Chapter Text
Faruzan liked to tell Tighnari that he was neither the product of a mortal's loin, nor was he the whimsical creation of a deity. Rather, she told him that he was a passion project, a show of her genius. He had burst forth from her garden in the form of one last gift from that season’s extraordinarily bountiful harvest. There were many ways that gods and goddesses could be born, but Tighnari was special.
Tighnari shared no traits with his mother. Rather, he was just a small fox when he first came about. He ran around on four legs, sporting a fluffy tail he clumsily attempted to balance himself with. He chased butterflies and rolled around in flower fields. And then, when he was feeling particularly mischievous, he would make flowers grow and grow until the entire field was overflowing with pollen, making nearby nymphs and naiads sneeze with the lingering particles in the air.
The nymphs and naiads didn’t mind as much as they claimed to, despite the fuss they kicked up, for who could truly be upset with a kit as adorable as that?
When he was a mere six months of age, Faruzan had decided to bring her child up to the Olympians. Look, look, she said, this child found himself in my harvest last winter. I was getting the fields ready for spring when I noticed a strange plant growing out of the ground. Upon trying to harvest it, instead of any fruit or vegetable, it was this child, my son, that I found within the folds of the plant’s peculiar blossom..
The gods oohed and aahed at the sight of this tiny creature stumbling about their pearlescent halls. The ruler of the Olympians, a wise deity who had been named Nahida by the creators before her, bestowed Tighnari with a blessing, one that turned him human - though the essential parts of him remained, and so he was allowed to continue on carrying his big, foxen ears and his long, fluffy tail.
Even in this new yet strangely familiar form, Tighnari’s life remained simple, more or less. Faruzan was a nurturing mother, albeit a tad strict or confusing at times, but nonetheless, powerful - she was full of wisdom and teachings, as was the case of all the elder gods and goddesses of Olympus.
As he grew older, and his godly powers grew stronger, Tighnari became a rather coveted companion. Other deities would begin to seek Tighnari’s hand in marriage, either to garner more power for themselves and to boast that they had been the one to marry Faruzan’s beloved son. It was that, or monsters from the depths of Tartaros who came to try and snatch him up, to carry out revenge against Faruzan in more ways than one. In return, Faruzan only grew more protective. The limit of his daily travels became more and more restricted, and in turn, the hours he spent at home or by his mother’s side only grew.
This, in turn, left him frustrated. No matter whether he walked on four paws or two, the fox in him constantly gnawed at his thoughts, encouraging a sort of mischief that he was certain would only be allowed amongst satyrs or if he were a child of the trickster god.
Unfortunately, that was not the case.
He was the son to the wise Faruzan, who was famous for a myriad of great deeds - lackadaisical pastimes not being among them.
Whenever he did carry out such deeds, sneaking off, wandering far and wide to get some well-earned time away from his mother’s watchful gaze, the scoldings and arguments that would follow after only increased and accumulated evermore, as if they had begun nurturing a large, poisonous fruit in their gardens.
On a particular summer’s morning, Tighnari had been confronted by Faruzan after one too many missteps. Faruzan had laid her plan out for Tighnari in a calm, yet decisive voice, implying the thorough consideration that had preceded her words.
“We should nurture your powers. The more power you have, the easier it’ll be for you to protect yourself. Then, I won’t have to worry about everyone else trying to get you. Tighnari, soon, we will bring you to fulfill villagers’ requests. This will generate offerings and prayers to you, which in turn will provide you with plenty of shrines in your honor. I think this plan is quite foolproof.”
Except Tighnari didn’t want any of that. Once his power grew, that would mean he would actually have followers and worship, which made him eligible to return to Olympus - or rather, obligated to return to, out of politeness. That was even more dreadful. The few times he had followed his mother up, had already proven to him that it was hardly the place for him.
It was suffocating and always too noisy.
From a young age, Tighnari had learned that Olympus was just a gathering of arrogance. It was filled with a bunch of people inflated with their own egos, ready to brag about their achievements that were done a hundred, two hundred, even three hundred years ago. Tighnari, suffice to say, felt like a fish out of water.
No matter his status, the young godling was never one to hold his tongue, and told his mother exactly that - he had no interest in doing that, in gaining power, in accumulating worship and offerings. This, of course, led to another argument, which left them both feeling bitter. As old and wise as Faruzan was, it only made her more stubborn, sticking to her methods and traditions with a vice grip.
Tighnari, on the other hand, had been nurtured by this same woman, and, paired with his natural penchant for mischief rooted in his fox mannerisms, he had merely turned out even more strong-willed for it.
This growing pain would finally lead Tighnari to his current resolve. By now, with all the past occurrences of him running off, it has become an all-too common pastime of his - each time he ran off and got caught by his mother, he would only find new ways to outsmart her. After all, this was the only thing that could curb his restlessness. His mother’s gardens had grown too restrictive, too perfect, too regulated. They offered no space for his swelling curiosity. He sought solutions, ones that would stop his mother’s pestering, while still allowing him to do whatever he wished. He had not yet known how difficult such a task would be.
The only thing he did know was that he would not find answers within the confines of familiarity, thus, he set out on his own quest to gather the hypotheses and conclusions for the questions he had.
The fox had managed to sneak past his mother once again - at this point, outsmarting her had become as easy as breathing - and ventured southwest, past the forest full of nymphs and naiads who giggled as he passed, beckoning for the young godling to play with them. Over the years, their kinship had budded into a blossoming symbiosis. A small part of Tighnari knew that his rebelliousness has only been further fuelled on by the nymphs and naiads ever since he first made himself known to them with his idle pranks.
Today, though, was not the day for such playfulness. He told his friends as much, and kindly offered to grow flowers for them instead - ones that wouldn’t make them sneeze, but that they would be able to admire for days to come. They accepted the compromise, and Tighnari continued on his way after having filled their fields with simple pleasures.
Yes, he concluded. Already, his research had begun to reap results: Tighnari realized that truly, this was all that he wanted: simple pleasures, rather than ballads about his merciful deeds to the mortals.
As he walked further, he found himself in a flower field he had not seen before. It was here that Tighnari decided to stop his ventures and settle, knees folding beneath him to gaze at the bright white and yellow flowers that covered the field. He had not encountered such a flower field before. Considering the distance from his mother’s garden, he did not think that there would be something new for him here, and yet, he cannot bring to his memory what laid here before these flowers.
Tighnari wondered next, if it were the nymphs and naiads, who had found out what he had been looking for in all those times he had run away, and created such a field for him to find the answers he sought.
He came to the conclusion that such a field, one unrecognizable to him, could only be the work of the Fates. After all, he had run away from the gardens, determined to find a counterpoint to his mother’s suggestions, and here he was. He had only briefly considered the idea of this place being a monster’s trap, but no, he could not smell the rancid scent that the beings from Tartaros carried.
This was not a new flower to him. Tighnari was a godling who had dedicated much of his idle time to studying, reading so many scriptures, and observing all forms of life with an unbiased eye. His knowledge for plants was insatiable, and Faruzan had once joked that perhaps he was a certain goddess of wisdom’s child instead. This flower field was definitely one he had not seen before, and the narcissus, of white and yellow petals, was a flower that he had never seen before with his own eyes.
Already, this small instance of encounter with such a flower filled him with a joy that he knew came from his curiosity being sated. Here, he could study the flower for himself, to feel the petals beneath his fingertips, and take in the heady scent they gave off in person.
Suddenly, a particular variant narcissus catches his eyes, a natural path consisting of orange flowers against the white and yellow field, leading into a dark grove that he had not noticed before. Orange. These were a rarer phenotype, in the sea of common colors. These orange narcissus, pale yellow on the outside and a deep orange on the inside, clearly formed a path that was prompting him to follow the trail. To approach the grove.
Curiosity would get the better of you one day, his mother had said once.
Yet, his feet didn’t stop walking. He continued taking steps along the trail, closer and closer to the dark grove. And then, in the next moment, he was tumbling, a slip of his foot, and the ground opened up to swallow him whole - literally. He thought in that moment, I’ve done it now, I really have made my mother grieve. And then, the earth claimed him as their own.
Perhaps this would be the end of him, once and for all.
When he came to once more, he woke in complete and utter darkness. It was something that Tighnari was not used to - a child of winter but a child of the goddess of harvest still. He only knew sunshine and flowers, plants and animals and life.
For the first time in his life, he experienced something dark and primal, something his mother wouldn’t have allowed for him - fear. A feeling so ancient, instinctive, he wondered how he’d never felt this before.
So here he was, truly afraid and worse yet, truly alone. It had never been this way before. Always, there had been either his mother, or at the very least the birds and rabbits inhabiting her fields, or the nymphs of the forest, giggling in his ear. That newfound primal instinct in him told him that none of them would be able to find him here. Rational as he was, Tighnari knew better than to question that notion.
He slowly started to stand, trying to make sense of the ground beneath his feet, softly kicking any pebbles away so he wouldn't trip. In spite of his fear, Tighnari forced himself to relax. His sensitive ears could make out neither sound nor pressure, which, yes, lead to an eerie oppressiveness, but also to a surprising calm. The silence allowed Tighnari to properly gather his thoughts. He didn’t know which way was out, but just standing about won’t help him, and so, he walked. If he hit a dead end, he could just turn around, Tighnari supposed.
He walked, bit by bit, forcing himself to rely on his sense of smell and his hearing. Despite his heightened perceptiveness and his godly powers, everything smelled more or less the same, and the lack of noise began to make his ears ring, his reliable organs attempting at filling the quiet air with some static of their own. He couldn’t make flowers grow down here, nor could he summon any kind of light forth.
There was only him, the black void, and the not-quite cold earth below his padded feet.
“What are you doing here?”
The deep voice startled Tighnari. He had now been shuffling around in the darkness for a while, though for how long exactly, Tighnari wasn’t sure. Time had always been a weird concept, for him, a young godling, time was abstract, and minutes felt like seconds, but right now, he felt like he’d been down here for days.
All he knew was that he had been feeling his way around the dark cavern, aimless, with his mind in an almost gut-wrenching panic. He doesn’t let that show. He doesn’t let the ache in his bones show either, the tumble down was harsh, and if he wasn’t a blessed creature, he wasn’t quite sure if he would have survived.
Slowly, Tighnari shifted his body, angling it to face the sound of the voice - his ears flicked dutifully as his tail tucked, wary and alert. He had not even heard him approach. This was something of the shadows, surely. There was a grounding fragrance that accompanied him, of metals and earth, of the subtle silks that he wore, and… was that the scent of an animal that lingered on him? Something canine, if Tighnari had to guess, remembering the distinct scent that would cling to the occasional dog or wolf that stumbled into his mother’s gardens.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” Tighnari started politely, but his feet stayed anchored to the rocks beneath him, and he kept his ears on the other to listen for movement, “I fell down a hole while I was taking a walk. I’m just trying to find my way around.”
“You should leave.”
Tighnari wrinkled his nose at the suggestion, resulting in a sharp-tongued comment, “Thanks. That’s a great suggestion, I’ve not been walking around in the dark for an hour trying to get out of here or anything.”
Just like that, the other went silent, filling the dark cavern with the sounds of their breathing instead. Tighnari felt a faint sense of relief for it, after the overbearing stillness from before.
Sharp tongue and sharper wit, his mother had always chided him for it. Tighnari realized then, that perhaps he was about to meet his end for that. Who knows who this man was, and where he had fallen into. He was still young, and while he could easily overpower a mortal, he would not even attempt to hold his own against even the lesser deities of the surface.
However, instead of a verbal or even physical backlash, he hears one step, then another. Tighnari’s muscles briefly tense in what he now recognises is fear, but the man merely passes him by, moving in the same direction that Tighnari thought he had been aiming for, “Follow me.”
With lack of a better alternative, Tighnari did.
The journey made with the man, somehow, was made much shorter than the seemingly endless darkness Tighnari was walking in on his own. A light had appeared at the end of the tunnel, and slowly, with every step, the light became less of a distant source of brightness and more of a full-on glare against his pupils.
Tighnari winced, head turning to adjust to the sudden onslaught. No matter how short a period of time it may have been, to a creature living to the Sun’s rhythm, the brief obscurity was already enough to subdue his awareness.
As his gaze slowly readjusted to the light, his hazel eyes were met white hair and tanned skin - though the deity’s skin had less of the golden glow that the other Olympians had, and was more of an ashen color, dulled by the lack of sunlight. The longer he took him in, the more clues revealed themselves to Tighnari. An old god, it must’ve been, Tighnari had felt the power emanating from him during their walk, and its potency only grew stronger now that Tighnari could properly see him.
Suddenly, their eyes met, and Tighnari felt a shudder of awe ripple through him - those irises beheld a red deeper than the richest of rubies, the god’s eyes were captivating. The bone-deep fear he felt in the darkness had long since dissipated in the other’s presence, so it was the prolonged eye contact that pulled his eyes away. He was never the best in other’s company.
Tighnari felt like the god could see right through him, as if he were glass, and the other could judge every single decision he’d ever made. Not even standing before Nahida had ever made him feel this exposed.
The next thing that comes is the realization that he wasn’t just underground or in some monster’s lair. He was in the Underworld. The braziers sparked with golden flames warmed the halls of the Great House. The floor was polished marble, each tile embedded with gold and jewels, a symbolic representation of the riches that the Lord of the Underworld possessed. There were ghostly murmurs all around him, shadows that flitted about, scuttling to complete their next task while others trudged upon the halls, weary and cursed to an eternal afterlife. Goosebumps prickled his skin, suddenly all too aware of himself.
“Come. I’ll take you straight to the exit - or rather, entrance. Taj will bring us across the Styx and back to the surface.” Here, now, as he admired the other in the glow of the braziers, with background noise filled with the sound of idle chatter from the shades carrying out their duties, the husk of his tone made his ears flick. There was a calmness and a depth to it he enjoyed.
As he reflected on the other’s tone, the actual meaning of the deity’s words began to sink in. Straight to the exit.To the exit where Tighnari would be found by his mother. His mind runs a league a minute, mapping out the inevitable scenario this would result in - he returns to the surface, his mother finds him and scolds him, and then doesn’t let him out of her sight for days. That has been the pattern for the past few seasons, at least. Worse yet, perhaps, if she were to smell earth, metal and a canine’s presence on her, he didn’t dare to think what she would think then.
Tighnari stood there, unmoving while the other walked on, his bare feet making the softest of thumps against marble tiles. Shades and spirits quickly scurried to the edges of the hallway, parting like theater curtains to make room for the deity. Whoever he was, he surely was important.
What more did he have to lose? Tighnari would have nothing but four walls and his potted plants for the foreseeable future anyway.
“... Can I stay here?”
The man stopped in his tracks, turning to him with narrowed eyes.
“You know where you are, don’t you?”
“I do. I just…” Tighnari gestures, trying to find the words. His tail tucked between his legs, nervous as he looked for an explanation.
Surely, the Lord of the Underworld would not allow it if he knew. The stories said that he was cold and cruel, filled to the brim with bitterness from being forced to govern the dead while his brothers thrived on the surface. Of course, Tighnari was more than familiar with the old tales.
Was he naive? Stupid? Desperate? Perhaps it was all three, but he stood his ground before the stranger, “I just… If I return to the surface, my mother will have my head. She wants me to go to the villages to fulfill their wishes. To achieve godhood and get a shrine built in my name. I understand her wishes for me to grow stronger, but… I want none of those things. I just want to watch flowers bloom.”
The deity’s expression remained the same, furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, pursed lips. If Tighnari didn’t know any better, he would say that he was about to get smited where he stood - though, if he did, at least the journey wouldn’t be very far to get to the Fields of Asphodel.
He crossed his arms, gazing at Tighnari in scrutiny, assessing him under a careful eye. “And you wish to avoid her so badly that you’d die?”
“No! I…” Tighnari had to think. Would anyone actually be desperate enough to hide from their parents to the point of retreating to the Underworld? Granted, Tighnari wasn’t like other mortals and avoiding his mother meant staying away from every single inch of the surface world, so long as there were farmlands there would be harvest, and so long as there was harvest, his mother would be near. “My mother is a goddess. She is… particular, and she will always find me. I cannot hide away lest I seek refuge from my… more powerful relatives.”
“Again. You realize where you are, yes?”
“Yes - but where better to hide than amongst the dead?”
The man watched him, unblinking and unimpressed - Tighnari could imagine what was going on inside his head; the disrespect, the impudence. The godling braced himself for rejection as the other spoke, “You may stay until dawn.”
In the immediate aftermath of those words, Tighnari was stunned into silence. A rare feat, for he always had a quip or other on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be flung out. But this, he had not seen coming - not with such ease.
Taking his silence for an answer, the other continued on, unbothered: “The passage will be easier then, it may even ease your journey. Just remember - do not eat or drink anything within my realm.”
Tighnari finally gathered his wits again, and inquired, “When is dawn?”
The reply never came for the man disappeared in black smoke before Tighnari could get another word out.
As he stood there, alone in the Great House, it then dawned on him that the man he was talking to could very well be the Lord of the Underworld himself. That would explain how he moves through the darkness. He wore a helmet, Tighnari notes, it must be the one of legend that would turn him into mist and undetectable to the eye.
Within my realm.
The realization hit him like he was walking straight into a low-hanging olive branch. It would take one more moment before he could collect his thoughts, contemplating the truth. The stories made him cruel, cold, ruthless. If that truly was Lord Cyno, then, where was the brutality that the poets had waxed countless stanzas of? Where was the viciousness and the mercilessness that artists had painted onto him?
There would be no start and no finish if he had begun trying to understand such an issue. There was a pointlessness to wasting his thoughts pondering on such answers. He had only so much time to do whatever he wanted.
The black-haired man wandered through the endless hallways, eventually finding his way beyond the walls of the castle - if he could call it that. He figured it was more of an oversized mansion, if anything. Not that Tighnari would ever say that out loud and disrespect the many eyes and ears of the Chthonic deities living beneath the surface.
Thinking on it further, Tighnari realized that all this was quite silly, his attempt to hide could easily be thwarted if his mother had eyes and ears in the Underworld as well. Loyal followers of the harvest goddess that not even he knew about, it would be no surprise. After all, he could never really run away from the eyes of the gods.
Even in the Underworld, there were deities and powerful beings lurking in every corner. The goddess of the night, the lord of death, Tighnari shivered at the thought of stumbling into one of the Erinyes. The thought of it almost turned him around, back into the marbled hallways - even as a child, the idea of vengeful deities who stopped at nothing to deliver punishment made him queasy.
The only thing that kept him venturing out further was the thought that this would be his first and only chance to explore this vast land beneath on his own free will.
Tighnari lingered for too long in the Blessed Plains of Elysium. He cared not for the specters that lingered close to his presence, the infamous figures, famed heroes of the stories he’s only heard about from his mother.
Instead, he spends his time crouched over, peering at the intriguing little flowers and plants growing in the corners of the plains. He’s never seen anything even close to them on the surface. He didn’t even think plants could grow in the Land of the Dead, yet here they were.
He caressed the tiny petals, but he did not feel the familiar pulse of life that most of the living things on the surface possess. They had their own aura, one that Tighnari found to be unfamiliar. It was certainly different from what he’s used to. What he would give in that moment to have dug it out of the soil that it was held in and bring it back home with him. He wondered if it would die the moment he left the Underworld, if there were ways to preserve it, still.
“It’s almost dawn. Come.”
The voice startled him for the second time that day, or night. Tighnari wasn’t sure how the other was managing to tell what time it was, certainly not through the use of a sundial. He stands quickly, dusting the dirt off his robes, “My Lord. I did not hear you-”
“Come.”
The other left no room for chit chat, having already turned his back, and started to walk in the direction that Tighnari had come from. Tighnari fixed his tunic before he walked quickly, easily catching up to the other’s pace.
He recognized the way the other’s weight shifted now, how each step was taken. There was a certainty to it - though, Tighnari had to wonder how the other walked around with barely any protection. Feet that were bare to the gravel and sharp stones, to the heated paths of Asphodel, with not even the simplest of sandals to protect them. Surely, it was some sort of divine power at work.
They walked in relative silence, their pace only affected by Tighnari who occasionally slowed to admire some small growth in the corner of the path on their slow trek back to the House.
After the first few times, the deity would begin to stop as well, allowing for Tighnari to pause and admire the growths fully.
“Do you like them?” He asked, after a long moment spent with Tighnari gazing at the protruding stigmas of a deep violet flower.
Tighnari glanced up, blinking sheepishly at the other. As much as he hated keeping the Lord of the Underworld waiting, he couldn’t help the gnawing curiosity at the sight of such mysterious little growths deep under the surface. He replied, unable to keep the shyness from his tone, “Well, yes. I am quite fond of all plants.”
“I see. Let’s not waste too much time. Keep up. It’ll be good for you to return before the sun is in the sky.”
Tighnari nodded, and this time, he followed behind the white-haired man obediently. Some specters would stop and stare at them as they passed by, and Tighnari wondered if they knew he wasn’t dead like them. The prospect made him uncomfortable. It was as if they were scrutinizing him, willing him to stay with them for all eternity.
He walked closer to the Lord of the Underworld after that.
Their journey took them to the riverbank, where the other slowly came to a halt. “We will wait. I’ve already instructed Taj to meet us here.”
Again, Tighnari would give into his curiosity as his eyes remained fixated on the water. What a curious color. It looked almost iridescent, even in the semi-darkness of the Underworld. In it, he swears he could hear whispers, seducing him deeper - won’t you come closer? Won’t you step inside and see what grows in our waters?
Before he could take another step forward, he felt a hand grab at his arm, roughly pulling him back. Tighnari let out a small gasp as the white-haired deity forced himself into his vision, his voice slow, but heavy with warning, “The Styx is tempting you. Any further and you’ll die.”
Right.
His eyes refocused onto the figure before him, blinking slowly as he recollected himself. He was almost tempted. And yet, Lord Cyno had once again prevented harm from befalling him. Curiously enough, he had been saved time and time again by the man before him, despite the legends of him being cold and cruel, sadistic even. Tighnari breathed out, and whispered a soft ‘Thank you’.
He didn’t know what else he could say.
Right on time, a boat creaks up to the shore, resting its bow against the shoreline. Tighnari is helped onto the boat by the aid of his savior, who patiently offers him a hand to get onto the boat, and then once again, helping him get comfortable once they’re both on the small rowboat. He wondered how many spirits had sat here after offering Taj their drachmae. He wondered next how many spirits lingered at the shore, no way to pass the Styx, no way to an afterlife.
The thought saddened him.
The frown on his face must’ve been obvious, as the Chthonic deity peered into him, as if assessing his life’s worth before his eyes. Tighnari shifts in his seat. Instead, red eyes cast itself across the murky waters, where ghastly waves seemed to grasp at the wood of the boat, trying to reach for the life atop it. He speaks slowly, “It is dangerous here. There is no good here for a young god like yourself.”
“I didn’t come here for good or bad. I told you. I was just looking for someplace to hide for a while… beyond my mother’s reach.”
“Hm. Yes. Your mother. She is powerful, I take it. You are full of life - your very presence stirs the spirits in this realm. It is quite ironic that the Fates have led you here at all. For what purpose, I wonder…”
He doesn’t know what to say to that.
The journey across the river was slow, and their boatman did not speak. Tighnari gazed at him, and the forlorn tone of his voice. Somehow, Tighnari couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was, but the term ‘loneliness’ would linger in his mind. The image of loneliness, not quite, but almost there.
When the boat docked on the other side, the other got off first. He was careful, helping Tighnari off the boat. His eyes remained cold, but the warmth of his hand was distinct. It’s strange, the godling pondered, that a being so scary, so feared across the surface, was as gentle and comforting as this.
Was it a lie, then? A trick at play? He realized then, that this was what his mother meant. Not everything was as it seemed, that the stories always had two sides of a coin. Though, this time, he was left wondering if it was Cyno who was concealing his true self, or if it was the rest of the world that had turned their back on the Underworld’s ruler.
“I will walk you to the door. Beyond, is the surface. You will find your way back if you keep walking.” He says simply, and that’s all Tighnari gets before the other drops his hand and turns on his heel, making his way down the seemingly endless cavern.
Tighnari followed closely as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, smelling sweetness in the undertones of the air. When he looked around, finally having some semblance of perception in the semi-darkness, he noticed the soft vegetation and dull-coloured petals growing at the edges of their path. His steps fell to a complete stop as he crouched by a plant, intrigued by its little presence.
Compared to the others he had seen below, this one pulsated with an energy that he was more familiar with. It pulsed with a familiar essence of life that he could recognize from above ground.
Life. Even in the Underworld, there was life.
He caressed the tiny sepals beneath the small petals, intrigued. A flower was still a flower, no matter whether it was above or below. They grew from the soil beneath, roots reaching beneath the ground, yearning to survive. Even though the ones he met deeper in Lord Cyno’s realm barely had any recognizable life to them, they were undoubtedly flowers.
Tighnari pays no mind as footsteps approach him once more, after the deity had realized that his guest was, yet again, no longer following behind him.
“These flowers that grow down here do not share their life with those above.”
“What do you mean, my Lord?”
“Things that grow in the Underworld will never be able to blossom on the Surface. It makes sense that you are intrigued.”
Tighnari blinks, slowly turning his head up to face the man once more. His ear twitched curiously, as his tail swishes here and there, brushing against the dirt path beneath them, “My Lord, forgive me, but I am afraid that you are mistaken.”
“Excuse me?”
He gestures to the plant by his feet, “This is a narcissus. Albeit the colors are less striking than the ones we see on land, but this is undoubtedly the very same flower, from the shape of its flower to the pattern on its leaves. They’re very unique, recognizable for their central corona here. I am certain I was looking at this very same flower up on the surface, right before I fell into the hole that brought me here.”
Tighnari managed to stop himself before he went on an all-out rant about the flower itself, he could talk all about its medicinal uses, and then even more about how it was an important pollinator in early spring - birds and bees and all that. He doesn’t think his company needed or even wanted to know about the birds and the bees, literally.
Instead, when he lifted his eyes to meet those striking ruby orbs, he’s met with anticipation. The previously dull eyes twinkled with something that wasn’t there before. Tighnari gazed at the other, wondering if he were imagining it.
“Keep going. Tell me more.”
Tighnari brightened at the other’s prompting, but he doesn’t continue with his rambling quite yet. “My Lord, I wouldn’t wish to bore you with it. I’m sure they’re not very interesting to learn about either.”
“If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t ask for you to tell me more.”
Tighnari hummed, considering his words carefully. Again, this was no trick. What trickery was there to be gained from Tighnari telling him more about a simple narcissus flower? So, he does. He spoke of their preferred conditions of growth, their anatomy. He continued on after with the color variants and hybrids.
When he ran out of things that came to mind, Cyno picked it up, asking questions here and there, about similar flowers, about the planting process, about the growth. Tighnari was more than happy to divulge all about them. His ears perked up as his tail wagged - and soon enough, Cyno’s eyes followed, gazing at the pointed sensory organs atop his head, and the fluffy appendage swishing left and right in the corner of his eyes.
He gazed at them for a second, if only for long enough to take them in, before his eyes found their way back to Tighnari’s. And somehow, that in itself provided a sense of comfort for Tighnari. In the mortal realm, they were afraid by the half-animal parts of Tighnari - after all, this was the sign of him being far different from them. In the Olympic realms, on the other hand, the gods cooed and fawned over the fluffy ears and tail, treating him more like a spectacle than one of them.
Tighnari was comforted by the fact that the Chthonic deity didn’t seem interested by the ears on his head. His heart had been soothed in a way he had not learned was possible up until this moment.
“You stopped talking all of a sudden.” Cyno notes.
“Ah! I apologize, my lord, what did you ask again?”
“It’s alright. I’ve learned my fair share about the flower.” He states, waving a hand as he stepped back, “Come, I think you’ve spent enough time here. Let’s return you to the surface before your mother begins to get cranky.”
It was for a split second that Tighnari thought that he had offended the old deity, before he thought again - no, he had a point, if he was missing for any longer his mother would surely go insane. Tighnari straightened, dusting his tunic gently. “Yes, my lord. You’re right. I have extended my stay for long enough.”
Cyno didn’t say anything to that, and only turned, continuing to walk along the dirt path towards the light at the end of the tunnel. Walking behind him, Tighnari wondered, for a moment, if this was the solution he had been seeking all along.
In the Underworld, he couldn’t be harmed by those who wanted him for themselves on the surface. His stomach twisted in his gut, not even a second after the thought formed - he would not rely on the Lord of the Underworld for help in a problem that was hardly his own to be bothered by.
When they approached the gate, Cyno came to a final stop, stepping to the side to gesture for Tighnari to keep walking, “Here is the gate. You should leave now, quickly.”
The fox was never good at following instructions either. He fidgeted about in the space where he stood, trying to formulate words to thank the other. He didn’t really know where to begin.
Cyno studied him. Clearly, the god would be wondering what in Tartaros this godling was doing, still lingering in his realm. Tighnari finally opened his mouth, but was interrupted by his company, “You seem nervous. You need not worry. At the very least, I know the entrance will lead you out into a safe area. I assume your mother will come for you very soon after.”
“Thank you, my Lord, but that’s not what I was worried about.”
“Then… perhaps you would prefer a joke?”
“What?”
“When I first received the Underworld as my ruling domain, the other gods would tell me, ‘Cheer up, Cyno. It’s better than an underground hole filled to the brim with water.’”
Tighnari stared at him quizzically. His ears had even lowered from their state of alertness to ponder what the other meant.
Cyno continued, straight faced as ever. “I know they meant well.”
It pulled a soft chuckle out of Tighnari - as surprising and unprompted as it was, it felt a little silly. Tighnari felt the tension leave his body, if only marginally. When their eyes met once more, Cyno’s own eyes were glittering - his face remained as neutral and serious as ever, but his eyes spoke more than the deity could hope to convey.
Tighnari felt in his heart that he would miss that expressiveness on the surface.
“Thank you. That was a bad joke, but I appreciated it.”
“Couldn’t have been that bad if it made you laugh.” Cyno countered.
Tighnari shook his head, still reeling from the absurdity of their situation. A smile lingered on his lips as he gave the other one last look, “I suppose so.”
With that in mind, he continued his walk to the exit, past the crumbling columns meant to signify the Gates to the Underworld, a place that no one else had managed to escape from, and onward to the warm sunlight of the Surface.