A smooth breeze floats through Gandharva Ville, rustling leaves, caressing sunburnt skin, and soothing overactive minds that are just begging for rest.

Cyno is many things—a scholar, the General Mahamatra, terrible joke maker—but it is here in the Avidya forest where he feels most out of his depth, uncertainty tugging him under. It is strange. He is confident above all and knows that his skills are more than a cut above the rest, they are pristine.

He shuffles his feet, skin itching with awkwardness. "A day off," he tells himself as he sets down the path. The clear-cut, dusty trail is flanked by trees and the occasional Forest Watcher who gives him a stiff salute. Cyno sighs. He hasn't even said anything and they walk about him as though they stand on eggshells.

Perhaps if they take a step, the ground will crunch underneath their sandals, not unlike those imaginary shells that drag a grunt from his throat. He is here to rest, not to think of hypotheticals. That is for the likes of—

"Cyno!" Collei's voice pulls him from his thoughts, and Cyno turns to her instinctually. She stands there, stiff, but with a kind smile on her face.

He greets her with a gentle nod of his head. "Collei." He knows she is wary—not because she is scared, but rather the sight of him scrounges up bittersweet memories. His presence poisons her and not for the first time, Cyno thinks of her as a girl that is strong beyond her years.

Cyno steps to the side, planning on hedging around her. "If you would just—" She surprises him by reaching out and curling her fingers around his arm. "Collei," he repeats, his voice tipping soft like the breeze, "you don't have to force—"

"I want to see you," she cuts in. A pause, followed by a gentle laugh, like the tinkling of leaves. "Or rather, I'd like to try. I've been feeling better and I told myself that I should make more of an effort. You've only been kind to me."

Cyno hesitates before he answers. "It is my day off. I—"

"You?" She blinks back at him with youthful optimism.

"I wanted to…" He thinks of a joke so he doesn't look so imposing. Even with Collei smiling at him, stiff but at ease, Cyno worries that he might come off accidentally aggressive, an unfortunate side-effect of his position within the Akademiya.

"Relax?"

Cyno looses a breath, nodding in relief. "Times as such are few and far between. I find it quiet here. It's nice. I can hear myself think—what's with that look?"

Collei's gaze has morphed into something amused. "Are you sure that's the only reason?"

"I am not sure—"

"You aren't here to visit a certain mutual friend of ours, hm? Someone with, say, adorably pettable ears?"

His blood runs cold the moment it tumbles from her mouth. Collei's grin is knowing, foxlike with its tilt, her eyes half-lidded mischievously. "I—that's—no." The word sounds unconvincing, though, because she is correct.

Cyno explains away his ulterior motive with colorful words like it's only a day off, but there is little for him in the forest. He's a desert-dweller who prefers the feel of dusty sand underneath his feet, not the sharp thorns of the underbrush and twigs that snap underneath his toes.

Collei laughs at his expression, lighthearted and airy. "How adorable," she teases, needling at him. "I would think it more than a mere crush with that look on your face."

Because it is. Cyno has known Tighnari for years at this point. He's attractive in his perceptiveness and stubborn pride. In his sharp tongue and precious words that drag groans of annoyance from their peers. Tighnari graduated top of his class and well-respected only to leave the Akademiya for the lush greens of the Dharma Forest.

A slap to the face, all those years, all that study with his keen mind only to become a Forest Watcher. Cyno loves it, loves—

"What's that in your hand?"

Cyno cradles a bundle between his worn fingers, a handkerchief full of fragrant dried flowers plucked and picked on his adventures. When he shows Collei soft, fluttering gasp floats from her lips. "Oh, he'll like these," she says, petting a soft petal, head tilted as she sighs serenely.

If Cyno didn't know any better, she's in love with the idea that he is—

Definitely not in love. A weak claim, one he overlooks by claiming that it is merely like. He's allowed to like a man. That takes little effort and time even if he's taken an entire day to travel here just to give Tighnari a bag of dried flowers—

"It's a terrible idea," mutters Cyno, underwhelmed by his idea of a romantic gesture.

"It's a great idea," corrects Collei. She rolls the handkerchief back up and curls his fingers around it. "And, I have it on good authority that Tighnari will love to see you. He talks about you often and gets this soft look on his face—"

"Collei, that is enough." He snorts, waving away her words. "I don't need your proselytizing. I know he wants me here, he asked for me to come."

She blinks and the grin that spreads across her face reeks of impetuousness. Suddenly, Cyno is certain that he's lucky he's kept away. He's never considered the fact that she might be a troublemaker, meddling in the affairs of others. But, then again, he remembers Amber. He shouldn't be surprised.

Before he can retort, there's another voice, this one well-spoken and confident. "Oh? What's this?"

Cyno's face pinks at the sound and Collei nudges him with an elbow. "Tighnari," he blurts in a rush. And then nothing else. Why is he awkward? He is never awkward—

"Cyno!" Tighnari's face tightens with clear affection, the corners of his eyes and mouth crinkling.

Oh, thinks Cyno, his mouth going dry, throat bobbing as he struggles to think of words. It has never been this difficult—not until recently when his feelings snuck up and made themselves unbearably known. When he looks to Collei for help, she is gone, having melted into the brush as though she was never there.

Useless. Annoying. How dare she leave him there alone to fend for himself—though it's hard to fault her. Collei is the type to just throw herself into a situation and she doesn't see this as leaving him to the wolves, she sees this as helpful.

"Cyno? What's with that line in your brow?" Tighnari asks it kindly but his expression watches him critically, searching for any problems that he might find."

"Tired." A flimsy excuse. Tighnari's mouth tips into a subtle frown that most would miss. "It has been a long day and I haven't yet rested. I paused here to look at the beauty of the forest."

"Thinking about new jokes, no doubt." Tighnari doesn't sound amused by the idea.

It's an opening and Cyno takes his chance. "Ah, speaking of—"

"No, no."

"There is a rumor of a large tree, nestled into the slopes of Ardravi Valley. They say that it is the world's sleepiest tree. What is its name?"

Tighnari doesn't answer, he doesn't even blink. His mouth just tenses and he crosses his arms across his chest, ears flickering as he waits in annoyance. Cyno counts one, two, three, allowing for an adequate time to pass before landing the punchline.

"Mesnoozelah."

"Cyno, I cannot with you—"

"Ah, how about another? I'm finding the trees to be incredibly insightful, muses in their own right. Did you know that Brightwood has a favorite Akademiya study? Geometree—"

"Absolutely absurd," says Tighnari, reaching out to push at Cyno's shoulder. The heat of his fingers is blistering, even through the fabric of Cyno's shirt. "Come on, let's get you into the village to sit, at least. I'll brew you some tea. Have you met Karkata yet? It's an interesting specimen, one outside the usual purview of my expertise, but it's been useful in field research because…"

Tighnari tugs him down the path, his hand warm against Cyno's wrist. He talks animatedly and with gusto, words flying quickly as they head deeper into the village. Cyno smiles, finding it cute.

Later, when Cyno is settled into a seat at Tighnari's home, belly full of food and throat warmed by a hot cup of tea, he remembers his gift. The pouch has been burning a hole in his pocket from the moment he sat down.

Tighnari sits close, quieter now as the night settles in. Their knees touch, friendly, kind, all sorts of pretty words that make Cyno's heart leap into his throat. "Tighnari," he says, "I…have a—well, not quite a gift. In my travels, I think of you and it was only natural for me to pick these as the end result."

He drops the pouch into Tighnari's hand and watches as the handkerchief is carefully unfolded. Petals of many colors flutter about, dried and curled, smelling sickly sweet like potpourri. Tighnari thumbs through them, studying with a keen, observant eye as though he would any new specimen.

"It isn't much."

"I like it," says Tighnari. His cheeks are pink and he clears his throat. "That is to say, I can't be everyone at once. I thank you for bringing me field samples to add to my research."

He reaches out to take Cyno's hand, though, despite his stilted words that shove of romantic responsibility. Tighnari's fingers are calloused, rough from his Forest Watching and drawing a bow. He smooths a thumb across Cyno's palm, tracing the lines in his skin as he thinks.

Cyno's heart leaps into his throat. He bites at his lips, waiting, but Tighnari is patient in the way that he holds his hand.

And, well, if Tighnari makes the first move and crosses the distance for a kiss, the only one who knows is Cyno, the feel of Tighnari's soft lips seared into his mind. The trees aren't gossips for they have no mouths.