Admittedly, the double that C’leena summoned gave Cyran pause. One against one was a battle he was familiar with, if he had to fight at all. Combat was something that he tried to avoid when taking out a mark, if he could avoid it. But he could handle himself in a fight just fine. Two against one, on the other hand, gave him pause. The two C’leenas were perfect mirrors of one another, moving with the same smoothness that she’d danced with earlier during her meditative form. She even got the drop on him, using the same kind of space-distorting magic as himself to escape from his glass and kick him in the spine.

His back twinged and he winced in pain, smoothly catching himself to whirl around and finish the spar. Cyran was used to pain, even though this was merely a practice round.

Even more surprising than her skill - because Cyran was in no way shocked that C’leena was a talented combatant - was the sudden changes that overtook her body. Brilliant eyes of molten gold, a halo that reminded him of religious paintings, a pair of white wings that seemed a complete opposite of Cyran’s own. The changes themselves weren’t a surprise - Cyran had seen his own fair share of transformations, could recognize the touch of otherworldly influence. What was surprising, though, was the way they began to crack the longer the fight went on and C’leena exerted herself more and more, filigree made of holy flame. As the wings broke apart and burned, Cyran delivering what would be the final blow with his dagger, did C’leena’s eyes widen and Cyran realized something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Cyran moved to catch her, but he was too late to stop the young woman from sinking to her knees. The fire raged around her, but nothing as horrible as the fire that seemed to be burning inside of her. A panic attack? No, this seemed worse than ordinary anxiety. Cyran didn’t have the words to describe whatever had plagued C’leena, but this was something deep-rooted, so ingrained within her that he didn’t think words alone would be able to snap her out of this. She was staring at… something, though Cyran couldn’t tell what from her vacant gaze, but her mind was somewhere else. Somewhen else.

A memory?

For a moment he worried that he had caused this, but based on the way C’leena reacted, he figured he could rule that out. She hadn’t been afraid of his knives, but rather…

Cyran’s gaze trailed over to the halo still hovering over her head.

Something to do with this transformation, surely.

Whatever it was, Cyran had no clue. But there was no way he was going to let her face the inferno alone.

With no way to tell what headspace she was in, there was nothing for Cyran to do but make his way to sit down next to her. In contrast to the methodical, cold movements he’d used in their spar, Cyran now moved with a deliberate gentleness, attempting not to spook a startled deer, until he was settled in the grass across from her.

“C’leena?” He called, bringing a hand up to her shoulder. A flinch - but otherwise no response. Her skin was warm to the touch, much warmer than his own. Cyran himself ran cold, a fact that had only become more apparent in the past few months as spring changed to summer. Cutting through the memories of fire and smoke, C’leena would, at the very least, be able to feel the physical sensation of coolness.

What was he supposed to say, when there was no word that could magically bring C’leena from the brink of her ruin? What was he supposed to do, when physical touch brought pain and fear rather than comfort? Cyran had encountered many problems with his children over the course of his life, but nothing had quite properly prepared him for a reaction like this. Only one thing he knew for certain - he would not leave C’leena alone through it all.

Cyran kept his hand on her shoulder, unmoving. A constant cold presence - an anchor, he hoped.

“It’s okay.” He whispered, closing his eyes. “I’m here. You are safe. You’re not in that place anymore. I will not allow any harm to come to you.”

There was no way to know if C’leena heard his words or not. Filling the silence with gentle noise, Cyran cleared his throat and began to sing under his breath. An old lullaby, in elvish - words he wasn’t sure she would understand even if she was cognizant of her surroundings, but a low melody that filled the silence with serene peace. A song about a songbird flying through dark storm clouds, a tempest that seemed inescapable. But at the end of it all, the sun rose once more, and the bird found peace and happiness in the warm and gentle light.

A lullaby just for C’leena, to ease her back into herself.

That was all Cyran knew how to offer. Gods willing it was enough.

Memory is a finnicky thing. Everybody forgets things, excludes details and sometimes adds details that didn't happen. Little things like this are what make witness testimonies so unreliable, and why nightmares and PTSD episodes such as this are so much worse.

She doesn't register the touch, but she does register the speech, however she doesn't recognize that it's from an external source. The flames make it hard to see, hard to move. “I’m here. You are safe. You’re not in that place anymore. I will not allow any harm to come to you.” The words echo through her mind, unsure of where exactly they're coming from. The voice is familiar, and the words are kind and warm. It doesn't feel right being here, but nevertheless, she grasps for them, hoping - begging that they let her out of this hell.

The soft singing from the same voice fills her ears, and desperately breaking through the state of panic she's in, all she's able to do is close her own eyes and follow the melody to the best of her ability. She feels herself hit by the falling beam, pinned to the ground for the umpteenth time already, and the cycle continues.

All C'Leena does is focus on the melody. On Cyran's melody. They were just sparring, right? He just kicked her ass as she expected him to until this happened. C'Leena is supposed to meet back up with.. someone later today? Blue skin, snowy hair.. Nephele. C'Leena's memory is jittery and broken in many, many places but with each puzzle piece put back into it's place, reminding her of where C'Leena truly is, the house fire becomes more and more foggy.

Soon enough, she can feel the cold hand on her shoulder, and within the next few minutes, she finds herself staring down at the grass. The cool air surrounds them, leaves rustling in trees and most predominantly despite it's softness, Cyrans singing. She doesn't understand the language, nor actually recognize it. Her arms holding her up become beyond shaky as she nearly collapses into even more of a heap on the ground. Instead, she practically lunges for Cyran and wraps her arms around him, sinking her head into his shoulder and starts breaking back down into a thousand pieces.

In between sobs, C'Leena is trying to string together words that are barely coherent. "Please don't let me go back - I don't want to go back please," she barely gets out. Despite her crying, it's obvious to Cyran that no tears are being shed. C'Leena already knows this fact and has known for a number of years now. Her tear ducts were scalded to the point of uselessness during the fire, and every time she wants to cry, she just can't. It's always that awful feeling of needing to cry more tears but just not having more to cry, no matter if she's crying for happy reasons or for reasons such as this.

To say that C'Leena is scared would be the worlds largest understatement. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to look at her burns and understand her terror of fire, but this much of a reaction might be seen as far more severe than usual burn victims. For now, however, C'Leena continues to cry into Cyrans shoulder, terrified but beyond thankful for him.

It took some time, but with Cyran’s gentle song, and the sounds of nature, he could tell that C’leena was slowly coming back to herself. The change was imperceptible, barely a movement of her shoulders and a shudder in her eyes.

And then, to his surprise, she threw herself into his arms.

Cyran blinked, taken aback for only a second. C’leena buried her head into his shoulder - he could feel no wetness on his jacket, but he knew she was crying all the same. The second that realization hit, Cyran didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her, enveloping her in that same familiar coolness. It was all he could do to keep her together while she crumbled. One arm held her around the shoulders, and the other gently cradled her head, supporting her while she sobbed. Her words, an incoherent mantra, but Cyran could hear her plea nonetheless.

Please don’t let me go back…

Cyran rubbed circles in her back, slow. So young to bear so much on her shoulders. So young to deal with these burns that had been inflicted on her. The young woman had seemed so strong and assured when Cyran first started talking to her - but now, she had completely unraveled in the face of her fear. The burning wings. The smoke. Bringing her back to whatever day had affected her so horribly.

Cyran gripped her tighter - not so tight she couldn’t escape.

“Never.” He promised, a hardening resolution in his tone - perhaps not one he had any right to make, but one he intended to keep while she broke in his arms. “So long as I’m here, you’ll never have to go back.” He ran his hands through her hair, soothing. No fire would touch her here.

Cyran wasn’t sure how long that the two sat here like this, Cyran just holding close to her, allowing her to cry herself out. He did not speak much. Only repeating the same reassurances in a low tone, an anchor amidst the storm. “You are safe, you are not going back there.” He didn’t know where there was, but he could imagine. “You’re here, with me. You’re here.”

Only when he would feel her still would Cyran gently pry her upwards, allowing himself to get a good look at her face. Even if C’leena was too burned to properly allow tears to shed, that didn’t mean she hadn’t cried. Didn’t mean she didn’t need to be taken care of. “Look at me, poppet.” He murmured, the nickname slipping out without thought. He held out his hand, a small, water-covered cloth manifesting in his palm.^[1] “Come here, let me clean you up. This will be cold.”

Assuming she would let him, he would run the wet cloth over her cheeks, cleaning up tears that didn’t exist, but ones that he could see all the same. Moving on autopilot, he nearly moved to place a kiss on her forehead before remembering that this wasn’t actually one of his children, but a near stranger. So he settled for cleaning her off, allowing the coolness to bring her away from that horrid, burning place that had trapped her in her memories.

---

1. Summon: Possession

Time was a blur. All of C'Leenas actions today have been surprising even her. C'Leena's grip around Cyran was tight and unwilling to let go as she noisily cried. Honestly, she'd feel bad for wetting the jacket so this was one of the few times she was thankful she doesn't produce tears.

There was something particular with Cyran. His voice was calming and absolute - Certain. With Cyran holding C'Leena as well, he can clearly feel more of the scarring hidden by her clothing. The scar tissue is coarse and textured in a discomforting way, and it seems to almost run across the entirety of her back.

While they're in this embrace, Cyran would notice a curious sound coming from C'Leena. A soft clockwork ticking with what sounds like a mechanical heartbeat, and an almost mechanical hiss with every sharp breath C'Leena takes.

She too isn't sure how long they're like that, however being pulled upward garnered C'Leena looking up as Cyran requested. Nothing about her says that she has been bawling her eyes out for who knows how long, but her eyebrows raise, both at his want to clean her up as well as the nickname. Despite the shock, she nods and allows him to 'clean her up'.

As he does so, it's almost like a switch is flipped in her mind. The want to just talk about everything. She clears her throat and lets go of Cyran, an apologetic look on her face as she kneels in front of him, allowing him to continue what he was doing. "I'm uh.. Sorry about that." She starts, rubbing the back of her neck passively.

"I just.. Fire is not exactly in my book of good graces as I'm sure you can tell," She laughs, but it feels forced. "It was.. Five years ago, nearly six. The burns afterward had covered me entirely. Medicine and medical services are far more advanced from where I was, so technically speaking, the skin without scarring isn't even my skin. I wasn't able to get it all removed but - heh, I got the most important bits, I s'pose."

"But yeah. I'm sure you've noticed that I'm not 'crying'. Thats cause my uhm.. Tear ducts got seared into uselessness. Along with my eyes. Fucken hell that.. Moving on from that-" If she was looking uncomfortable before, the second her eyes were brought up, that discomfort ramped up to twelve. "Most of my body isn't even real. Damages from broken timber caused a lot of my organs to nearly cop out. My heart, lung and liver didn't survive. I nearly didn't. My survival was a miracle.

"I just.. When more of you is metal and electricity - or in this case magic, I can't help but feel less than human. The fucking burns and these fucking prosthetics- I just want to feel normal! I don't want to fucking stand out - I want to be able to walk down the damn street without people staring at me and my fucking girlfriend because I have featureless fucking eyes." As she speaks, her anger is apparent and very quickly ramps up. Her fists tighten into balls in her lap. Then, all at once, it drains from her body as if she has no more energy to be angry. "I just.. I want to be able to feel again. I can hardly feel through the scars and I have to meditate for a number of hours just to get something from the prosthetics. The few places I can feel through are few and far between."

"I've been living in a fucking hell for years. I don't even feel like myself. Nephele has helped with everything quite a bit, at least. That I'll never be able to repay." The ghost of a smile finds it's way onto C'Leenas face at the mention of Nephele. "I'm sorry, Cyran. I just kinda came at you and.. It wasn't right. I'm sorry.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything.” Cyran assured her. “It’s not something you can control. I’m happy I was here to help, at the very least.” There were no real tears for him to clean up, but he continued the motion of wiping her face off until the young woman opened her mouth and started to speak. Cyran remained silent the longer she talked, though a troubled frown grew on his face the longer she talked. A fire that she wasn’t meant to survive one, being deprived of her senses, not feeling human… none of these were burdens that she should have to bear. There was only so much one could take before they snapped entirely.

“C’leena, listen to me.” Cyran’s voice was steady and firm, his hand never once leaving her shoulder as he reached up with his other hand to pull off his eyepatch. C’leena would be able to see that his right eye was much like her own - nothing but pure black, a bland, bottomless, featureless void. “A couple of months ago my goddaughter, her partner, and I got caught in an underground tomb from which we barely escaped with our lives. The price of living turned out to be my eye. I went to a healer, but… it never came back quite right.”

In the silence, he continued.

“You can’t see it, but my back is completely ruined.” A mess of rotted, ink-black scars that had never healed properly. “Ten years ago, my wife at the time tried to destroy me. Both times, I lived. These scars are the cost of survival, and sometimes, the cost is steeper for some than others.”

He offered her a small, almost sad smile. “I can’t pretend to understand I know how you feel, with such severe wounds. I can only tell you of my own experiences. That I felt like a monster, that I should have been left to die so many times over. And yet, I kept waking up, and going on about my day. Wondering why I even bothered. But gods, there is so much kindness in the world, and more than anything I’m overjoyed that you’re still alive to experience it.”

Still, hearing her express that she just wanted to feel normal, to be normal again, broke Cyran’s heart. He grabbed her hand, holding the metal appendage between his own hands, keeping her anchored here.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad to have met you. And all of those people that stare at you and your girlfriend in the street…” His grip tightened - not unbearably tight, but enough that perhaps C’leena might be able to feel it. “Fuck them. They don’t know the price you’ve had to pay for that survival. They never will. Because you’re a fighter, and you’ve overcome so much. And you’re going to continue to get better, bit by bit.”

At her second attempt at an apology, Cyran shook his head. “Truly, you don’t need to apologize. I’m glad to listen, and I want to help.” He bit his lip, an idea coming to mind. There was perhaps a way he could help, though the thought was a dangerous one. But if she was amenable, he might be able to give her a couple of hours of peace away from the pain and the numbness. “You’re safe here… I want to help you feel more like yourself. What can I do for you?”

C'Leena could do nothing but listen. Something has been buggering with her the second she arrived here that has made her far more emotionally volatile. Perhaps it's a particular reaction to magic, seeing as she hails from somewhere without it? Who knows. Something to look into, at least.

Cyran wiping away the ghosts of fallen tears was nice, strangely enough. Usually, she didn't like people touching her face - especially the scarring around her eyes but right now, she couldn't muster the energy to care. When Cyran beckoned for her attention, she looked up from the ground and made eye contact, not expecting him to remove the eyepatch. Seeing the endless black, the doctor in C'Leena grew curious as she leaned forward slightly to look more closely. She was still listening, but her interest has been piqued by his eye - or lack of one? It's difficult to tell.

She made no attempt to interrupt Cyran as he spoke. As he moved from the subject of his eye, C'Leena leaned back, truly focused on Cyran himself. While his own injuries were severe in of themselves, they are of different scenarios and severities. Cyran lost his eye, C'Leena lost more than half of her body. Despite that, it was an odd comfort hearing of his own tales. Hearing that he also felt the way C'Leena does.

C'Leenas sensation was slowly fading, but she could vaguely feel the cold of Cyrans hands wrapping around her own. Out of instinct, she flinched slightly, still not at all used to feeling sensation in her hands. Despite the flinch, she didn't fight against Cyrans grip, finding solace in the chill. Against the mood of the conversation, C'Leena did crack a small chuckle at Cyrans vulgarity. 

Breaking her own self-imposed silence, she takes a moment for form her words before speaking. "I just don't know how to get better. Even in my world where we have ways that would seem like magic to you, I wasn't able to get better. I spiraled, and I spiraled hard. I nearly did something I wouldn't even have time to regret because of all this." C'Leena gestures to herself with her free hand, all the while looking down, almost in shame. "I still don't know how to move forward or to heal this; I'm not a psychologist. This is so far outside my realm of knowledge that I don't know where to start."

"I suppose it's poetic in the end. A Prosthetist with prosthetics. I don't know. Not being able to feel and not being able to cry has had a surprising impact on me mentally. You ever just want to cry but have nothing left to cry? That almost congested feeling behind your eyes? It's frustrating." At this point, she doesn't seem sad but more annoyed. Internally, this is simply how she copes. She switches from being sad to being angry which tends to overflow to her lashing out since she has an awful temper. That isn't made better with her very much unmedicated ADHD. It's honestly surprising that she's able to function as a human being at this point.

Finally falling into silence and listening to Cyran once again, she can't wrap her head around why people won't accept her apologies. They're founded on genuine reasons to be sorry, right? She did lunge at Cyran and completely break down without any forewarning. That merits an apology, right? She suddenly realizes that Cyran is talking again and returns to reality.

"What can you do..? I don't know what you mean by that. If you're able to give me my nerves back, that would be lovely," She softly laughs. At least her sense of humor is slowly returning. "Um.. I really don't know how to answer that. I guess I just don't want to be alone for a while. I'm.. kind of afraid of what I might do if I'm left alone to think." Truthfully, she doesn't even know what would happen, but theres just a gut feeling that it won't be at all pretty. Plus, Cyran is actually pretty nice company, so she's not against him hanging around if he's willing to do so. Plus, she does feel safe with Cyran.

Whether C’leena felt comfortable enough to share more about herself with Cyran, or she simply didn’t have the mental filter to watch what she was saying, but the longer she spoke, the more Cyran picked up from her words. That she’d come from another world, which nearly threw Cyran for a loop - though he remained silent while C’leena spoke of her mental state, that she didn’t even know where to start with the healing process. Cyran couldn’t blame her. Such a monumental thing that had changed her life, made her feel less than human. But all Cyran saw when he looked at her was a young woman with this inferno of emotions building up within her, and nowhere to put them. No way to get rid of them.

“I don’t have the answers, either.” Cyran shook his head, regretful. “It’s easy for me to sit here and preach about how life goes on, and time heals all wounds, but the truth is that I don’t understand the severity of what you feel.” Though he could remember one thing. The day he’d been exiled from his home, and stripped of his family name… his daughter… Cyran had been left with nothing but a single knife. A blade, thrown at his feet by a guard that had taken pity on him. In the hands of a soft nobleman who’d yet to hone his skills, left to fend for himself in a dangerous world, there was only one effective way to make use of that knife. A single cut was all Cyran would need. It was intended to be a mercy. One Cyran had never taken, no matter how easy it seemed.

Cyran couldn’t understand C’leena’s pain, but he understood her desperation.

“You just keep walking.” Cyran’s voice was quiet, sure. “Even if you don’t know how to heal - even if healing seems impossible - then you survive. You put one foot in front of the other, and you let your body guide you when your mind can’t. You keep moving, even if curing that pain seems impossible. Maybe it is, and maybe it will always live with you. But if you wallow in that pain, you’ll deprive yourself of the new beautiful things that the world has to offer.” He offered C’leena a small smile, barely an upward quirk of the lips. “If you can’t cry, start finding other ways to channel your emotions. It looks like you’ve made a lot of headway with meditation when you need to calm. Scream into the heavens when you’re angry. You have a lot of passion, C’leena.” They hadn’t known each other that long, but he could tell that much.

“This, what’s happened to you… the world has tried to beat you down and change you. The greatest triumph is to keep being yourself.”

That despite everything that’s happened… it is still you.

At C’leena’s hesitant, soft spoken request, Cyran nodded, a silent promise. “Then I won’t leave you alone. As long as you need me here.”

He bit his lip, considering his options. He was hesitant to offer this, if only because he didn’t want to give C’leena something unhealthy to latch onto, or harm her mental state. Dreams, as lovely as they were, weren’t reality, after all. But at the very least, he could give her a happy couple of hours, alleviate this congested feeling that so clearly plagued her.

Maybe giving C’leena some avenue of emotional release might help. He would at least offer.

“I… might have something that I can do to help. It’s not reality, but it would at least give you feeling for a couple of hours.” He hummed. “I am… adept at manipulating dreams. And if I could use this technique to help give you even a moment of peace, I will. But it’s your choice. If you don’t want me to, that’s okay.”

He squeezed her hands again.

“I’m not going to leave you alone, no matter what you decide. This wave of emotions… it’s okay to feel them. But you don’t have to ride the wave alone. Im here to be your anchor, okay? We’re here together.”

With each supportive word out of Cyran's mouth, the more obvious it became that he is not only beyond his years but also walked through hell and back. There was a certainty the C'Leena didn't miss, and it was comforting. C'Leena cracked another chuckle at Cyran suggesting she yell at the heavens. "Oh trust me, I yell at more than the heavens. I've been told I have a little bit of a temper." She laughs lightly again, finding herself in a slightly better mood than before.

Continuing to listen, she took heed of each word he spoke. She was silent by the time he finished and she was glad to keep his company when he agreed to hang around. C'Leena needed a moment to process all that she was told, and was still silent as Cyran started to suggest something else. Adept at manipulating dreams? What could hurt about that? No harm in giving it a go, she supposes. It's distant enough from mental manipulation like Calm Emotion she reckons. She feels fine about it right now, at least.

"..Yeah, alright. Fuck it, why not. Would I still be able to control what happens?" She asks. It's a fair question and, if she can, she sees an opportunity that she hasn't seen before. A chance to show somebody her old home. At Cyran's confirmation that indeed she can control the dream, C'Leena nods. "Alright. Yeah, lets do it." After a few moments of Cyran casting, the pair fall into unconsciousness.

---

They open their eyes standing in a foggy white void. The distant white is nearly a static - background noise, and the fog makes it difficult to see too far into the distance, although distance is a bit difficult to figure out. C'Leena is confused for a moment, before realizing that this is her dreamscape that has yet to develop anything. Chances are this is something representing her ADHD or something. It feels accurate, at least to her. The constant fog, the unfocused background noise, the strangely distractible feeling; it's all here. C'Leena huffs a laugh at this realization.

Turning around to see Cyran, she brushes her hand against the coarse denim of her jeans, and immediately her entire hand flinches away, C'Leena startled by the sensation. Wait what? Something isn't right. She takes her hand in the other and rubs at the palm with her thumb. The sensation is nearly overwhelming. Her hand feels real, she can feel through it. She was immediately nearly crying again just from this alone.

Fighting back tears already, she drops her hand and smiles to Cyran. "I saw an opportunity with this. Mind if I show you what I once considered home?" She asks as the scene begins to lose the fog and change. They’re stood outside what seems to be a shoddy one-storey home. The yard is unkempt and out of control, the fencing is wire-link and nearly falling apart and it’s right next to a main road where cars race by. The noises of her old home cause C’Leena to tear up. It’s been so long since she’s been here.

C’Leena appears younger by a good deal. She’s still wearing her tank top and jeans, but everything about her seems more youthful. She's a couple inches shorter, standing at around 5’10 and, strangely enough, her hair is pretty long, reaching just below her shoulder blades. She has smoke gray eyes and looks to be of pretty average build. Her right arm is covered from shoulder to fingertip in a sleeve of tattoos, various floral and web-like patterns, and just behind her hair, a colored tattoo of a rose peeks out. The pair are stood on the sidewalk, just outside of the homes property.

"I used to live here. As a kid, about six years ago now." C’Leena says in a quiet tone. Her voice is much the same, but has a strange unfamiliar quality to it - much like listening to a recording of your friend from years ago. "It was a complete shithole, but it was home. Had everyone I cared about in there. Rose, my parents. Didn’t really have anybody more than that, but I didn’t need more."

There is a faint smile on C’Leena’s face as she speaks. She is about to speak again before a voice is heard over the cacophony in the background. "Cece! There you are! Jeez, you need to stop running off like that. One of these days you’re gonna get hurt, miss ‘Gonna be a doctor’."

The voice is awfully familiar to C’Leena, even more so the nickname. C’Leena snaps her head toward the voice, and after a second of processing who it was, immediately ran over and tackled her into a bone-crushing hug. A hand immediately takes a fistful of Roses hoodie, and begins running her hand over her braid, feeling the texture for the first time in years. Despite everything fighting against it, C’Leena immediately begins crying into her sisters shoulder. Rose herself appears confused, and doesn’t seem to even notice Cyran. "Uhm, Cece? Are you okay? What happened? Usually it’s the other way around in scenarios like this." She says, returning the hug with a confused look on her face.

Rose appears to share a great resemblance to C’Leena. Average build, same colored eyes, hair and skin tone. The major differences are that Rose has her hair tied back into a braid, and she’s far shorter than C’Leena, standing at about 5’5. She’s wearing casual clothing; Black jeans and a zipped up hoodie with the hood down. Rose mainly got her fashion sense (which is none) from C’Leena. It’s entirely possible that the hoodie Rose is wearing is in fact C’Leena’s, but she really doesn’t care at the moment.

C’Leena’s sister consoles her for a minute before C’Leena pulls back from the embrace. For the first time in a long, long time, she feels tears running down her cheeks and has never been happier to feel that. "I’m just.. So, so happy to see you, Rose." She says quietly. This elicits an even more confused look from Rose.

"It’s been.. Five minutes, C’Leena. Ten, tops. Jesus, I know you’re fast but you don’t need to rub salt in the wound. You’re not The Flash running through time or whatever." This causes C’Leena to laugh. Rose always had that knack. C’Leena disengages from the hug, smiling ear to ear.

"You know I love you, right Flower? Forever and always, like we always say.. I fulfilled my promise to you, too. Take care wherever you are now, okay?" C’Leena looks close to crying again, but keeps both her hands on Roses shoulders. Rose herself looks contemplative for a moment before nodding.

"I will.. I miss you, Cece. Man, I’m kind of pissed I won’t be able to attend that wedding." The both of them laugh, tears once again rolling down C’Leena’s cheeks. "She’ll say yes, C’Leena. She’d be out of her mind not to. Make me a grave when you settle, yeah?" Rose smiles faintly before the scene fades into the white void, Rose following soon after. C’Leena’s hands drop from where they once rested, and she stands motionless for a moment before breathing in a shaky breath.

"Uhm.. That was my sister, Rose." The scene changes once again. This time, C’Leena changes to look older. Her hair is cut short like it usually is, but instead of the tanktop and jeans, she’s in a black suit, black tie and white dress shirt. Funeral attire. The scene finishes developing itself, and directly in front of them is a casket on a waist-high lift just above an open grave. The surroundings are covered in snow, layering everything in about 2-3 inches. Behind the duo are what seems to be too many footsteps to count marked in the snow, all leading away from the area. Cyran would most likely assume that a funeral was just held here, possibly minutes prior, and everyone has finally left. The only ones here are Cyran and C’Leena.

"Rose passed away five years ago from a drunk driving incident. I would always visit her grave every second weekend, just to spend time with her, tell her of my progress through medical school and whatnot. Even to complain about patients I didn’t particularly like. Obviously keeping confidentiality but, you know. Better than me breaking something over it." C’Leena chuckles softly as she slowly approaches the casket. The snow continues to fall as she wipes away some snow off the casket, revealing the wood underneath, where she places a gloved hand.

"Despite it being so long ago.. I still haven’t gotten over it. I don’t know if I ever will. She was my world, Cyran - still is in many, many ways. Jeez, I even took her name as my middle name so she’d be with me forever in a small way. She always would beg me to play the piano so she could play violin with me. She’s the one who made me learn the piano in the first place." As C’Leena retells this story, a ripple in the air opens up to reveal a window to another time.

The memory shows C'Leena sat at a piano stool, fingers on the keys and playing a complex and fast paced piece. Her fingers dance over the keys, hitting everything she needs to, eyes closed and just feeling the music. Rose is stood behind her, hand up to her mouth and apparently in awe. The music is powerful and tells it's own story all without using words. After completing the piece, C'Leena in the memory leans back, dropping her hands to her lap, and was able to get a reprieve for but a moment before Rose tackled her into a hug from behind.

"That was beautiful. And you wrote that?" Rose asked, still wrapping C'Leena in the tight embrace. No response was given before the window into the memory rippled and closed. C'Leena was looking where the memory just was, tears streaming down her face. C'Leena had never forgotten that moment, and is unable to describe just how much seeing this has meant to her.

"We tackled the world together, her and I." C'Leena says, her voice shaky and beyond fragile. As if one wrong breath could cause her to crack and shatter. "I feel.. So, so much anger for the dumbass that took her life. She was a couple years younger than me, about 5 years younger. I was very nearly 20 when she died.

"I miss her so fucking much, Cyran. There is not a single fucking night that goes by that I don't wish she was still around." Finally, C'Leena breaks. Uncaring for the snow and the cold, she leans forward and rests her head on the casket and just weeps. Five years, and she still gets like this each and every time.

For now, she simply cries, melting the snow with her breath and tears. The snow continues to fall, not heavy enough to undo C'Leenas progress, however. People say that grief is one of the most powerful emotions someone can experience, and C'Leena would have to agree. She nearly threw her life away over grief, and later nearly threw her life away for a very different reason due to her depths of depression. After the accident, and with Roses death still a fresh wound, it came to be far too much for C'Leena to handle.

Yet it was a phone call that distracted her long enough. A Co-Worker asking about the next days shifts had unknowingly saved her life, and C'Leena would be beyond thankful even to this very day.

Cyran had traveled many dreamscapes in the time it had taken him to master this technique. The subconscious was a finicky thing, delicate and easy to get lost in. Every person’s subconscious took on a different form - whether it was Del’s reoccurring nightmare, or his own dreams in the dark corners of his mansion, or Cashmere’s starry sky. He found it was easier to take a backseat and let the dream construct itself around you. This much, Cyran knew. He had no idea what C’leena had looked like before the accident robbed her of her limbs, her eyes, her sensation of touch. Those were not memories he possessed, but she did. It was easy enough for him to hold this thought in his head, as the two slipped into a meditative state, and the rest of the outside world faded around him.

If nothing else, C’leena would appear as she had before her accident.

A white void greeted him first - murky and foggy, almost akin to the essence of his own shadow. The same, but… opposite. It seemed to float and drift around the two, a bone-white, expansive nothingness. Cyran turned to C’leena, unsurprised to find her appearance had completely changed. Blue, artificial eyes were steely grey, one of her arms completely covered in tattoos. And the disbelief and unrestrained emotions at the realization that she could feel again… for Cyran, that made this entire venture worth this venture into the Dreamscape. She didn’t linger in her emotions for long, despite the tears that threatened to fall once more. Rather than giving into that sorrow and joy, C’leena turned to address Cyran. He perked up, smiling at the mention of her home.

“I would love to see your home.” He waved his hand, drawing upon her memory once more, and the world began to shimmer and morph around them. Like an image coming into sharp focus, they found themselves standing outside a one-story house constructed with an unfamiliar architecture, the likes of which Cyran had never seen before. Unfamiliar noises assaulted him - concrete and steel and suburbia an unfamiliar concept to him. But C’leena had mentioned that she was from a world not like Charon… Cyran could hold his curiosity now and merely observe. C’leena wanted to show him something so dear to her heart, and right now, that was more important.

There was a heaviness in her tone when she spoke of her family - of Rose. The kind of life Cyran had always dreamt of in his youth… maybe C’leena hadn’t had much, as she claimed, but she grew up never questioning that she was loved. Cyran opened his mouth to say something when an unfamiliar voice cue through the fog of the dream.

A young woman, bearing striking resemblance to C’leena - and with the same odd fashion sense - approached C’leena. The young medic didn’t hesitate before turning around and wrapping whoever this was in a bone-crushing embrace, one that seemed to last an eternity. Cyran was utterly invisible to the young woman, though that didn’t rightfully matter to him. How could he intrude, when C’leena finally allowed herself a moment to feel again? Her shoulders trembled where she clung to the young woman like a lifeline, the girl with the braid murmuring soft words of concern.

And then C’leena mentioned her name. Rose.

A beautiful moment between family. But based on C’leena’s anguish, Cyran knew it wouldn’t last.

The scene shifted once more, and C’leena now stood next to Cyran in all black. A different kind of funeral than the kind Cyran was used to, but the assassin supposed he fit right in in his dark jacket. Not that it mattered at the moment. They were the only two here, and be was an observer, one of the crowd of two whose attention was focused on the casket resting on the snowy ground. Cyran put a hand on her shoulder as she spoke - a small physical comfort, the only thing he could offer her as the memory of Rose’s death reopened like a wound that had never healed quite right.

He had no idea what a drunk driving incident was, but he didn’t need to know to understand that it was something fatal. Something that had stolen Rose from C’leena.

She was my world, Cyran - still is in many, many ways.

Cyran understood the sentiment. It had been a little over twenty years since his own daughter, Marlow, was born - and over twenty years since Cyran felt like his life had truly begun. In his long centuries of life, nothing had given him purpose like his songbird had. Being a father made Cyran the happiest he’d ever been - and having her ripped from his arms had been the greatest anguish. Not a day went by that he didn’t think about Marlow, the piece of his heart that still remained of Eclipse City. Wondering if she was okay, if she was happy. Time had not dulled the pain, and Cyran was beginning to think it never would.

Some wounds just didn’t heal.

But you could learn to live with them.

Cyran nodded, watching the casket as it was lowered to the ground. If nothing else, he would bear witness to this moment, for C’leena.

“I’ll remember her, too.” He murmured. “She’ll live with me as well. She won’t be forgotten.”

Another scene chance, the air rippling around them as the air showed another memory - and a young C’leena sat playing at a piano, a young rose congratulating her on her skills. That memory seemed to be the breaking point. Even the strongest metal could break when bent hard enough, and C’leena only had so much give left. She knelt to sob into the wooden casket, her strength finally eroding away. Cyran sat down next to her, rubbing slow circles into her back, saying nothing to her. She needed this, the emotional release.

He bowed his head, reverent - and then under his breath, he spoke.

“Hello, Rose. It’s nice to meet you. I’m… a friend of your sister’s.” Friend might have been a bit of stretch for their first meeting, but Cyran could not rightfully call them strangers. “I haven’t known her for long, but I’m happy to have met such a strong and passionate person. And it sounds like I have you to thank for that.”

He gave the coffin a small smile.

“I may not have had the chance to meet you in person, but I feel as if I’ve already gotten to know parts of you. Your sister carries you around wherever she goes. So thank you for helping her. Thank you for being there for one another. It makes a father happy to see such a strong bond between siblings…”

His hand stilled, resting on C’leena’s back for a moment before resuming the same slow, sure movements. He said nothing else for a long time. Cyran was no stranger to loss, and sometimes the best thing to say was nothing.

He would just wait for C’leena to finish crying to wipe at her face again - this time, clearing away real tears.

“Thank you for showing me…” He’d meant to give her a moment of peace, but these were things she clearly needed to work through. “Is there anything else you want to visit? Ask it, and I’ll take us there.”

C'Leena was still in the depths of grief when it came to Rose, and that much was obvious. She was never granted the time to cope and to recover, as her life continued to spiral and take turns to make it all worse. In recent times, she's begun to think that her transportation to Charon was one of the better things to happen to her, despite her initial impressions being otherwise.

She hasn't considered earth home in.. months. Fairly sure she hasn't considered it home since she got together with Nephele, but there will always be something missing without Rose. It was simply the burden of a sister who is now an only child. Years of wishing, hoping and praying that she could rewrite time - make it so it wasn't the one time C'Leena didn't walk with her. Because of that single fact, she continues to blame herself.

All of this remains unvoiced. She couldn't even if she wanted to. Her sobs into the snowy coffin lid fill the otherwise silent air as Cyran idly rubs her back. The sensation is calming. She hasn't felt somebody do this in a long time - at least not properly with the nerve damage and all. She knows this wont last, but that's okay. C'Leena is already indebted to Cyran for simply letting her do this.

And then he began talking. Not to C'Leena, but to Rose. As he spoke, C'Leena managed to wrangle her emotions into something slightly resembling calm and raised her head off the lid, wiping her forehead and tears away as he spoke. It was unnecessarily kind but C'Leena deeply appreciated it anyway. 

"Christ man. You didn't need to do that." She protested weakly. Despite her words, it's clear that C'Leena appreciated it beyond measure. "Rose. I know this all is a dream, but I don't care. I miss you every day - like I keep telling you. I'm sorry for not visiting you, I've uh.. been unable to. One hell of a traffic jam between realities, let me tell you," She laughs. Despite the weakness in her voice, it sounds genuine. "..I will make you a grave here on Charon. I trust you when you say that she'll say yes. She's a wanderer at heart but.. surprisingly enough she seems almost excited at the idea to settle. She used to hate having a roof over her head - opting to sleep outside. You already know that had me concerned but as the months flew by, she became less and less against it.

"I did what you asked me to, Rose. All that time ago, you asked me to find someone who'll love every part of me for who I am? I think I've done it. She's a fey with a.. troubled past. People tend to be untrusting of them which generally seems to be well warranted but.. not with her. It's not my place to say, but I think you would've loved her." She pauses. There is a certain feeling that tells her that this doesn't last forever. She needs to wrap this up and move forward. "I need to go, Rose. Love you, Forever and Always. Rest easy." She pats the casket and stands up, brushing the snow off her knees.

The area ripples and fades, replaced by a cityscape. The duo stand on top of a skyscraper - Eureka Tower in Melbourne, and the rest of the city stretches on for miles upon miles - far bigger than even Sol City. A large area looks run down a decrepit, even from this far away, and another area looks beyond wealthy. Your classic Dystopia. C'Leena herself appears as her younger self with the long hair. Up here is incredibly windy, but not so much that it's hindering conversation.

"This is Melbourne. Shithole of the Twenty-Fourth Century." She says, hands clasped behind her back as she looks over the city. "Where the rich get richer and the poorer have their money stolen by the rich. Unfortunately, I was never in the rich category. Well-off, maybe, but never rich. Doctors salaries are famously crap, even as a prosthetist. Why don't I give you a lesson on world history?"

C'Leena gestures with a hand, and suddenly the pair are shooting through the air, out of the atmosphere and before the pair even know it, are looking down on earth from orbit. The planet looks sickly - polluted beyond measure. "This is earth. Homeworld of Humanity. You see, there aren't other races like you know them here. There are only humans, and different cultures and ethnicities of humans. You'd think that, by now we would've figured out that racism helps nobody but nah. However, let me show you something."

The world would fade into the distance very quickly, and within moments they would arrive at a planet C'Leena would recognize as Mars. They stand in orbit, looking down at the planet. However, it's not completely red like it was in the 2020's. Some portions have domes visible from even this high up, and within those domes are lush green flora. These domes aren't plentiful whatsoever, only about five of them on this side of the planet. However, the domes are equal to the size of about 5 times the size of Melbourne and are populated quite heavily.

"This is Mars. A once dead planet incapable of supporting life. The air is toxic and thin, so humanity created large domes to be able to sustain human needs. Cyran, we forced a planet that wasn't capable of supporting life into providing us with food and resources. Hell, we tricked rocks into thinking in order to get here.

"We took a fucking rock, made it conduct electricity, did some fancy shit that would take way too long to explain and made it Think. Because of this, we've had actual debates on whether sentient AI should be considered a new type of person. AI stands for Artificial Intelligence - think a construct, but the size of a small rock. Now, sentient AI doesn't exist since it is fabricated intelligence, but it's still quite a thought. We trick rocks into thinking so much that they became an internationally recognized race of people."

"I'm sorry if I'm throwing a lot at you all at once. I've just had enough of crying for a good while. If you have questions, please, do ask them. I'll try to answer to the best of my ability."

He remained silent for the rest of C’leena’s talk with her sister. This, too, was a private moment that he did not need to intrude on. The love and adoration in her eyes as she spoke about Nephele was relieving. People had been lost, but… so too had they been gained. And C’leena had things to live for, in Charon. The thought of her home in this realm, though, brought up questions he wasn’t quite sure how to ask. Not until C’leena stood, beckoning for her to move as the scene shifted and morphed into something unfamiliar. Cyran and C’leena stood atop a giant tower, a construction of steel unlike anything he’d ever seen before. And the expanse of city below them… it was even more difficult for his brain to comprehend.

But if there was one thing he understood, it was the inequality born from the ruling class. It seemed that even C’leena’s home, this place called Melbourne, was not spared these injustices. He blinked, and suddenly they were soaring through the air, up into the sky, until Melbourne became a blip on the ground - and soon, even that landmass became small. So large it felt incomprehensible. And yet, he hovered like a star, watching this spinning globe, surrounded by so much smog he thought he might choke on it.

“Earth…” Populated only by humans, but filled with this pollution sickness and racism and injustice. It seemed an entirely different world than Charon, but fundamentally the same in the worst ways. Before Cyran could process the sickly realm he was looking at, he was whisked away to another world, one that seemed to remain close to earth the same way the sun and stars orbited Charon. And he listened as C’leena wove a grim tale of resource use and expansion, and forcing out resources from a world that had nothing to give until it was not little than a husk. The most horrifying part, though, was the flora in the domes. How beautiful they were, flourishing.

“I don’t understand…” He hummed. Cyran had seen constructs of steel that moved in their own, but they were all simple, and communicated in a language he couldn’t understand. In Charon, those had been constructed by Veliky - a friend of his. Was what C’leena describing the same thing?

“So it’s like an enchantment…” It wasn’t quite like an enchantment, but it was the best comparison Cyran could draw to understand what C’leena was saying. The developments in this Earth were complicated, and only seemed to breed more hatred. “You have advanced constructs here? What do they do?”

He shook his head.

“You’re more than fine. I’ve lived a long life, and seen more than my fair share of magical and technological developments in Charon.” Obviously nothing as extreme, but he was used to coming to terms with the way the world changed and morphed. And C’leena wanted to share her world, so he would try to listen.

“I suppose there’s only one question I have for you.”

He turned away from mars to look at her.

“How did you get from here to Charon…?”

Watching Cyran try to comprehend Earth and humanities technological advancements was amusing to say the least. The familiar look of trying to see everything clear on Cyran's face. She waited patiently for Cyran to ask any questions he may have, her attention on Mars and it's domes. Although she did say one thing: "If you'd like another look at something, let me know."

C'Leena didn't have to wait long for the first question. Regarding their AI and software. C'Leena smiled and flicked her wrist, a small rectangular object appearing in her hand. Tapping the screen, it turns on, displaying fuzzed out words and a clock moving too quickly to be accurate. Minutes pass in what feel like seconds. "This is a Phone. It let us access something called the Internet, which is essentially every single library on Charon, times fifty and accessible through this device anywhere you are. The internet holds all of humanities knowledge, and you can always find what you're looking for if you know what to ask for. From the mundane cooking recipes, to a step-by-step guide to making a nuclear reactor in your garage, it has it all.

"This also let us speak to people as if they were right next to us, even if they were on the other side of the planet. No matter what, we could press three buttons and get into contact with them. This is nowhere near the limit to what we've made." In front of them, a robot appears. It is very clearly a robot, but is incredibly human-like in it's construction. Emblazoned on it's chest are two words in common: 'Boston Dynamics'.

"This is far closer to what you'd consider a construct. Now, due to our glaring lack of magic, we had to do this the hard way. Again, we had to teach a rock," In her hand, a small CPU appears, no bigger than a thumbnail. "to think and act like a person. This is the result of that progress." Suddenly, the robot comes alive, the screen it uses as a face turning on and displaying a neutral expression. It readjusts it's balance, moving in a humanlike way, but there are still some flaws.

It looks at the both of them before clasping it's hands behind itself and speaking. It's voice holds the same accent as C'Leena, just far more understandable. "Good morning. I am Steven, a multi-purpose medical assistant. Please let me know if there is anything I am able to do to make your stay as comfortable as possible." The screen changes to morph the facial features into a happy expression.

"Most hospitals had these, so I worked with them fairly often. Generally, they are reserved for general assistance, but they can be used to perform surgery if there are no other options. It's not recommended because they're still experimental, but anybody would rather take a 75% chance of success over a 0% chance."

The machine remains still, smiling and waiting for input which C'Leena will not give. If anything, the robot is remaining there for Cyran to interact with if he so chooses. Now for his second question. She turns toward Cyran, her hands finding their way into her pockets at some point.

"That is your second question." She says, chuckling lightly. "Nah but, I got yanked here by a summoning spell. Apparently it wasn't even intentionally, initially aiming for somebody different. I got here, all my tech was changed into their magical counterparts and the wizard looked more irritated than anything. Gave me a bag, some food and sent me on my way." She shrugs. "Nothing I could control. That does tell me that if he was able to pull me from somewhere that has no magic, there has to be a way back. Even if I don't plan on staying on earth."

"Nah, I got a woman who loves me here on Charon, I've been slowly on the mend with everything. I'm.. Happy, Cyran. Only reason I'd come back is to visit Rose for real." C'Leena truly is happy, and looks it. Despite all the crying she's done today and the grieving, she's no longer cooped up inside to marinate in her sorrows. She adventures the lands with Nephele, gets to do the most stupid shit with magic and just live life.

For the longest time, she was a firm believer that, with the prosthetics and the scars, she'd be alone. But Nephele had come in and put those concerns to rest. Nephele is a woman that C'Leena will forever treasure. All these thoughts running through her mind had put a smile on her face during the silence.

The concepts that C’leena was explaining were difficult for Cyran to wrap his head around. She’d pulled out some flat tablet that seemed to glow with a enchantment that Cyran was beginning to realize was this reality’s equivalent of magic. The idea of an entire library being contained in that slab was absurd - and yet, Cyran believed it. What excited him, though, was the idea of being able to speak to a companion at long distances.

“Oh!” His eye widened at the explanation. He held out his hand, a small conch shell manifesting in the palm of his hand. He held it up so C’leena could see, excited at the idea of being able to relate to C’leena and show her what he had. “My goddaughter and I have something similar. We can speak to one another over great distances through these enchanted shells. It’s kind of like a phone, yes?”

Evidently this was not the only use for these developments. C’leena was quick to show him another type of construct, one that reminded him once more of Veliky’s steel automatons - though those were clearly built with function over form in mind. Those constructions were made from steel and elements from Charon, with sweeping red eyes and almost avian-like clawed feet and a strange, chittering language that Cyran couldn’t properly understand. These constructs looked and spoke like people, and their humanoid form only seemed to make Cyran unnerved. If C’leena was paying attention she would notice the older elven man flinch back in surprise as the construct sprang to life and began speaking. He almost seemed to resemble a startled bird staring at the uncanny creature.

“… It’s a doctor?” He murmured, surprised. He couldn’t imagine a little enchanted rock shoved into a metal puppet capable of something that real, thinking people were. But according to C’leena, it was possible. Even though he was sure it was quite harmless, he still kept his distance, not unlike a wary housecat. The automaton was still… so still. Not quite staring at him, not quite alive. Just empty. He turned to C’leena, a frown on his features.

“I don’t know if I like these, C’leena. So it’s like one of your phon-eys, but in a humanoid body? And instead of magic to heal, surgeons and doctors get help from enchanted rocks?” He rubbed at his temple… working through the logistics of this were beginning to give him a headache. “Your world is very advanced in different ways… and yet so backwards from Charon. At least magic and enchantments make sense.”

That was to be expected of a world dominated by humans, he supposed. With a long lifespan it was difficult for Cyran to comprehend change the same way others did - the reason why even smaller developments and world events felt like catastrophes to him. But humans were innovative, young, and adaptable. Burning bright with the curiosity of comets and burning out just as quickly. This place, earth, was clearly some sort of pinnacle of human innovation… and a testament to their hubris.

It came as somewhat of a surprise that C’leena had been brought here by an accident of all things. Magic that complicated - strong enough to pierce through the fabric of reality and pluck someone from another world - it felt too complicated and precise to result in an accident like this. The suspicious part of the assassin wondered if C’leena might be part of a plot bigger than herself. A conspiracy involving a doctor from another world, with knowledge and power that would be useful to those selfish enough to seek it out.

… But no, that couldn’t be the case.

Surely those were just the rambling thoughts of a paranoid old man.

He returned her smile with a tired one - perhaps a little overwhelmed, but genuine. He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad that you’ve found genuine happiness here in Charon. And here or there, it doesn’t matter - so long as you are safe and cared for. And if you have that here with Nephele, then that’s something really special. A love that has bridged worlds.” He squeezed her shoulder tighter - not unbearably so, but serious. “You hold her close, okay? And you enjoy your time with her. Enjoy this happiness.”

Then, quieter, but just as genuine-

“You deserve that, kid.”

The sudden excitement from Cyran being able to show her his own item that does something similar is frankly adorable. She looks at the shell, nodding. "Yeah, it's similar enough. That is actually pretty cool, where did you get it?" She asks, finding Cyran's excitement slightly contagious. It's clear that Cyran's goddaughter means a lot to him.

Now, Cyran's discomfort around the droid isn't surprising in the slightest. Many people find them uncanny, which is why they're mostly kept to nightshift assistance, where most people are asleep. "Strictly speaking, it's a Medical Assistance Droid. It can't be a doctor because - technically speaking, it doesn't hold the qualifications to be a doctor."

"Dr. Thomas is correct," The machine confirms. "I apologize if my appearance causes discomfort. Boston Dynamics are hard at work trying to make newer versions that appeal more to human senses. What you may be experiencing now is a phenomenon known as the 'Uncanny Valley'. Due to my appearance, pattern recognition in your brain both does and does not recognize my features as human, thus causing discomfort and, in some more extreme cases: Fear, panic and stress."

"..What it said, yes. But as for the phone comparison.. Maybe? They have the same technology, but the method is different. Like a cooking recipe. Same ingredients but two different methods create different dishes." C'Leena pauses, trying to find a way to explain the 'rock' association. "It's far more complicated than just a rock, and do remember, there is no magic involved. Earth never had magic - or at least didn't have access to it."

"See, now you understand how I feel when I first got to Charon. I understand tech - I understand this," C'Leena motions to the Droid who waves, then vanishes. "I worked with technology constantly. I made my own software, I put together my own prosthetics. Theoretically speaking, I could teach you how to do what I do. I won't cause I'm afraid you'll have an aneurism, but my point still stands."

There was a pause as Cyran processed things and thought about what was said to him. Eventually, he places a hand on her shoulder, smiling. C'Leena flinches away from the contact, but almost looks annoyed at herself as she pushes Cyran's hand back onto her shoulder. There is a mild discomfort in her features, but she looks determined to ignore it. Cyran could very easily feel the burn scars - the coarse, almost papery feeling to them. As Cyran speaks, C'Leena smiles.

"Cyran, I'd never let her go. Brother, I did the stupidest thing imaginable and it worked. Do you understand how well shit has to line up for me to kiss her like, an hour and a half after meeting her and have it work out? It's been five months and I'm already wanting to propose to her. If you think I'm letting this go, you're out of your mind."

C'Leena pauses, looking down slightly. "Thank you, though. Really. We've known each other for, what? Two, three hours tops? You've already helped me through so much and gave me a chance to show you this," She pauses, hanging her head lower. "..You let me see my sister again. Let me talk to her again, even if it was built off a memory."

She clears her throat and looks back up, smiling. "Thank you. I truly do think that I belong here, despite me getting stabbed way more often." She chuckles to herself, not even mad about it. "So, what happens now?" She asks, seemingly out of things to show. She could of course show Cyran the ugly parts, but that is best left for another day if this happens again.

“She found them on the beach and had them enchanted.” He explained. “And then she gave one to me… it’s a handy tool. She can call me if she’s ever in danger, or just whenever she wants to talk. It’s quite handy - even when there’s distance between us I still feel connected to her.” He grinned. “I suppose that makes those little tablets pretty handy, huh?”

When the automaton spoke up once more, apologizing for making Cyran uncomfortable, he flinched backwards at the sound again, clearly not expecting it to respond to the words he was saying. And yet, it had very clearly recognized Cyran’s discomfort and offered apologies for that. At least… those were the words it spoke. And yet, something pinged in the back of Cyran’s mind - a concise surety that it could not possibly mean what it was saying. Offering apologies, but not truly sorry. Not truly capable of understanding what it meant to be sorry.^[1]

“It’s okay.” Cyran murmured. This, too, was a lie.

“It’s not any different than a construct like a golem back home, really. A body - a shell - but no will of its own. Just enough wherewithal to carry out instructions. It’s a sad existence.” More than anything he just felt pity for the poor creature. Unable to do anything but offer apologies it didn’t mean and carry out surgeries that it technically couldn’t think deep enough about to comprehend. All it could do was perform the motions.

The cooking metaphor made sense though. C’leena would see something like dawning comprehension on Cyran’s face, as if he was finally able to grasp the words she was saying. “So they threw a rock and a phone in a pot and heated it up…”

Or perhaps he was taking them too literally.

“Well, you can always try to teach me if you want. I can’t promise I’ll understand, but as grim as it is, it’s fascinating. And it’s clearly something you’re passionate about.” He murmured in response to her comment on learning prosthesis. It was always interesting to learn new things. He understood magic now, but not too long ago it has been as foreign to him as phones and personal care assistants. It just took time, and he had plenty of that.

“You kissed her within an hour and a half of knowing her?” Cyran asked incredulously. Considering it had taken him months to acknowledge that he was capable of feeling love, much less that he loved Del - and even longer to consider himself even worthy of possibly acting on them when she deserved so much better - the idea of love happening so quickly was absurd to him. But C’leena was clearly smarter than she was. She knew what she wanted, and had no intention of committing self sabotage in the face of that happiness. More than that - she was content.

A genuine smile crept up on his face at the thanks offered by C’leena. “There’s no need to thank me. I promised to help. And I’m sincerely happy to give you a moment of peace, even if it’s not reality. It feels real, and sometimes that’s enough. I only wish I could do more.” And he meant every word. But he was unfortunately more adept at destroying things than he was creating them. He could not repair what the fire had done to her, but at the very least Cyran could give her a couple happy moments again. A memory of a sister’s smile and the love reflected in her eyes. That made this whole venture worth it.

“We wake up.” Cyran answered. If C’leena were to look around she would notice the edges of her consciousness blurring, the picture distorting and growing fuzzy at the images. Cyran could never walk among dreams for long. He had to leave before the darkness of the unwaking world pulled him under and threatened to hold him in the shadows for good. “I’d love to see more of your world, but perhaps we save that for another meeting. A less heavier conversation, perhaps.” Spoken with the surety that there would be another meeting after this chance encounter. C’leena was an adventurer, a wanderer. If they didn’t cross paths again at the very least, he would be quite surprised.

But for now, it was time for them to leave the dream. In the last couple moments C’leena would watch as the android’s form seemed to glitch and distort before she was pulled out of her unconsciousness entirely - and found herself back on the forest floor, with Cyran still holding her hand in his where he meditated.

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1. Insight Rune