they want him specifically for this project and want him badly enough to write false letters from his master in order to convince him.

“If the higher-ups really are hiding something, then it will be difficult to remove myself from the situation once the investigation starts,” Cyno says with a small sigh. “If the situation becomes critical, I’ll leave the Akademiya. If you don’t see me there for an extended period, that’s your cue.”

Blinking, Tighnari stares at Cyno again, who nods slowly and deliberately in response. Tighnari can’t help but lean in closer towards Cyno so their noses are almost touching.

“Alright, we’ve got a plan,” he whispers. “I’ll stay at Gandharva Ville to support you.”

“If that scenario comes to pass, you must be extra vigilant and be wary of any messages or direct request from the Akademiya,” Cyno says. Tighnari feels Cyno’s fingers tighten around his in a strong grip.

“I must say, I didn’t expect a warning like this from the General Mahamatra.” He can’t help but tease Cyno a bit although Cyno is visibly not in the mood for it and glares directly at him warily.

“Being loyal to the Akademiya doesn’t mean blindly doing whatever the sages say,” Cyno bites back.

It’s the old argument, now with an added layer of intrigue and confusion. Tighnari doesn’t want to release Cyno’s hand again and by Cyno’s tight grip, he feels the same way.

“I know what I’m doing,” Cyno says. “On that note, aren’t you also being quite distrustful of your alma mater?”

Snorting, Tighnari shakes his head and laughs dryly. “The Akademiya, yes. But my master is a man of integrity. Even when I was a student, I was worried that he’d get in trouble for sticking to his beliefs. I suppose he’s lucky to have lasted so long.. but in the end, it still caught up to him.”

Cyno hums and turns towards the scenery. A fog is rolling in from the Vimara Valley.

Although Cyno is not looking directly at him anymore, Tighnari is struck by the look in Cyno’s eyes.

There is the usual burning intensity, made doubly fierce by the colour of Cyno’s irises and his near-permanent frown. Yet something else flashes across them, even as Cyno licks his lips and his pupils dilate with obvious desire when Tighnari strokes his thumb across the palm of Cyno’s hand.

Tighnari recognizes it as a tiny flicker of nervousness, despite never having seen that in Cyno’s expression before.

Cyno is genuinely scared.

“Trust in your sense and experiences,” Tighnari says, still somewhat floored that Cyno is anxious about anything. Recognizing that this means that Cyno knows more about the situation internally but doesn’t want to say, Tighnari continues to stroke the inside of Cyno’s palm.

Cyno hums, but doesn’t say anything in response.

“You may not have my ears, but no one knows the desert, or the Akademiya for that matter, better than you, Cyno.” Tighnari allows fondness to creep into his voice, knowing that Cyno will respond to it immediately.

As Cyno’s arms wrap around him gently, Tighnari closes his eyes. He feels a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth and the chill of the fog in the air along with the fluttering of Cyno’s eyelashes against his cheek.

The fog settles, obscuring the lower gardens from their view. Tighnari kisses Cyno soundly, sucking on Cyno’s lower lip until the general whines and flushes red.

“I should go,” Cyno whispers, releasing Tighnari and stepping back. His jackal hood hangs oddly in the fog’s dampness. It makes Cyno less impressive in a good way — less commanding and more relatable.

“Keep yourself safe,” Tighnari repeats. “I love you.”

Tighnari rarely says this aloud, not out of any reluctance or embarrassment but because, having said it once, he knows that Cyno knows how he feels. He also knows that Cyno reciprocates his feelings.

They love each other and that’s that.

Still, sometimes Tighnari wonders if part of him doesn’t withhold these words out of a perverse pride in how Cyno’s mouth falls open, lips parted in wonder and a blush high on his cheeks when Cyno hears Tighnari say it.

Chapter Text

Rahman’s part of the plan goes far more smoothly than Cyno had anticipated. He had expected the arrogance of the sages and the Akademiya at large, but had worried about actual injury to Rahman and his team.

Fortunately, Rahman had taught his group how to feign injury and, once properly “captured” by Cyno, a toothless ill-temperament that easily convinced the Akademiya guards of their arrest.

A pang of guilt strikes Cyno as he walks towards the centre of Sumeru City to meet up with the others. He often had relied on this particular flaw of the Akademiya, all while defending the institution itself at its core.

Thinking back to several arguments with Tighnari, Cyno wishes he could take back some of the things he said. Despite believing them at the time, he should have attempted to judge Tighnari’s words more carefully and from Tighnari’s perspective as much as possible.

How many more cracks in the Akademiya’s foundation would he have found had he listened to Tighnari more closely?

“Alright, everyone is here.”

The smug voice of Alhaitham interrupts his thoughts. Cyno seethes at the sound of it.

Alhaitham may be his ally for this particular mission, but that doesn’t mean that Cyno has to like him personally at all. He doesn’t think he’ll ever enjoy being in the pompous scribe’s presence.

“How did everything go?” Dehya asks. “Any luck with your missions?”

Dehya is Alhaitham’s opposite in most every way. Cyno finds himself studying the soft smile on her face — at odds with the harshness of her overall appearance and battle prowess. Like Candace, Dehya has every reason to hate all of them and yet doesn’t, separating individuals from the monolith of the Sumeru Akademiya.

Cyno admires them both for this. His innermost thoughts are often volatile, despite the veneer of balance and calm he assumes in order to do his job well.

“Let's each report back one by one. I'll start first,” Alhaitham says. “We have made the necessary modifications to the Akasha Terminal. In addition, the props required are also ready.”

Cyno nods approvingly, both at what Alhaitham is saying and additionally the scribe’s lack of description, considering that the prop in question is an alternative canned knowledge capsule. Part of him still cannot believe they’re having this meeting in the open, in the centre of Sumeru City, although passers-by seem generally uninterested. Behind them, he hears a call from a local rug salesman haggling with an older man about the price of a decorative runner. Hopefully their voices simply blend in with the crowd noise.

“I'll go next,” Dehya says, bringing Cyno’s mind back to the current conversation. “The traveller and I went to Pardis Dhyai. The situation was a bit complicated, but we found Tighnari. Unfortunately, he was wounded during a fight.”

The words strike Cyno, shaking him to the core of his being. It’s suddenly all he can do not to grab his chest in pain as Dehya’s statement echoes in his head.

“Unfortunately, he was wounded during a fight.”

“Unfortunately, he was wounded during a fight.”

“Unfortunately—”

“...Who was behind it?” he asks between gritted teeth.

“Uh... Well, that's the tough part,” Dehya says. She looks at the traveller for their input while Cyno clenches his fists at his sides. “What should I say, traveller? ‘The Fatui’ or ‘The Balladeer?’”

Swallowing, Cyno tries not to move so no one can tell how much this news affects him.

“Let's go with ‘The Balladeer,’” the traveller says quickly. Cyno can tell that their curiosity is piqued due to his rigid response and answering snort of contempt.

Or perhaps they simply know that he’s at least friends with Tighnari and would be worried about the forest watcher’s injury.

Clearing her throat, Dehya continues. “After some back-and-forth, we confirmed that The Doctor has left Sumeru by boat. He has something urgent to attend to back in Snezhnaya. So, we've successfully removed The Doctor from the picture. Also, Tighnari's already resting, so he'll be okay.”

“Good,” Alhaitham says as if he cares about Tighnari’s well-being. It’s an uncharitable framing, but Cyno can’t erase images of Tighnari bleeding out on the stone steps of Pardis Dhyai from his mind. He doesn’t have time, nor does he particularly want to give Alhaitham the benefit of the doubt regarding anything, save his intelligence in formulating their plan.

“I get it. Since you are always at Gandharva Ville, you would like me — someone already working at the Akademiya — to investigate this matter, right?”

“I’d like to ask you to do that for me if you can keep yourself safe. Please withdraw immediately at the first hint of danger.”

“I can do that…but I have a feeling it won’t be that simple.”

It had been Tighnari’s wherewithal that had made Cyno investigate any of this. He had promised Tighnari that he would stay safe and now Tighnari is the one who is injured due to his own inadequacies.

“Oh! Tighnari also asked us to tell you this message!” Paimon yells over Cyno’s memories. “‘Trust your own senses and experiences.’”

The way Paimon says this tells Cyno that she has no idea of the gravity of the words or what they would mean to Cyno.

Still, they make him smile. Despite his coarse and sensible way of speaking, Tighnari’s voice sounds warm in Cyno’s head as he remembers Tighnari saying them.

“Alright,” Cyno nods. “I'll remember that.”

“I put my Akasha terminal in my ear for the first time in years,” Tighnari says when he sees Cyno at the entrance of the greenhouse. “Are you proud of me?”

Frowning, Cyno walks faster until he’s nearly running across the gardens to where Tighnari sits, his tail wrapped around himself. On a small dais next to him, Haypasia is presumably sleeping.

“They told me you were injured,” he responds, stopping in front of Tighnari, who smirks down at him from on top of Karkata.

Images of Tighnari bleeding on the stone still appear when Cyno closes his eyes.

In front of him, Tighnari looks tired and drawn but happy. As Tighnari shifts to jump off of Karkata, he winces and Cyno immediately steps forward, helping him down.

“I’m fine,” he says unconvincingly, grimacing and holding his hand to his side. “It was just a bit of lightning.”

“I heard,” Cyno says, trying to keep the worry from seeping into his own voice in anger. “Divine lightning.”

From Tighnari’s raised eyebrow, he’s unsuccessful.

Fortunately, Tighnari knows Cyno well enough not to respond with some quippy retort, like he would with another member of the Akademiya. Instead, Cyno feels the warmth of Tighnari surround him as the forest watcher draws him into a rare hug. It’s somehow softer and more desperate than the way their fingers had tangled together when Tighnari had told him about his fears around Sage Naphis that had started this entire investigation.

Cyno breathes deeply into Tighnari’s neck, inhaling warmth and the smells of soil and ozone. He hears Tighnari draw a sharp breath and feels Tighnari’s facial muscles twitching, presumably with pain.

“Sorry,” Tighnari says, offering a rare apology. “I’m still not fully healed.”

Cyno growls and shakes his his head before taking Tighnari’s hand in his. “And you told me to withdraw at the first sign of danger.”

Tighnari laughs, loud and hoarse and genuine, and then winces, squeezing Cyno’s hand. Behind them, Haypasia breathes heavily and steadily.

“I wore mine too, the Akasha, for the first time in years,” Cyno says.

“I remember a time where you kept pushing me for Collei to wear one, so she would learn to read more quickly—”

“And I stand by that statement,” Cyno says, squeezing Tighnari’s hand back in ire. “It would have helped greatly improve her literacy at a quicker pace. The amount of time she would have been on it would not have affected her cognition and she would have had you forcing her off of it at the earliest possible time.”

Shrugging, Tighnari bumps Cyno’s shoulder with his own. Cyno is immediately taken back to the early days of their relationship — sneaking off to meet at Pardis Dhyai, getting drunk on Zaytun peach liqueur and trading wet kisses under the stars.

“Tighnari…” Cyno starts, trailing off as he looks up at the night sky through the green-tinted glass. “If I had become like Grand Sage Azar—”

“That would never happen.” Tighnari’s voice is firm with a dangerous edge to it. “You are far too attached to your own principles, and while those usually overlapped with the Akademiya, they are yours above all else.”

Humming, Cyno leans his head back even further. His neck begins to hurt and his head is still swimming with thoughts of the sages, Nahida, and even Taj. “I don’t think Grand Sage Azar intended to become as arrogant as he was in the end. He thought he was furthering the endeavors of human knowledge.”

“Even if he didn’t, his idea of knowledge was skewed,” Tighnari says, his face impassive and unflinching. “It did not allow for other interpretations and even overlooked the God of Wisdom herself. I don’t think your sense of justice is nearly as rigid as that, even when you did defend the Akademiya.”

Cyno hums again and leans his head onto Tighnari’s shoulder. “But if I had—”

“I would have knocked some sense into you,” Tighnari says.

Cyno’s eyes flutter closed as Tighnari’s lips meet his own. Tighnari sucks on his lower lip and it takes him back to their first series of kisses again, flushed and sour with alcohol as they rolled around in the grass outside.

Now, Tighnari is much more calm but equally needy in his arms.

When they break away from each other, Cyno’s face flushes with pride at Tighnari’s wide-eyed expression and swollen lips as they pant into each others’ mouths.

“I would continue this, but the traveller and Paimon are outside,” Cyno says, his voice still low with want. He reaches up and strokes Tighnari’s ears, shivering at how Tighnari shudders under his fingertips. “And I have another favour to ask of you regarding Gandharva Ville.”

Tighnari chuckles and presses his forehead to Cyno’s. “You’ve been asking a lot of me lately, former General Mahamatra.”

“You should stop being so reliable and trustworthy, General Watchleader,” Cyno retorts. Swallowing his want for later, he squeezes Tighnari’s hand one more time before releasing him and stepping away. “Thank you, Tighnari,” he says.

Tilting his head to the side with a smirk, Tighnari nods.

Cyno knows that Tighnari understands.