Dinner Date with Fate
"And I just – it's never been this bad, Cyril!" Solaria clutched her head in her claws.
She had managed to catch the guardian of ice alone in his office, essentially trapping him.
Cyril had all the time in the world for the dragoness, but he was admittedly getting weary of these repetitive talks. However, he still tried his best to be supportive and offer encouragement or advice where he could.
"You are not giving him a chance, my dear. You simply need to have more faith in him," Cyril replied, trying to conjure up some optimism in the dragoness.
"I have, though," she proclaimed, throwing her claw out towards him. "But this was a terrible mistake. I shouldn't have involved Cynder…"
Cyril tutted. Her jealousy of the dragoness was clouding her judgement. "No, you certainly have not. You need to have trust in Spyro."
Again, the dragoness threw back his words with retort. "I do trust him. It's her that I have the issue with. I'm scared that he'll find something in her that I don't have…"
"Listen to yourself prattle," Cyril said with a bit more injection. "You are perturbed by the idea of Spyro spending time with Cynder. That is not trust. You are letting your emotions take control of a delicate matter."
"So I am the problem?" She glared at the guardian with daggers.
Cyril inwardly groaned and mentally dragged his paw down his face. Then he took a deep breath. "Of course not. But you need to take a step back, become a spectator instead of compelling yourself towards the centre. You need to let this happen naturally."
"But if I'm not there to keep tabs on things, then–"
"No," Cyril countered. "This is special to Spyro. Cynder is special to him. But not in that way. By driving yourself into that special place, you are giving him more reasons to rebel and potentially risk devastating the only chance your marriage has."
Cyril could see the look of deject on her; however, he wasn't done. "If he opens this special place to you, then feel honoured, for he obviously trusts you enough to share it. But you cannot force yourself in. Give Spyro some space, otherwise he will never flourish."
"Are... Are you sure?"
Cyril nodded. "I am certain."
Solaria still held her gaze of uncertainty, fidgeting with her tail.
"Let Spyro have tonight with her alone. Don't even mention it in the morning, and I promise you there will be positive results. Okay, dear?"
"...Okay."
Cyril could still sense some apprehension from her, but was satisfied he'd at least gotten through. Now he prayed he wasn't wrong...
Spyro was exhausted. The strain of yesterday in combination with the restless sleep of last night meant he could barely keep his eyes open. But, even then, he had his own set of tasks he wanted to complete.
Today was meant to be a good day, another day to unwind and also dinner with Cynder in the evening. And yet… he felt like finding a dark hole to curl up and hibernate in and get away from it all. But even though he questioned the purpose of it all, he marched on.
He was tired of it all and knew that everyone else was as well. But nothing could break this endless loop. If he tried to or told anyone, it would rock him back and forth with emotions, breaking the thin strain holding back the beast. If those ropes snapped, then, well, that was a fate worse than anything he was living now. All he could do was endure for as long as possible…
He was stuck in this pit of depression, but it was the best he had.
This was his life: an endless stream of questioning trapped in the body of a zombie. A series of whys challenged by burdened stamina, both stuck in a hollow shell. Both wanted to make their host happy, but their constant wars had worn him down.
In this case, stamina had won out. Even though he felt empty, he still thought to go the extra mile for Cynder. Shortly after his brisk exit this morning, he'd paid a visit to his normal secret market. As usual the patient stall-keepers greeted him with cheesy yet sincere smiles, beckoning him over to gawk at their glistening loot.
This market consisted mostly of jewellers and grocers and was where he often went to pay his monthly tributes to his goddess.
This time, though, it was for a different goddess.
He glossed over the many different pieces: necklaces, bracelets and crowns tried to lure him in. But the purple dragon had grown immune to their simple charms.
It would take something extra special for him to be swayed, and that was exactly what he was looking for.
A part of the reason he was looking for a gift was that he felt indebted to Cynder. Ever since the failure surrounding the jewelry he tried to bestow on her, he'd wanted to get her something to replace it.
Most of what he saw was adequate at best. Even in his tired state he could spot the tiny scratches or worn paint. But it was better for everyone if he didn't mention anything.
He was about to saunter past another stall when a particular piece in the back corner of the display caught his attention. He stopped in front of it, his curiosity evident.
The mole keeper eagerly rubbed his paws, waiting for his 'valued' customer to make a decision. Spyro evaluated the piece humbly sitting at the back, looking for those inconsistencies that plagued the other ornaments.
It was a simple piece, a silver chain-link designed for the neck. Maybe it was the bracelets she wore before, but he always thought silver looked good on her.
As he got a closer look, however, he realised it was actually a locket. This piqued his interest even more. The hollow centrepiece was shaped like a smooth clam shell. It was actually quite large for what it was, the size of a mole's pocket-watch, Spyro estimated, so it was clearly for dragons. A complex design, consisting of two rings, decorated the outer shell. The outer circle was shaped after the sun, with spiralled sunbeams encircling it. On the edge, written in dragon language, were the words 'The Smallest Key to the Greatest Potential.'
He didn't know what those words had to do with a locket, but they sounded wise regardless. Maybe a quote he simply didn't understand.
A small smile tugged on his maw. The longer he stared at it, the more he appreciated it. Beautiful on the surface, yet complex with the potential for greatness within. "Kind of like Cynder..." he thought.
He smiled and nodded, satisfied this was the one. He turned to the keen mole and spoke his request.
The mole happily clapped his paws together and went to retrieve the silver locket. The furry creature unlocked the display case and allowed Spyro to pick it up. After the exchange of gems and silver, Spyro moved on. He was happy with his purchase and knew Cynder would be too.
He was looking forward to dinner tonight again, despite what had happened. He did worry what Solaria would think even if she did give her approval in an odd way, but nothing she could say would be worse than yesterday.
However, none of this subtracted from the fact he was on the verge of falling asleep. He needed somewhere to nap.
The obvious answer was to go home, but he knew if he did turn up, Solaria wouldn't allow any of it, no matter how much he needed it.
He felt bad because he was also avoiding his son –- the air in his lungs and fire in his heart. Tomorrow, though, he promised to himself he would spend every waking moment with him.
But for now he needed a couple of hours of sleep, and the garden was the perfect place for it.
The purple dragon shivered under the chilly breeze, bringing him forth from his slumber. It was colder today than it had been previously, despite it being the height of summer.
With the sun's rays as his blanket and the bird's cheerful chirps as the only sound, it didn't take long to lull him to sleep in his garden of peace.
He took a wide yawn. He didn't know why, but waking up in such a place at his own accord felt so refreshing. That rest was much needed.
His eyes finally opened enough to take in what was in front of him, pretty flowers like those from his dreams. He smiled. This transition from dream to reality had been the best one in a long time.
He remembered he had dinner with Cynder coming up, but didn't know how long until then. He stretched his claws and wings, shaking the fatigue from his scales.
He looked down to make sure the gift was still there. Sat undisturbed was the little black box, covered in felt. It was the thing beside it that baffled him. A humble white plate of cracker crumbs. Why would someone leave a plate of crumbs beside him?
It took him a second to realise what had happened, and he laughed.
Sometimes the gardener would bring out these crackers if he noticed the purple dragon destressing in his garden, but the birds must've gotten to it while he slept.
Spyro always appreciated it regardless. He'd always try to pay the kind mole back, but he only ever took gratitude.
Spyro thought for a moment. What would a mole want besides money? He remembered something about how dragon scales could be used as a form of currency in some trades, often to make magic-resistant armor or jewelry for the more delicate or lustrous scales. He remembered Solaria had once wanted one so she could carry a piece of him wherever she went.
Now, he didn't know how much his own scales went for, but perhaps the gardener could find a use for such rare materials.
He searched his own body, looking for older scales begging to be broken off or ones that looked the least painful to pull off. He didn't yet have the luxury of shedding scales like some older dragons did.
He finally settled on a tiny cluster on his side. They weren't going to come off easy, but neither were any of the others.
He bit his tongue as he picked them off one by one, each with a stinging objection, until he had about five and a sore side. It would take a while to heal, but he'd live. He left those scales scattered on the plate.
He felt a bit sad that he wasn't the one to eat those crackers, but they'd gone to a better cause and he was going to have a scrumptious meal later anyway. Which reminded him, what time was it?
He looked to the sun, blocked by oak trellises and thick vines. The orange beams were coming at him horizontally.
"That can't be right…" He padded over to a section with an unblocked view of the horizon. As it turned out, it was right. He was late.
The sun barely peaked over the city walls, basking the sky in orange that gave way to green and then blue. He cursed in his head as he immediately got ready to go. He scooped up the tiny box and shot out from the garden sanctuary towards the Angry Blazer. He hoped he wasn't too late.
The street was bare of people. Only a couple of shop-keepers closing for the evening and drunkards roamed about. None of them paid any attention to the purple dragon. This was the reason Spyro liked coming here on weekdays; the street was empty and no one spared him a second look.
He walked between the two iconic flamethrowers bellowing into the evening skies and headed inside.
A familiar darkness encroached. This place was normally illuminated only by candlelight and the namesake's fiercely fiery cookers in the centre. However, the burners the place was known for barely even purred. They sizzled gently with a few porkdog sausages.
As he expected, the place was sparse with people, with a few groups on the outside and several lonely souls sitting around the central bar. A familiar crazy mole and one of his subordinates catered to the average drunkard's simple needs for booze.
He couldn't see Cynder here, though, despite the darkness. Maybe she hadn't arrived yet…?
He weaved around chairs and tables, occasionally bumping into the abandoned furniture. He noticed the recognisable dart board clinging to the wall for dear life. This time, though, it had a crack sliced diagonally through it from one side to the other. Several layers of tape had been wrapped around to hold it together like a mummy. There was a scary story behind that and Spyro was certain of the culprit…
As he got closer, the scent of those sausages wafted up his nose, only reminding him of his grumbling hunger. He made his way over to the worn counter, certain the mole with the brilliantly curved moustache had spotted him.
"Ah, purple boy is here!" He waddled over, flapping his paws open, almost ready to give the drake a hug. His enthusiastic greeting could've been seen as slightly misleading because of the large knife in his hand. The one he called Gran's Revenge, no less. It was Banzai's trademark knife, named after some incident involving a very unlucky thief, Spyro believed.
A couple of the locals turned slightly with mild interest, but nothing more. Why would they bother if he wouldn't?
"Hey, Banzai. It's been a while." He gave a wave back.
"Too long!" He waved his hands in the air like a crazed lunatic. "Make Uncle Banzai sad. No you, no business! You come back tomorrow as well, make up for absence!"
Spyro frowned. "I don't know about tomorrow…"
Banzai laughed. "I joke. Banzai happy anytime you visit!"
Spyro chuckled along with him. He should've expected it, but for some reason, he was apprehensive about tonight. Why was he so nervous? "Anyway, have you seen Cynder? We were meant to meet after sunset."
"Aaaah!" He waved a knowing finger. "Beautiful dragoness? Yes, she upstairs. She very eager to see you." He nodded slowly, a smirk dancing in his beady black eyes.
Spyro blushed. "No, it's not like that!"
Banzai couldn't hide the smile any longer. He roared with laughter at his jokes, much to the ignored disapproval of those around who had been hoping for a quiet night to brood.
Spyro couldn't help but grin sheepishly.
"Again, I joke. I know you and her not involved like that. You have wife for that! I respect family man!"
This was going to be a long night if he kept those jokes up – not that Spyro minded his time with Cynder to seem longer.
"Follow Banzai. He take you to see the lady." He stabbed Gran's Revenge into the woodwork and cleaned his hands on a grubby towel nearby before barking orders to his employee to watch the bar.
He led the dragon towards the familiar door at the back leading upstairs. It did surprise Spyro that Cynder was given the same treatment as he was, but he was thankful she was.
It was a familiar journey, but the steps never got any wider. Banzai barged through the doorway at the top, letting light flood into the otherwise dark stairwell.
Inside was the usual squabble the mole called home. The creaky bed with the grey bedsheet half-draped across the floor, the cupboards more attacked than the dummies at the barracks, and the table dragged to the centre of the room with a black dragoness behind.
Her excitement was hardly contained. A big grin stretched across her maw and her tail swept the area behind her like an out-of-control hose.
"You came!" she exclaimed.
Her smile was infectious. "Sorry for being late, Cyn. I… I got held up," he replied, too embarrassed to admit he overslept, as the mole sat him down on the opposite side of the walnut table.
It was quite cramped with two youngish dragons taking up most of the room. But Banzai couldn't care less since he could now brag about hosting two of Warfang's most iconic heroes.
Thankfully, Banzai intervened with the sweet question of food. "What would lovely lady and gentleman be having this evening?"
"Venison, please," she answered without hesitation.
After a second, Spyro made up his mind. "I'll have the steak then, please. Medium to well done."
"Ah… House specials. Excellent. Banzai will prepare immediately."
"Ooh!" Cynder's claw chased after the mole out of arm's reach. "Can I have mine without the spices?"
Banzai spun around. "What? No spices? But it bring out flavour and aroma!"
"I know." Cynder looked sheepish, as if she'd just offended the chef. "I just prefer it without."
"Bah! Fine." He stomped off. It was hard to tell if he was genuinely annoyed or simply feinting another reaction like before.
"Actually…" Spyro raised his own claw.
The mole turned again with that same mildly irate look.
"Never mind…"
The greasy-clothed mole looked back and resumed his journey down the stairs.
Cynder gazed at Spyro. "What's wrong? Did you not want yours with spices either?"
"It's fine. Solaria hates when I'm too picky."
Cynder rolled her eyes and smiled. "Solaria isn't here, Spyro. Besides, there is nothing picky about changing one thing. Hey Banzai! Make that two dinners without spices!"
"Imbeciles! Potatoes of veggies, you are!" the thick, nasally accent shouted back, much to the amusement of Cynder.
She laughed, despite Spyro having a worried look on his face.
After a moment, she stopped. But her love for fun at that moment didn't. Now that they were alone, they could talk properly. "Anyway, what got you held up? Was it Solaria?
Spyro squirmed. That name only brought up bad memories of the night before.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, no," Spyro tried to assure. "Let's just forget about her. Tonight is about us."
She didn't look convinced, but thankfully her smile returned with a flourish. Cynder shook with anticipation, which got Spyro's curiosity going.
"Sorry, I've just been so looking forward to spending tonight with you. I have so much to say."
"Really?"
"Of course. This is how I'd hoped it would be when I got back. Just me and you spending time together. I mean, I know I have to share you with others, but still… it's nice."
Something about her sincerity set him at ease. It had been a long time since anyone had said that and meant it. Maybe now would be a good time to return that kindness.
"I've got something to say," both spoke at the same time. They giggled.
"You first," Spyro insisted, pushing the imaginary spotlight over to her.
"Alright." She took a deep breath, her smile disappearing. "I quit the guard."
Spyro choked on his words. His eyes widened in dismay. "What?!"
Cynder raised her claws. "Wait, hear me out. Instead, I'm becoming a bounty hunter."
That still didn't clear things up. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "What? Why?!"
"After a hard session of thinking, I decided it wasn't meant for me. But, as a hunter, I can still earn a ton of gems and provide a valuable service to Warfang and the guard by returning wanted criminals or hunting rogue groups of monsters. On top of that, I still get to enjoy my love for adventure and fighting and can do it whenever I want."
This rush of information sent Spyro spinning in his head. "What?!"
He could see her staring at his perplexed expression, a meager smile hoping he would swallow what she had revealed.
"It's okay, I'll give you a moment to think about it."
So he did. The sudden news of her becoming a bounty hunter spun him around like a whirlwind, but eventually he managed to find his footing. "But why?" He could feel himself starting to bubble inside.
"Like I said, the guard isn't for me. Too strict for me and Adonis was kind of annoying. I mean, this is perfect for me, wouldn't you agree?"
He scratched his cranium harshly. "I mean, I guess…?"
He could see her as a bounty hunter, and a damn good one at that. But still, wasn't this being too irrational? What about all the hard work that went into joining the guard? Too many questions collided in his head, crashing together like hammers on bells. Not only that, this disbelief was feeding his anger. How could she be so stupid?
"Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't thought of this."
"Huh?" He stopped scratching his head and instead stared at the whimsical dragoness.
"I could totally see you doing this." She stood up and pointed a talon at him. "Me and you, exploring the world! Hunting down the criminals of Warfang. Nothing could stop us. I can see them already, groveling at our feet at the very sight of the purple dragon." Her paw gestures matched the passion of her words.
This sidestep had once more dragged Spyro in a direction he didn't expect to be going in. Yet he couldn't help but float in this make-believe reality of hers. Something about it sounded... familiar, yet he couldn't pin that feeling.
"It would honestly be like before, but, you know, without the danger of the world ending."
Spyro sat back, his mind at ease. That was the feeling. Like the past. He missed those days, as few as they were. When he was actually helping people and not parading around, coasting on an event that happened ten years ago. He could forgive Cynder this time around.
"So, what do you say?"
"Huh?" He looked back up to the dragoness. She had an inquisitive look of eagerness.
"Would you become my partner once more?"
There was a hidden excitement behind that question. One displayed through her fidgeting.
"I...I can't," he replied. He looked down. How cruel it was for life to offer this opportunity, only to have him chained to his current choices.
"Why not?" Cynder was affronted by his answer, but wasn't giving up that easily. "You clearly looked like you wanted to, so what's stopping you?"
Spyro combed his brain for excuses. "I'm not good at fighting anymore, so I would just hold you back. Besides, we don't know how much it earns, and I've got a family to support."
"Firstly, you are the freaking purple dragon. Secondly, fighting is like flying. You never forget once you've learnt. Sure, it might take a little time, but after a while you'll be back in awesome condition. I've already spoken to Banzai, who's got me in contact with some of his old buddies, and you know what he told me? He said that with my skill I could probably knock out two bounties and earn two hundred gems a day, give or take. Between us that's four jobs; split the prize fifty-fifty and we are set!"
That was a ridiculous amount of gems to be made, even in his line of work. The offer was just so damn tempting. Too tempting.
Yet one thing held him back, one big thing...
"Solaria wouldn't allow me to."
Cynder found this answer more humorous than anything, which irked Spyro. "And? She isn't the boss of you. You should be able to make your own decisions."
"But she's the breadwinner in our family. What she says goes… Look, I don't want to talk about it." He secluded himself once more.
"But–"
"No!" His voice rose in intensity, his eyes glaring at the startled and disheartened dragoness.
"Alright…"
Silence fell like snow. He'd done it again.
"Look, I'm sorry. I just don't like talking about some stuff… that being one of them."
"I understand. We've all got subjects we don't want to talk about. But Ignitus taught me that if you don't talk to people about your issues, then they won't ever be solved… It's how I overcame my own personal issues."
Spyro wanted to respond, but stifled his next question. However, he couldn't let the conversation die. There was something about her beckoning him, something loosening those chains. He just needed more time to understand these feelings. "Can we talk more about him? About Ignitus…? I liked those times."
Cynder smiled. "Of course."
They talked for what seemed like ages. The conversation flowed from one subject to another. Dinner came and went, served by the proud lunatic of a mole, who then let them be both chowing down on the succulent meat. The tender juices oozed out, packing their maws with flavour. Cynder practically begged the ancestors for more while Spyro savoured each bite. He had to agree that no spices helped bring the full taste out of the steak.
Cynder did lack manners at times, such as speaking with her mouth full, but he couldn't appreciate her company enough. As they spoke about Ignitus and the knowledge he imparted to the dragoness, he began to realise that she really had wised up. While she was impulsive at times, that didn't necessarily mean she made bad decisions. Not only that, she had really opened up, no longer the shy dragoness that tried to hide from her past.
Instead, she was this curious and kind soul, full of life and ready to take on anything. She knew what she wanted. It reminded him of himself… Well, his old self anyway.
He'd really fallen far, hadn't he? He was so scared of what could happen that he'd forgotten what it was like to enjoy life, to embrace those he had around him.
But Cynder used to be the same, afraid to talk to anyone about her past apart from him. Yet after presumably talking with Ignitus, here she was, the polar opposite. It was almost laughable how the two had switched roles.
Maybe that was what he should do…
"Hey, you okay?"
"Huh?" He shook his head, realising he had been wandering in his head. "Yes, sorry. Just thinking."
Cynder's concerned expression remained. "Alright. Just know you can say anything to me. You know I won't judge you. I've been there with you at your worst and your best. Okay?"
"Right…"
Same words, different dragoness.
And yet she was the right one; the right dragoness. Cynder had seen him at his best and his worst. She'd been there when he saved the world, the same world still held together by his magic. She'd also been there when he fell into the darkness, and dragged him back out.
She understood him in a way no other being could.
He took a deep breath. He was going to do it. When the time was right, he was going to voice his problems.
