There was still some sort of … hesitance in Thalia’s movements even as Cyran assured her that everything was fine. Her shoulder’s slumped - there was some sort of internal war brewing beneath her single visible eye, one which Cyran was not privy to. As if she was still holding back… Cyran didn’t blame her. He was a stranger, offering advice, no matter how unwanted, that had clearly triggered something in her. Nevertheless, he forced himself to relax, leaning against his chair and offering her a small smile. His fingers thrummed against the table with the nervous energy of someone who was just as unaccustomed to allowing himself comforts… much less the kind words and actions of a stranger.

Though his pose was awkward, he did his best to look like a workable model for Thalia to draw. He moved with the care of someone who wanted to give his all in support of the hobbies and passions of others, even if he was not particularly experienced with them. Thalia was no exception - he wanted to do his best to make sure that she would be able to draw.

“Oh… are you sure you just want me to relax? I’ll do my best.”

He gave her possibly the most awkward thumbs up she’d ever seen before settling back down again. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of sketches on parchment while she flipped through the pages, almost all missing their eyes. An odd detail, but it seemed like it was part of her artistic process. Even if he didn’t understand, it made her art unique, at the very least. Personal to her.

“You’re quite talented.” He remarked. “Are you self taught?”

She paused when she flipped to a blank page, enthusiasm beginning to wane as she glanced up at him. Reassuring him that it was okay if he didn’t really want to do this. Cyran blinked, taken aback at the sudden sheepishness.

“Thalia, I’m quite honored you asked to draw me. I hardly think I’m the most scenic model out there, but there’s a lot of beauty in being able to do what you do. The ability to create…” He smiled, somewhat shy. “There is nothing kinder in this world. I myself even keep portraits of my loved ones with me. They help me always remember.”

He cleared his throat.

“That is to say, drawings are a piece of reality immortalized for you to always have with you as a memento. I would be overjoyed to be part of that, if you’d like.”

Every single word, clear and sure. He meant every bit of what he was saying with firm, gentle conviction.

Thalia had only drawn three people without obscuring their eyes, all of which were quite frankly dead to her now in more ways than one. She was used to the world passing her by, especially in the past couple decades, so people she didn’t know whizzed by as well for her. For Thalia, those people that she wish she knew were documented in these pages, their identity misconstrued and lost to the memory of the parchment. Watching Cyran though? Completely different experience.

“Yeah I’m super self-taught, guess you could tell. I didn’t start until a decade or so ago so I’m still learning.” Thalia explained, twirling the charcoal betwixt her thumb and index finger. “I'm glad you like it though! Thank you."

If Thalia could look up the definition of the word “dad”, she was certain that the image of Cyran giving her the most awkward thumbs up on the face of the planet would be front and center. It was certainly burned into her retina. She had to stop herself from laughing, as much as she really wanted to. Such a strange man, how socially awkward was one man?

Then a thought teased at her mind. He kind of…reminded her of him.

Thalia shook her head quickly, reaching out to grab her drink and gulp down more than half of it. Unwanted thoughts begone! She really needed the liquid courage, even if it was rancid and burned all the way down. Readjusting herself, Thalia sighed, nodding her head and smiling. “Okay! If you’re sure, then just, like, sit comfortably. Talk if you want to. If you want me to stop just yell at me or something.”

Then Thalia was getting started, beginning to absently sketch the outline of Cyran’s body, her eye darting up and then back rapidly, falling into a similar trance lulled by the alcohol. “You say you have mementos or whatever of your loved ones, yeah? You mean family, friends, lovers and stuff?”

Thalia paused to smudge some of the black dust into the corners of the page. She listened intently, her body warm and her mind abuzz as she looked up at Cyran for reference. Thalia was intent and focused, yet she still managed to make conversation, tapping her foot as she hummed to a little tune she could only hear in her head. It sounded suspiciously like Scarborough Fair, but that was neither here nor there.

“You’ve got a lot of talent!” Cyran praised. “Especially with only a decade of practice… one of my kids draws too, though you both have very different styles. As someone who doesn’t know a lot about art, it’s refreshing to see.”

All of a sudden, Thalia reached over and started chugging down her drink - liquid courage? He thought that might be the case, though for the entirely wrong reasons. It seemed to him that she was nervous about drawing in front of an ‘audience’ of sorts. There was no need for her to be nervous… Cyran would love it no matter what she drew. He had a small collection of pictures that the kids from the orphanage had drawn for him, hanging on the wall of his office. It was a wonderful thing to watch their creativity in motion.

He tried his best to lean back in his seat and not appear stiff while Thalia started sketching. She seemed to have a good idea of what she was doing, the movements intimate enough to her that she didn’t need to pay too much attention to it as she moved. Eventually, she struck up conversation once more, and Cyran’s forced posture melted into something a little more familiar.

“Family and friends, yes.” His face reddened somewhat, though it would be difficult for Thalia to tell if it was from the subject matter or the alcohol in his system. “No lovers… I’m not the kind of person for relationships.” Idly, his thumb twisted the ring on his finger, a seemingly blatant contradiction to that statement. The truth was, he wasn’t married. Not anymore. A widower with too much baggage to ever find himself in a relationship, even with the woman he loved. “Mostly my kids. I like to keep mementos of the people closest to me, and pictures are a good way to remember.”

He used to keep them in the office of his orphanage until that was destroyed in the quake - Del had been the one to save the photos for him, and he’d kept them on his person ever since. Part of him was tempted to pull them out and show them to Thalia, but that was probably a bit too much for someone he’d just met this evening. Besides, he had to stay still while she drew. Thalia was the picture of focus, still listening to him speak while she stared at her canvas and moved her pencil back and forth.

“There are just some things that are too important to forget. Even if they’re not in your life anymore… you’ll always have some piece of them, you know?”

That last part was spoken with a melancholic smile. He was looking at Thalia, but he didn't quite seem to see her.

Thalia hums in response, engrossed in her work as Cyran talked. He had a certain awkward charm, which is why she told him to speak while she worked. Some people were better off staying quiet, but Cyran was a decently social individual who liked a good conversation. Thalia could make assumptions about him all night long, but if he was nothing else, Cyran was an awkward sweetheart. She almost hated how much she appreciated it.

“Kids, hm?” Thalia inquired, a small smile on her face. She added some depth into the slight downward slope of his nose, scrunching up her own nose to concentrate. She was struggling to get the shading right, her hands already black and chalky. “So you’re a dad dad, huh? I wouldn’t peg you as the type if I just saw you across the bar I won’t lie.”

At Cyran’s next words though, much like everything else he had said tonight, Thalia had to stop before her fingernail tore a hole in the page. Her arm paused almost abruptly, floating above the page as she ran through what Cyran had just said again. This guy…she didn’t know him, right? There was no way, she’d probably recognize him straight away if she did. The only people she would know were from Eclipse City, and she didn't like anyone in Eclipse City. Thalia peered over the paper at the moon elf man, her eyes lingering a little too long to be brushed off as her trying to imprint his face to memory.

Because Thalia’s gaze was sad. There wasn’t a smile, nor a frown that accompanied the look in her eye. It was like as Cyran saw through Thalia, she saw through him as well. Her face fell for just a moment, staring at the moon elf man with a look of pure bewilderment, her face partially covered by the journal in her arms. Even if they’re not in your life anymore… Her hand gently brushed up against the ribbon around her neck. He was right.

What Cyran could see was the crestfallen expression of what appeared to be Thalia, yet all her energy had suddenly shut off. The only thing to liken her presence to was a confused child’s. Her hands nearly dropped the stub of charcoal on the ground, only tightening her grip on it last minute.

What the hell was she doing? Thalia’s mind scorned her; it felt like a hot blade had sunk between her shoulder blades, melting the flesh and keeping her on high alert. Whatever vulnerability that seemed to peek through her walls was shut out in an instant. She needed a distraction. Thalia looked down at her paper, the sketch barely even started. Obviously, duh. But what part had she even been on?

A barmaid passed by, and Thalia quickly flagged her down. “Another round of…whatever the hell this was please.” Another sickeningly sweet smile is thrown this barmaid’s way, and she hands the tankard over. Once she disperses, Thalia goes back to drawing, as if nothing had ever happened at all. Because nothing did happen. At all.

“You’re right. You really never know what you’re missing until they’re just gone.” She says this with a laugh, mostly a humorless huff through her nose as her smile remains. “Kinda sucks, doesn’t it, that some people can just like, be a part of you and then suddenly they’re just not anymore?” A scratch across the paper, not enough to tear but enough to be a little harsher than the previous strokes. “Load of complete dog shit if I’ve ever heard some. Makes you feel like you’re cursed when they just keep leaving.”

It was uncertain if Thalia felt these specific things would resonate with Cyran, but she did manage to take a deep breath in by this point, working on blending his features.

Cyran shifted in his seat, trying to keep himself still while they conversed. He huffed out a quiet laugh. “I’m not surprised to hear that. I don’t exactly look the type.” Idly, his hand drifted up to touch his cheek, just under the eyepatch that rested over his eye. Reminders of the horrifying person he’d become over the years. “… But yes, I’m an actual father. It was once my dream to be a dad, you know.” He wasn’t sure what propelled him to share so much with a young woman who he’d been speaking to for less than an hour. Perhaps it was the whiskey, that had muddled his thoughts, or the fact that he felt relaxed around her. “Life took me in a different direction, obviously.”

The path of an assassin, a contract killer.

A world where kindness and care meant nothing.

An odd choice for a man who seemed to hold so much softness in him, but it was unfortunately, the only thing Cyran was good at. Capable of taking away a life just as readily as he was at fostering one. No, a man like him didn’t deserve to call himself a father. But his kids… the children he took care of at the orphanage, and the ones that he’d taken in over the past year, for most of them, he was all they had. And he would be damned if he didn’t give them all the love he could.

The scritch-scratch of charcoal against paper came to an abrupt stop, causing Cyran to glance up. Thalia had stopped drawing, glancing up at him over the paper with a look on her face that he could only describe as melancholic. Lost. Her grip slackened on the piece of charcoal clutched between her fingers - Cyran raised a hand to catch it just in case, but she managed to keep hold of it. The silence that ensued felt deafening.

Cyran abandoned his pose without a second thought - he leaned forward, moving to put a hand on her shoulder, so alarmed at the sudden change of move that he forgot about manners and comfort levels. “Thalia? Are you alright? I didn’t… I didn’t upset you, did I? I’m sorry.” Lunala, he’d just been messing up everything tonight, hadn’t he?

The young woman ignored him, flagging down a waitress and ordering more drink. Cyran’s brows furrowed, unsure what to say. Especially when she managed to speak again, bitterness dripping from her every word like a venom, and all the experience of someone who had been poisoned to accompany it. Cyran pursed his lips - he understood the feeling she described well. Perhaps not exactly in the same way, though the sentiment was the same.

In the end, you were always the one left alone.

In the end, you were the one left to pick up the broken pieces.

In the end, you were the one that felt undeserving of love.

All that, until you decided it was just better for everyone if you stayed alone.

“I know what you mean.” He sighed. Though it was impossible for most to tell his age by looking at his face alone, it was all too easy for Thalia to look in his eye and see every single one of his centuries - the heaviness in his gaze, the exhaustion that never quite seemed to leave him, no matter how relaxed he was at the moment. He opened his mouth, as if to say something more, offer more advice, though Thalia’s crestfallen attitude before gave him pause. The last thing he wanted was to cause her any more anguish.

“People leave. And sometimes you’re the one leaving. But those people will always be a part of you, just as you are them. That’s why I carry around their pictures.” He offered her a small smile, squeezing her shoulder where he still had his hand on it. “And that’s why what you do is so beautiful. The people in your life are never truly gone so long as you carry those precious memories.”

And sometimes, that had to be enough.

Well now look what you did.

This thought was one that frequented Thalia’s mind, though it had been years since she had thought it in the context of another person. Usually it was in the context of her breaking something, losing something, or hurting herself from doing something stupid. The last time was when she got the scar on her jaw, from when she had upset a hoodlum on the streets of Eclipse City and he decided to use her face as a canvas. Thalia couldn’t blame him; she was the one not paying attention on her way home. And when she had made it back, her mother had screamed herself hoarse, crowing about how much Thalia had ruined her face.

But this was new, because Cyran was concerned. It was such a genuine expression and gesture, the hand on her shoulder warm and inviting and scary. So scary. It took her several seconds to react, but suddenly Thalia flinched away at the contact, her hand accidentally smudging the definition of Cyran’s cheek the wrong direction and gasping. Her heart was thrumming in her ears, fear sinking into her. He did nothing wrong, how could he? He was just an everyday person, doing friendly everyday person things like expressing concern for a stranger at a tavern. Obviously, damn it all. How did Thalia manage to dig a hole so deep tonight? What were the gods playing at? What was their game?

What did she do this time?

“No. Nothing…nothing’s wrong!” Thalia said at last, struggling to focus. At some point the barmaid had come back with her drink, eyeing her in confusion before leaving. “Sorry. You did nothing wrong. Nothing at all. I’m just…a bit tipsy. Can’t focus.”


Despite this observation though, Thalia reached for her drink. She was clearly no stranger to alcohol, but she clearly hated the taste by the way expression soured every time she took a swig. Thalia actually ended up coughing, her body rejecting the alcohol despite her best efforts to ignore it. She covered her mouth with her palm, obscuring her face with the journal so Cyran didn't have to see her face.

Her coughing fit was short lived, her eye watering as she laughed behind her hand. Embarrassment, that was what she was feeling, even in her nigh drunk state. She wasn't completely washed, but she had to stop herself from talking. Thalia didn't usually remember how she was when she got drunk, usually getting drunk in the privacy of the night on her lonesome. Usually she woke up in a sorry state, with her hair a mess and leaned against a wall somewhere. Right now, she would probably be unable to recall much of tonight if she continues drinking as she does.

"I sincerely apologize, seriously," Thalia managed, laughing a bit behind her hand. "I just...gods, you're really nice, y'know?" Thalia had abandoned her drawing for the moment, trying to refocus on Cyran's face. He was starting to look blurry, mirroring the portrait. The journal sat in her lap, pointing at him with her charcoal stick. "Are you sure that you're not a spy or something?" Thalia's head was spinning, mostly due to her thoughts, but she was blaming the alcohol.

"You..." Thalia's face fell, any loose accusation faltering. Was Cyran a fool? He couldn't be. Every single thing he had said was too perfect, too painful. And it was so stupid that she wanted to hear more, because what else did he know? How was he so gentle? Thalia would deny that she was crying that night, but nothing could ever deny the look in her eye. Is this what Cyran meant by saying he couldn't help but father others? Is that what fathers are supposed to do?

"I'm sorry, I know I'm making you uncomfortable. I can finish it just give me a moment, you just remind me of someone I really hurt. It's hard to think right now." It doesn't make sense. It's not fair.

For all he was trying to comfort her, Cyran only seemed to be making things worse. Thalia flinched away from his touch, choking on her drink as she tried to calm herself. Insisted that there was nothing wrong, she was fine.^[1]

The rune on Cyran’s cheek flared up.

“Oh…” He withdrew, still moving with slow, gentle movements, as not to startle her. He glanced at the alcohol, the grimace on her face as she took a swig. Something was wrong. He was torn between leaving her alone, as his presence was causing serious hurt, and staying with her to make sure she wasn’t alone. In the end, the latter won - perhaps Cyran wasn’t the best person for her right now, but he was the one that was here. Because whatever Thalia was going through, she was most certainly not fine. He waved down a bartender, whispering his next request to her, which she noted down and scurried away to fill.

A few moments later she returned with a glass of water and a slice of chocolate cake, both set on Thalia’s table. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.” As she was frantically trying to force herself to calm, Cyran spoke slowly, and in a low volume. “Drink some water, put some food on your stomach.” He offered her a small smile. “It’s always nice to finish off a heavy conversation with something sweet.”

He blinked.

“A spy? Whatever for?” He shook his head. It was funny, really - technically, she wasn’t incorrect. In fact, it was work for one of his contacts that had brought him through the Marsh Flats today in the first place. But the fact that her first assumption was that he was kind to her because he was trying to glean information from her broke his heart. “No… Thalia, I promise I’m not here to spy on you. And you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

Each word, spoken with firm conviction - they were the truth. Cyran had met all kinds on his travels, but never any that appeared as fragile as her, wearing a strong face to hide something so vulnerable underneath. Or perhaps Cyran himself was the one making her upset. That suspicion was only confirmed when Thalia voiced that he reminded her of someone she’d wronged in the past.

He pursed his lips and let out a soft sigh, trying to choose his next words carefully.

“No - it’s clear that I’m the one making you uncomfortable. I never intended to cause you such distress…” Why had he done so in the first place? Offered her so much advice until the point he’d driven her closer to the bottle in an attempt to forget everything? He hadn’t wanted to examine it, but…

“The truth is that you remind me of someone I’ve hurt, too.” He admitted. “My daughter. My birth one.”

Marlow. His songbird.

Cyran took a breath - his demeanor was still gentle as ever, though there was lingering sadness beneath the surface. “I left her. It was not my choice, but I should have fought harder for her sake.” But instead, in his exile, he’d run. Run from Moonglade, run from it all - left it behind like a fucking coward. “Not a day goes by where I don’t think about her. I bottled all that up… my guilt, my love. I thought I didn’t deserve to even speak her name, so much as hold her memory. She must hate me by now.”

He thought of her face, the child he hadn’t seen in ten years. Her smile, her bright laughter.

“My point is…” Cyran shut his eyes, willing away the tears. Perhaps Thalia was not the only one who preferred to mask her emotions. “I don’t know where I was going with this. I’ve had a bit to drink myself. I’m sorry I’ve stirred up such unpleasant memories for you. I’m sorry you still carry these burdens. I wish I could say that they get lighter.”

Ten years, and they still felt as heavy as the day Marlow was torn from his arms, and he was cast out into the streets.

But he’d also learned over the years that isolation didn’t cure these wounds. Drink and silence spent re-examining those thoughts only left them open to fester, unable to heal properly. Healing came with good company. Healing came with laughter with strangers met in odd places that would become far closer companions than you could ever imagine. Healing came with life, and refusing to succumb to those scars.

“Then let’s not think.” He said. “Let’s not talk about the past anymore. It will remain in the past. Tonight is about new friendships.”

He cleared his throat.

“It’s nice to meet you… my name is Cyran. You look like you need a hug right now. Do you mind if I give you one?”

---

1. Insight Rune

Thalia was typically an expert in the art of hiding her emotions. It was a learned behavior, and one she had learned from a very young age when she still considered herself a sister. She simply had no time to care about herself, always looking after those who looked up to her. She always had to care for someone, always putting so much energy into staying alive for who she needed.

It’s why Cyran’s blatant concern was so unsettling to her, every gentle word and gesture terrifying. He was so nice, but he didn’t want anything from her.

Thalia was wary, like a particularly distrusting animal. Still, she couldn’t find herself finding a real reason to hate it. When she was given water and a slice of cake, Thalia barely even noticed it until Cyran said something. Right, she’d almost completely forgotten. Thalia usually didn’t eat a lot anyway, but somehow she had completely failed to remember that she hadn’t ate much of anything. Much less something sweet, which fully surprised her to no end that they had something like cake around these parts. Though maybe that was just her ignorance to the region talking.

With a deep, begrudging sigh, Thalia let herself relax. It was only by half a fraction, but she placed her journal on the table, face down. She wasn’t smiling anymore, and there was still that feeling that she was trying to wrack her brain for something else to deflect to. She seemed to be actively failing, much to her silent frustration.

“Thank you.” Thalia managed, rubbing at the ribbon round her neck absently. It felt right to say, so at least she was feeling better in that regard. Unfortunately though, Thalia was drunk, so her words were slurred and hard to hear. “I’m just not used to people being nice, I guess.”

Thalia huffed out a heavy sigh, her knees hiking up in her seat. She hugged them to her chest, as if trying to hide the sorry state she was in. “And you’re not really making me uncomfortable. I’m just like, really bad at being a person, yknow?”

Thalia began clicking her fingernails together, the soft sound working as something to keep her focused. “I’ve never left the city before a couple months ago. It’s kind of…weird. I don’t know.” That smile popped up on her face again, but only for a brief moment. She was stuck between embarrassed and frustrated, though her face didn’t really show that.

At the mention of Cyran’s birth daughter (she noted that specification from their previous conversation), Thalia listened quietly. She couldn’t comprehend how someone so kind could leave their loved ones behind. “That must have been hard.”

What exactly could she say to Cyran right now? It was a stupid question, but one that she felt needed an answer. He had said so many things to help her, and she while she still didn’t know what to do with those words, Thalia felt she had to say something, right?

Thankfully though, Thalia’s thoughts were interrupted by Cyran’s attempt to change the conversation. There was relief in the next breath that Thalia took, glad she didn’t have to wrack her poor brain. Her eye went wide at the mention of a hug, certainly not expecting that.

Thalia took a moment to respond, her hands clenching and unclenching as she thought it through. She kept her gaze trained on Cyran, less distrustful and more nervous. She hadn’t had a hug in decades, nearly a whole century in fact. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, but the only person who would ever care enough to hug her left her for dead so…not the best frame of reference.

“Um, okay.” Thalia began, slowly putting her feet on the ground. She straightened, and with all the confidence she could muster: “My name is Thalia, and uh, yeah. You can hug me.”

Cyran nodded - he understood far better than she might imagine she did. “Me neither. It can feel a bit painful at first, can’t it?” But once you allowed yourself to be vulnerable enough in anticipation of that sting, you learned it wasn’t so bad. Cyran still didn’t believe himself worthy of it, most days. Raised as a tool, then turned into a weapon. How could he be worthy of love when he did what he did? And yet, he had friends… family, who had deemed him worthy of kindness. It was an agonizing feeling, like the fire of a hearth. Kind and cruel.

“And you’re not bad at being a person. You’re young… you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

He nodded along as she described her lack of experience outside of Moonglade. That was a sentiment that he understood. Cyran had been living in Charon for the past ten years, and moved with the ease of someone that was comfortable with the world, and cognizant of his place in it. But it hadn’t always been like this. Back when he’d been exiled, he’d been a wreck, moving through forests in a haze of grief and loneliness, and unease. He saw enemies abound - each person that looked at him funny was a killer, and each inn and town he visited was a den of thieves. But he’d learned.

“The world is a lot bigger than Moonglade.” He said softly. “A bunch of elves stuck in their ways and full of perceived bitterness against the sun selves of Sol City." He’d been startled at how… different the rest of the world was in comparison. The smile turned melancholic at Thalia’s sympathy. “Oh, if it had been up to me… I would’ve brought her with me. I would’ve taken her to see the world.”

Instead his father had kicked him to the curb with nothing but a single dagger to defend himself.

Cyran was fairly certain that his name had been synonymous with ‘embarrassment’ after his exile.

He shrugged. Perhaps it was the drink, or perhaps it was because Thalia felt easy to talk to, but he found himself wanting to share more. Things that he needed to say, though maybe they were things she needed to hear too. “I see her everywhere… dancing in rain puddles, or when I see birds soaring through the clouds she would have loved. I collect trinkets for her in the towns that I visit and imagine the stories I’d tell her if we ever got to reunite.” He smiled. His single eye was misty, though he didn’t bother wiping away the evidence of his emotions.

“I may never see her again. We may reunite and she could decide that she’s better off without me in her life. But even if I never saw her again, I’ll love her until the day I die and more.”

He paused.

“But I didn’t mean to make this about me.” He waved his hand, brushing away the conversation topic. Thalia didn’t need to hear the ramblings of an old man who’d simmered in his sadness for far too long. He stood, holding his arms out for a hug. Though likely to Thalia’s surprise, he held his hands out at an angle, rather than straight up.

“This is something called a heart hug.” He said with a wink - one that looked rather awkward with only one eye. “You tilt your arms in the other direction and we hug, like so.” He demonstrated by pulling her into a tight embrace, one of his hands over her shoulder, and the other tucked under. Thalia would soon learn why it was called a heart hug, as it brought their hearts to the same place… she could feel his pulse, calm and steady. And he could feel hers.

His skin was cold to the touch, she would notice, but he kept a firm grip on her - as if she could break down and he would be there to catch her, should she need someone there.

Cyran knew what it felt like. He'd had to teach himself how to hug, how to love, for Marlow's sake. But he wouldn't let anyone feel the way he had in his youth, if he could help it.

At some point during the conversation, Thalia began picking at the cake before her, mostly so she had something to do with her hands. Cyran’s words still rang true to her, Though she had to admit she was a little confused by the comment on her being young. She had always felt like she was several steps behind the rest of the world, regardless of her age. She had only turned 200 just about two decades ago, but some of the children that she grew up with already had their lives established. For her, it was a matter of survival, and a whole lot of running.

She couldn't run from her parents though. The whole point of her going to the Dragon’s Cradle was because of the hefty debt weighing on her shoulders, only growing heavier and heavier with the days As they passed. Thalia couldn't remember exactly what the parameters were, but if she remembered correctly and did her math right, by the time she would be back in Eclipse City she would owe just about 10,000 solars. Her parents were annoying about it sure, but they did say that they would forgive her if she paid off both of their debts. That was close enough, right?

Cyran was very strange to her. Thalia remembered love very differently than how he displayed it when speaking of his daughter. He spoke of her like she hung the stars herself, and what is stranger is that it reignites old memories. Very, very old memories. Some part of Thalia wishes she could have such a dream like Cyran’s and to make it reality. But after everything that happened? There was no way that would be anything passed just that, a dream.

But it didn't matter. That wasn't what she was here for.

Thalia fixed Cyran with a confused look, having never heard different terms for hugs before. When he opened his arms and explained what it was, Thalia was only a quarter of the way through asking a question before she was suddenly engulfed in the most warmth that she had felt in years. Thalia 's hands lifted naturally, positioned like she was going to push him off but pausing just short.

Thalia… remembered what hugs were. She didn't realize just how much she forgot the feeling until she was engulfed in one though, her eye going wide. She doesn't respond for several seconds, trying to take in every sensation at once. Her heart was beating quickly, loud enough that she was certain that Cyran could feel it.

Finally though, after an agonizing 15 seconds, Thalia's hands shakily rise to awkwardly and timidly hug Cyran back. It's a very awkward transition, and the other moon elf could easily pick up on the fact that it didn't seem that Thalia remembered how to hug. She asked for no help, simply following the prior instructions, but she flinched and hesitated every time she moved a little closer.

Am I doing it right? Is he uncomfortable? I don't remember it feeling like this. Has it always felt like this? It's been so long, I don't even remember what to do. Her mind marveled and divulged a million thoughts at once, and though it took around a minute, Thalia slowly allowed her mind to relax. She flinched only a little bit as Cyran barely shifted the ribbon she wore around her neck, but she tugged him a little bit closer to let him know that she wasn't opposed to the affection.

The hug maybe lasts a minute and a half, but that's mostly due to the constant adjustment on Thalia's part. In short, this was one of the weirdest sensations she had felt in a long while, and if Cyran couldn't tell then he may as well have been blind.

Thalia pulled away first, her nerves too jumpy to extend the touch for any longer. It was a nice feeling, and as she issued very careful breathing exercises to help her relax during everything, her heartbeat had miraculously slowed down the longer it went on. With it slowing down however, Cyran could hear the unusual speed of Thalia's heart. When she was jumpy her heart was fast, but the more that she relaxed, the slower and slower it's rhythm got. Eventually, if Cyran were to count, there was probably only 20 beats per minute by the time she had fully relaxed. Thalia didn't seem to care or notice.

Leaning back to look up at Cyran, Thalia was smiling. It wasn't manic or forced, though there was a lot of surprise there and even some mild panic. “Did I… do it right?”

It was difficult to quantify the comfort that came from a hug.

Cyran was three and a half centuries at this point. A long life, nothing to slouch at - perhaps by elven standards, he was not quite the oldest, no matter how heavily those centuries weighed on his shoulders. He remembered being a child, no more than two decades old, following in his father’s footsteps like a duckling following their mother. Desiring nothing more than his pride, his kindness. But Cyran was hardly the ideal child, a failure by all accounts. No mind for business, nor the guts to act with the same cutthroat nature of his father. Cyran only incurred his wrath.

Comfort and affection were foreign things, growing up in the home that he did. Cyran remembered walking through the streets of Eclipse City, watching families interact with such softness and fondness that his heart ached. He had been telling the truth earlier when speaking to Thalia - his dream, in his youth, had been to have a family of his own. But he’d not truly ever learned what that warmth felt like.

Only when he received the news that Marlow was on the way did Cyran figure it was time for him to learn.

Love itself was difficult to quantify. Cyran didn’t know what it felt like until the day that he held Marlow in his hands for the first time and remembered thinking, is this a hug?

His movements were stiff, at first. Affection given freely but awkwardly, a man who held nothing but kindness in his heart but had been forced to keep it under lock and key for most of his life. It was with Marlow that Cyran taught himself how to love. If no one was going to give it to him, then he’d be damned if he let any child feel that way ever again. And with Thalia in his arms, frozen like a shaking deer who’d expected a smack rather than an embrace, Cyran could only hold her tight, with the gentlest touch he could muster.

You’re okay. I understand you. You’re okay.

It was obvious even just from her body language to the assassin that it had been a long time since she’d been given any kind of hug. And yet, she gripped him back all the same. He could feel the gentle, steady drumbeat of her heart, slower than one might expect. An odd thing, though he would not pry into her private affairs. His own heartbeat, in turn, was calm - steady. Reassuring.

When they pulled away, Thalia’s voice small, not unlike a child, Cyran reached up and ruffled her hair on instinct. The same kind of gesture he might give to Cirice. “There’s no right or wrong way to hug. It’s a gesture of love and care.” He said softly. “But you’re a good hugger.”

It wasn’t a lie, or an attempt to placate her. As awkward and stilted it had been, it had been a genuine one, a moment shared between two people who were still learning what kindness from others meant.

As they stood there, Cyran tilted his head, suddenly thoughtful. In the same way that Thalia’s mind had gone off on a tangent earlier, something seemed to finally have occurred to him. When she’d likened him to a cat, it had troubled him that he could not quite place what animal she reminded him of in turn. But as they’d hugged, it had finally occurred to him. “You know what you remind me of, Thalia?” He tapped at his chin. “You remind me of a magpie.”

Intelligent creatures, really, though easily distracted by shiny objects or whatever caught their fancy. “In places like the Crescent Isles, they are a symbol of a good luck. Eccentric creatures… but corvids have always been my favorites.”

There is a lot that Thalia didn't know, but one thing that she did was that at the very least, Cyran was probably the nicest person she had ever encountered. And though she couldn't understand why, he wasn't doing any of this because he felt bad, or because he felt he was obligated. He just… did it. Because somehow it felt natural.

Thalia’s shoulders hiked up when he ruffled her hair, an instinct, though the gesture was familiar. Too familiar. She swallowed, a lump threatening to form in her throat at the gesture.
He was doing this because he felt she needed it, he didn't want anything from her. It was that realization that made the moon elf space out for a moment as Cyran stared at her. But when he tilted his head, almost out of immediate instinct she copied the gesture with a curious stare.

And then he likened her to a magpie, looking thoughtful and triumphant as though he had finally made a connection. Thalia blinked, not expecting that for whatever reason. She knew what magpies were, though mostly in just pictures. By her understanding they were different type of...crow, or something like that. In all honesty she didn't know the specifics between a raven, a crow, or a magpie. Yet somehow the way that Cyran described it made Thalia feel… warm. Happy, weirdly enough. She had never been likened to anything like that, especially an animal. And this title - yes, she considered it a title - was given to her with such a kind and thoughtful face. Her eyes flickered over to her drink briefly, a tiny part of her wanting to drink again so she could avoid the things she was feeling, but she stifled it. One thing was throwing her off though:

“Good luck…” Unfortunately, Thalia couldn't believe that bit for one second. She was reminded on the daily that she was in fact a very unlucky charm, considering every day that she woke up the memories of yesteryear were still fresh in her mind. Some on her body in fact.

Thalia didn't let that show though, a part of her too happy to even consider the negative. “I've never been compared to a bird before. Or anything really.” Thalia said with a smile, a bit embarrassed. Like, what did one say to such a compliment? Thalia wasn't one to say thank you all that much, so she responded how she normally did. “I'm not mad at it or anything. Magpies are really pretty, or at least I think they are. I didn't see too many growing up. Lots of gulls though. Lots and lots and lots of ‘em... that's such a nice thing to say, wow.”

Thalia knew that she was talking about home again, or the equivalent anyway, but she couldn't bring herself to deflect this time. To her, Cyran was kindness personified, and he hadn't even done anything remarkable according to a normal person. This was the nicest that anyone had ever been to her in eons. To all of the gods she hoped that when she went to bed that night that she still remembered this interaction. His daughter is so, so lucky. Thalia said to herself.

Her brain was still foggy from how much she had drank, no longer seeing double but unable to place certain things about her surroundings right now. That didn't matter to her though. And maybe she blamed the alcohol for what she said next, but as they say, drunk words are sober thoughts.

“You're the first person to hug me since my brother.” To Thalia, her mind had suddenly cleared. It was as if the sounds of the tavern had suddenly silenced. The sounds and people still persisted, but she couldn't hear it now.

Thalia hadn't spoken about Ty’rei in decades, and even the thought of him nearly broke her already mangled heart into tinier pieces, the moon elf found herself leaning back in her chair. She was giving Cyran a look, blurry but something else painful and nostalgic behind it all. “You're older and wiser, but you remind me of him a lot. Of who he used to be before I...”

As if remembering what she was saying, Thalia fell silent. In complete honesty, Thalia was mostly likening Cyran’s awkwardness to her brother, as she had never met anybody who even matched a fraction of that energy to him when they were kids. Otherwise, if Thalia were sober she would probably identify that the only reason she thought they were so similar was because of their kindness. It was the rarest trait to her, only ever reading about it in books.

Cyran could tell that Thalia didn’t quite believe what he was saying, though she appreciated the sentiment all the same. Cyran wouldn’t press the issue now - he knew all too well what it felt like to believe yourself a curse. He perked up when she mentioned that she’d never seen a magpie before, which was… strange. Eclipse City, like much of Moonglade, was connected to nature, and there were a plethora of animals that traipsed through the city with little concern for meeting harm from the city’s inhabitants. Perhaps she just wasn’t an animal person? An idea was forming in Cyran’s head, one he didn’t get the chance to voice before Thalia changed subjects.

You’re the first person to hug me since my brother.

You remind me of him a lot.

The words hung in the air, an admission that Thalia didn’t seem like she fully wanted to share. But the alcohol had loosened her tongue, allowing her to share thoughts that she normally wouldn’t have with another stranger. Cyran nodded, allowing her to try and formulate her thoughts, not wanting to interrupt her while she was getting this off her chest. But she didn’t finish whatever was on her mind.

“Well, he sounds like a kind person.” Cyran said, choosing his words carefully. Thalia’s brother sounded like a sensitive subject, one that he didn’t want to broach with careless sentiments. “Someone you care about very much.” She had stopped before she admitted something to him - idly, Cyran thought back to what she’d said earlier. You remind me of someone I really hurt.

“I’d like to hear more about him, if you’d like to share.” Cyran said suddenly. “He clearly means a lot to you. It’s okay to talk about him.” Even if she felt like she didn’t deserve to. “He exists, and he cared for you. I’d like to know him too, if you’re comfortable. If not…”

He flashed her a reassuring smile.

“That’s okay too. Just know that I’ll hold his memory for you, too, if you’d like.”

He glanced out the window. The sun had already set, leaving them in a muggy, humid dusk. That was commonplace for the Marshflats - warm, but not unbearable.

“… I’ve got an idea.”

He turned back to her, a ghost of mischief glimmering in his eye. Cyran was not the kind of man that often indulged in whatever struck his fancy, but he supposed that Cirice had infected him. “Do you want to go birdwatching? I bet we could find a magpie around here. You could see what one looks like if we sneak up to the roof.”

Not to mention she could get some fresh air, and hopefully clear her mind of all the alcohol she’d consumed.

There were a lot of things going through Thalia's mind right now. Mostly just emotions that could be named by anybody: confusion, sadness, exhaustion, even a little happiness. There were a few thoughts in there too, all consisting of the same things that she was used to hearing from herself, such as why are you like this or stop talking. It was nothing unusual, but somehow talking while she was drunk made the feelings fade away. Thalia was considered a talkative drunk, but because she wasn't 100% sloshed if you could refocus enough to not say much else about her brother.

Her heart was heavy as Cyran spoke, a faint smile appearing and dispersing from her face in half a second. He was the kindest person Thalia had ever known, but “was” is the keyword here. She still missed him and loved him to this day, and every day she lamented leaving him.

Cyran then offered his ear for her to share, and Thalia gave him an incredulous look. Most people didn't know about her brother, which wasn't anything surprising. She had never spoken to anyone about him before today, and this was entirely on purpose to save her and whoever else she encountered the heartache. The story of the Fellstar twins was nothing happy, and was unfortunately pretty well known among the dock workers and tradesfolk in Eclipse City, or anyone close to her father. The bitter thought of G'Haan Fellstar compiling the story of what happened the night he disappeared made its way into her mind.

But one of the statements Cyran said was...interesting, she supposed. It's okay to talk about him. Thalia didn't know how to react at first, worried that she had misheard it. It wasn't like her brother was a topic that was never discussed amongst her and her parents, but it was never done just for the sake of just talking. His name was usually followed by a scornful “it should have been you”, sometimes worse.

This was okay to talk about. He was okay to talk about.

Thalia didn't feel perfectly comfortable with just speaking into the open though. Her fingers picked up the cake that Cyran had got her, picking a small bite out of distraction. It was cold by now and a little stale, but that was fine by her. Chocolate was delicious, and she didn't get it often in recent years.

When the older moon elf suggested they go bird watching, Thalia looked him in the face. He looked particularly enthusiastic, a new emotion that she was filing away for later. She didn't know why she was filing it away, but it was in her mental bank at this point.

Thalia brightened, nodding her head with enthusiasm. She could probably do with fresh air, even if it was humid. “Uhh yeah! That sounds fun, actually. I've never done that before.”

Thalia briefly wondered if she would recognize a magpie from her books if she was presented with one. She had seen a lot of birds around, but was entirely unable to identify any of them. There is still that part of her that was slightly afraid of animals, but her intrigue overruled the mostly irrational fear.

The girl paused for a moment, as if unsure how to react, when she suddenly reminded herself to probably put her things away before they left. She gathered everything that she had left out, looking at the remainder of her drink again and deciding against finishing it. It was a waste, but Thalia knew better...tonight.

Thalia was nibbling half-heartedly at the chocolate cake when Cyran made the suggestion to go watch the birds. He wasn’t sure if magpies were necessarily native to this area, but aside from a little more humidity, the climate was nearly the same as the country’s western counterpart. Perhaps they would get lucky and spot some rare birds. Cyran’s heart grew warm when Thalia offered her acceptance, albeit hesitantly, and started gathering her things. Cyran rolled up his own map, tossing down a couple of coins for the drink and meal.

“Really?” He smiled, delighted at the prospect of getting to share something he loved with someone else. “Follow me, then. I can get us up to the roof.” He gestured for her to follow to the back of the Safe Dry Sleep Eat Spot, where a set of rickety stairs led to the upper level. His footsteps were virtually silent as he moved, even on the creaky wood. Yawning shadows followed him wherever he went, though Cyran didn’t seem to mind. This was par the course for the assassin.

Eventually they made their way upon a locked door, one that looked like it led up to the top of the tavern. Cyran was not especially bothered by this roadblock, for reasons that became readily apparent only seconds later as he began to trace an opening in the door with his finger.^[1] The shade responded to his touch, forming an opening for the two to make their way through.

“Come on.” He beckoned, leading her gently through the opening. Only when they were both outside, exposed to the muggy summer air, did he close the entrance behind them. Next to the door was a ladder, leading up to the top of the inn. “Let me make sure it’s stable, first.”

He would be fine if the roof collapsed on them - he wouldn’t take that risk with Thalia’s safety. Cyran made his way up the ladder, testing his way on the wooden planks and tiles. It shifted and groaned with age, but it would hold just fine. “Alright, you’re safe to come up now!”

From this height, it was easy to make out all of Lilicors village. Twisted trees curled around the city’s edges, teeming with wildlife. Cyran could make out birdsong, even from here. He sat, pulling out a book from seemingly nowhere, and a spyglass in the other hand.^[2] “Now, the key is to be quiet. And relatively still. Little birds won’t harm you, they’re rather skittish creatures.” He held out the spyglass to her. “Here, if you’d like a better look in the trees.”

From here, even in the dusk, he could make out a little nest of what looked like griffonbirds from this vantage point. Maybe, if they were lucky, the little animals would come out to play.

---

1. Create Door
2. Summon: Possession - Spyglass from Sailor's Kit