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Tighnari hasn’t even been back in Avidya Forest for longer than ten minutes before he’s swamped by the other Watchers, being carried in Cyno’s sturdy arms as they finally get to the outskirts of Gandharva Ville.
“Are you okay?” They ask.
“Let me help!” They offer.
“Tell us what happened!” They order.
It’s all too much all at once.
“Back up!” Cyno comes to his rescue, so attuned to Tighnari after so long that he doesn’t even need to ask permission to override his authority.
The other Forest Watchers recoil visibly, some with shock, the rest with disgust, at being ordered around by a man they’ve only ever seen sneak into the village in the middle of the night only to disappear before dawn breaks.
Tighnari’s just glad that he doesn’t have to verbally confirm Cyno’s authority here. If he says nothing, that’s all the Forest Watchers need to hear.
Everyone parts to make a path to Tighnari’s hut, and he hates the way they look at him. Some sick part of his brain reminds him that this is the same exact way they stare at Collei after a sick spell.
So this is how she felt.
The pain is too great, electro resonance working its way through his bloodstream, for him to really care about how he looks; his Forest Watcher gear singed and all-but-burned-away.
He can feel the pulsing of the electricity as it forces its way through his airways, leaving him wheezing and coughing up sparks against Cyno’s shoulder, who just soothes him like it doesn’t sting, doesn’t hurt at all, with a gentle hand on his back.
Even if his vision was still whited-out he wouldn’t dare look at the faces of his people. They need him healthy, brave, not shivering in a stranger’s arms unable to speak.
He tries to not think about all of that too much, letting Cyno lay him down on his bed so he can shut the doors behind them both, shrouding the room in a heavier darkness than night.
Despite this, Cyno has no issues finding every oil lamp dotted around the room and lighting them one-by-one until he returns to Tighnari’s bedside, kneeling against the floor.
“I need to get you undressed.” He says, as straightforward as ever.
“Can it be considered ‘undressing’ if all I’m wearing are burned rags?” Tighnari croaks morbidly, his words trailing off into a hacking cough, purple light blooming in the hollow of his throat.
Cyno grumbles, then sighs, offering his hands palm-up to Tighnari. “Please?”
That seems to do it, Tighnari sliding his own palms across Cyno’s in reassurance.
For someone so curt, Cyno has never shown that side of himself to Tighnari, and he doesn’t now either, gentle in how he pulls the torn fabric from Tighnari’s shoulders and arms, dropping the scraps off to one side.
It feels good, Tighnari can’t deny that, the feeling of his skin being exposed to fresh, warm air, and the reverent, careful touches of his lover.
The pain is worth it, if he gets to have this.
He shivers through the pain of being disrobed, which is thankfully much worse than the embarrassment of being naked in front of Cyno. Lord knows he’s seen everything he’s seeing now, but without the context of intimate relations it just feels plain awkward.
Not that Cyno seems to care, of course, hands deft and caring where they skim over electrified flesh and still-sizzling burns.
Tighnari lets his head fall forward against Cyno’s shoulder, too tired to hold himself up, too tired to fake being fine as Cyno finishes, running gentle fingers along the Lichtenberg figures spidering their way up Tighnari’s bare back and chest, claiming portions of his upper arms with their glowing purple punishment.
Where the metal clasp for his cloak had been, the burns are the most vivid, a swarming tangled knot of purple that feels alive where it swims beneath Tighnari’s skin.
He’s felt the touch of electro before, if not from misunderstood forest creatures then from experiments gone wrong, but he’s never felt it like this; a constant, burning heat that pyro energy could never match up to, constant static ringing in his ears, every word spoken and heard as if bass-boosted, pins and needles sharper against his nerve endings than any thorned plant, any precise strike from an enemy.
He’s never felt such cruel, unending pain.
Whatever mercy he could possibly be afforded at this moment is overshadowed by the looming figure of an almost-god.
And funnily enough, Tighnari doesn’t hate his punisher.
No doubt Cyno does, however, biting down on his lower lip as if trying to keep his mouth shut as he runs his fingers through Tighnari’s hair, the one part of him that doesn’t hurt.
“Can you—“ Tighnari groans painfully, “tell me a joke?”
That seems to pull a laugh out of Cyno, at least.
“What did the lightning say to the firework?” He asks, leaning back so he can cradle Tighnari’s face in his palms.
Tighnari shrugs.
“Hey, you stole my thunder.”
It takes approximately a second for Tighnari’s laughter to devolve into wracking coughs, fingers twitching painfully where they grab onto Cyno’s mantle, the golden curve of metal around his neck.
“Alright, easy, ‘Nari.” Cyno soothes, pushing Tighnari’s fringe back from his face, wiping the electrified sweat dripping from his forehead.
“What can I do?” He asks.
Tighnari doesn’t know.
He’s not used to being so out of it that he doesn’t have at least one solution to a problem that arises out of nowhere.
Though he does find it slightly funny that said problem is him, of all things.
He shrugs, not knowing how long he’d just elected to not answer Cyno’s question. The static prickle of the electricity is ever-present as he moves, thrumming under his skin like it’s itching to get out.
“Come here,” Cyno says, settling atop the sheets beside Tighnari and scooting back, arms open, “Let me try something.”
Tighnari has never been one to refuse Cyno’s requests, no matter their importance or lack thereof, so he does as he’s asked, dragging himself laboriously the few scant inches over to his partner.
When Cyno takes him in his arms, bundles him up albeit a little uncomfortably against his Mahamatra uniform, the world seems to stop.
It doesn’t actually, Tighnari knows this, but it certainly feels as though it does.
The pain ceases, all of it, even the slight sting of tinnitus in his long ears from the clap of thunder, the ache in the soles of his feet from where the electricity tried escaping once it hit him.
He can hear the cawing of the dusk birds outside the hut, the hushed voices of his people no doubt huddled at the door, Collei’s slightly panicked timbre as she guides them away.
He also hears Cyno, his heartbeat irregular against Tighnari’s ear, stuttering much the same way his own had been. That, and the static sound of an electro vision straining under immense power.
He looks up, and sees the purple that wells beneath his skin drifting up and into the air between them, siphoning from one to the other.
Cyno gasps, once, painfully, and then lets out a rush of breath as Tighnari falls back, taking the lightning with him as the world starts spinning again, sending him into a wildly uncomfortable bout of vertigo.
And once again, he knows only pain.
“You—“ a painful cough, “you foolish man!” He shouts, sparks finding their way into the air from his mouth where they crackle and dissipate.
“It worked— it worked!” Cyno exclaims, crawling his way across the bed to bundle Tighnari back up in his arms. He’s not happy about it, at least not visibly, lips as downturned as they always are, but there’s hope in his eyes.
“Never do that again.” Tighnari warns, curling up into as tight of a ball as he can. “It hurts, yes. It is near unbearable— but I would never ask you to take it from me if it meant you would feel it instead.”
It takes all the energy Tighnari has to get the words out without throwing up bolts of electricity in the middle of it all.
“If you did — ask, that is — I’d do it.” Says Cyno, going back to brushing the hair from Tighnari’s eyes, the overgrown length of his fringe, petting along his twitchy ears.
“I know,” Tighnari shivers, “and it’s why I never will.”
He doesn’t need any particular skill to know that he’s pissed Cyno off, he just knows, the telltale wobble of his bottom lip that’s usually so stiff, the tiredness in his eyes from fatigue that goes far deeper than just skin.
If there was another way to ease his pain he’d take it, but there isn’t.
So he just settles in Cyno’s arms for long enough that Cyno just tips them onto their sides after a while, abandoning the sheets they would usually sleep beneath.
With his newfound sensory issues they would just make the pain worse than it already is.
Sleep, just as he expected, refuses to come to him. He’s alive, but so is the writhing energy of a lightning bolt contained within him.
Every slight movement brings pain, and the only point of contact that doesn’t is from Cyno, as he runs gentle, patient hands up and down Tighnari’s back, paying close attention to the apex of the burns where his cloak had once been.
Having a metal cloak clasp was a terrible idea, he realises now.
“I should get you washed up.” Says Cyno, his voice more a rumble than anything else with Tighnari’s head pressed up against his chest, ears flattened beneath his chin.
“Must you?” Tighnari asks, pulling up to look back at him. Even through the haze of unending pain he thinks Cyno looks beautiful.
He can feel the uncomfortable indent of Cyno’s metal mantle on his forehead, where he’d been bundled up close. It bothers him more than the lightning, in all honesty. He presses a hand against it as he stares up at Cyno.
“I must.” Cyno mimics, running his fingers along Tighnari’s ears, petting down his hair until he reaches the nape of his neck where he scratches softly. He does that for a while longer before detangling himself from their embrace.
“I’ll get Collei to run you a bath. I won’t be long.” He says, giving Tighnari’s cheek a gentle pat before disappearing through the front doors.
Somehow, the pain worsens when he leaves, thrumming through his very veins leaving him blackened and burned from the inside-out.
It’s unbearable, the ache of fire he knows isn’t there, the crackling of electricity beneath his skin that erupts from his fingertips, sparks from his mouth when he heaves for breath, the pain staggering him so much he can’t feel himself inhaling or exhaling.
He’s suspended in his own personal storm, and in his heart? He’s glad it was him who got struck.
Better him than Haypasia, or the Traveler, after all.
It feels like an eternity before Cyno returns, once to bundle Tighnari up in a robe, and then again to haul the metal tub into the main room. He then sits beside Tighnari, and they both wait for Collei.
As Tighnari had expected her to be, she’s antsier than ever, spilling a good amount of the water she brings into the hut as she does so. She’s healthy however, he can see this, eyes bright even with the worry furrowing her brows.
Though mild fear does clench at his heart at the realisation that while Collei didn’t deal with what he’s going through now, she definitely went through something similar, something equally as painful on her bad days.
He’s never been hard on her in her time under his care, but she’s been hard on herself. That fact almost hurts just as much as the electricity.
He doesn’t know how long it takes for her to fill the tub up with warm water, but she gets it done, and the only feeling better than sinking into the water is seeing her healthier than she’s ever been.
It makes him think of the Traveler in his mere moment of lucidity upon being submerged. He'll have to write them a thank you letter.
Cyno is as gentle as ever as he wipes the burns down, sponge followed closely behind by his hands as he checks each welt, runs his fingers along the bruises forming beneath Tighnari’s skin.
Tighnari can’t help but think of what their old classmates would think, what the other Matra would, if they were to see their General like this. It’s a thought that serves enough to pull him from his head a while.
Cyno, in the time between washing the blood from Tighnari’s ears and where it had dripped from his nose, has taken off his Matra uniform, shucked the metallic mantle from around his neck, the heavy belt and loincloth, leaving him in his shorts. He blows at the wisps of his fringe as he leans over the tub. Tighnari reaches up to tuck the white strands behind his ears, shaky but precise.
“Let’s brush those teeth, my love.” Asks Cyno, his voice heart-meltingly sweet where he presses his lips against Tighnari’s temple.
Tighnari lets Cyno go hunting for his toothbrush so he can do as he’d said, holding Tighnari gently by the chin as he thoroughly scrubs at each tooth, the sharp tips of his canines polished not long later.
There is no one as thorough as Cyno, Tighnari thinks as he is lifted out of the now-cool tub to be dried off. The pain has lessened now, somehow offset by the water, but he can still feel the low vibration of his skin, the endless ache he doubts will ever go away.
But it’s not unbearable anymore, and he can finally focus on his lover as he dries Tighnari off, snatching a heavy-knit blanket made from the roots of nilotpala lotuses. The fibers turn to fluff when spun, and for a short period of Tighnari’s life he’d spend what free time he had — which wasn’t a lot, in all honesty — knitting items and garments no inhabitant of a rainforest would ever think of using.
He’s rather happy he kept it now, as Cyno bundles him up in the fluffy white blanket and carries him to bed.
Sleep finds him much faster now, especially with his love at his side.
“Thank you, Cyno.” He manages to say, both combating rest and the bubbling sparks still working their way up his throat.
“Whatever you need, dear heart.” Comes Cyno’s response, along with a gentle kiss to Tighnari’s hair. As he’s falling to sleep, Tighnari remembers something Sage Naphis had said to him a long time ago.
"Nothing good bursts forth all at once. The lightning may dart out of a black cloud; but the day sends his bright heralds before him, to prepare the world for his coming."
Things are bad, but they’re getting better. And as long as Cyno is happy and Collei is healthy, Tighnari needs not worry about himself.
He drifts off into his first dream in a long time, and all is well.