09.5 Fic: Mirage Reflection 1

The hollow-eyed man she met all those months ago in Primus would hardly recognize the one walking beside her, Mirage thinks to herself, as she darts a quick glance over at Cypher. Nimbus floats above the path in lazy circles and the rhythmic crunch of footfalls on soil lulls her into a meditative, pensive mood. She considers:   1. He’s a lot thinner now than he used to be.   He’s always looked like a string bean of a person, but life on the road has certainly taken its toll. Much of the shock she felt at seeing him lying in Cri’s hammock was due not only to the unexpected nature of his presence, but at his haggard appearance - warm brown skin replaced with a pale sallowness, dark, dull eyes that took up far too much of his face. From certain angles, his skin seemed to simply hang off his frame like clothes on a hanger, but it’s the haunted expression he wears when his mind is elsewhere that concerns her the most, like he’s seeing something far, far away - or very deep within (she’s too afraid to ask).   And now he apparently doesn’t need to sleep? She assumed he was exaggerating when he mentioned it in Asmira’s presence, but he’s always awake when she falls asleep and up long before she is every morning. If he sleeps at all (she doesn’t think he does, Nimbus can attest to his insomnia), it’s not like any form of sleep she’s ever seen.   How long until his frail human form gives out? Mirage shudders to think of it, of how far he’ll go before it becomes too much.   2. He’s definitely more powerful, but it’s subtle.   The things she’s seen him do have always been unsettling, to some extent - to her, the sanctity of a person’s inner world is obvious. If you aren’t allowed control over your own thoughts, are you technically even still you? Seeing the bulette ignore all sense of self preservation at Cypher’s command, watching the gaze of a suspicious guard cloud over with magic - those acts were never comfortable to witness, but they come easier to him now. He used to take a second to catch his breath after a particularly complex spell. Concentrating, focusing on more than one target at a time brought a furrow to his brow and required all of his attention.   Now, he fixes his gaze on one target while three others clutch their heads in pain, falling to their knees. Easy pickings, for a rogue hiding in the shadows. He doesn’t have to stop to take a breath anymore before he lines up his next shot.   3. He laughs sometimes.   She remembers how rough those first few weeks were - little to no eye contact, single-word answers, constantly vanishing. She was convinced he couldn’t stand any of them until one afternoon, he caught her pickpocketing a member of the local nobility in the middle of the town square (only to plant the purse on a figure in the crowd, loudly decrying council aid for Ignean refugees).   Her breath had caught as their eyes met, but instead of stopping her, he gave her a smirk, a subtle wink, and mimed buttoning his lips shut.   Her face flushed at the memory.   An accomplice, she’d crowed to herself. Excellent.   Now, the sight of him playing chess with Ta’lok, hugging Cri, joking with Saeldor - giving her a smile so real it reaches his eyes - is normal. He still has periods where he wanders off, dodges questions, where his demeanor slips into something much darker, but in sunnier moments, when he throws his head back and laughs, Mirage can’t help the joy she feels at his joy.   Regardless of how much he’s changed, however, there are still so many things she doesn’t understand about him (which is what led her to draw some VERY incorrect conclusions recently, resulting in some VERY unfortunate circumstances involving a knife and rope). Drawing her weapon on Cypher felt terrible, and thinking about it now still makes her want to cry, but something is gnawing at her - why is Cypher here?   As much as he’s changed over the course of their acquaintance, so has she. She remembers the girl she was, bored, curious, hungry for something as she stood on the docks that afternoon and (mostly) listened to Ta’lok’s spiel.   Stealing his wallet to prove herself had been hilarious, and second nature - but she can admit to herself that however this journey began, it stopped being ‘just a lark’ months ago.   Talking her way into places, impressing the others with how quietly she moves, using her wealth and status for the group’s benefit - it’s been fun. More than that, far from stifling her personal creativity as she’d feared, the experience of having a direction and a purpose has been oddly fulfilling.   Is the same true for Cypher? He won’t say. They’re alike in so many other ways, maybe he feels this strange sense of belonging, too.   Or maybe not.   As she watches him trip over a tree root, hiding her smile, she thinks that regardless of his motives, she’s going to have to decide to trust him fully, even without knowing all the details (though she’s determined to get those at some point). Or not at all. Because this conditional half-trust between them isn’t very productive. It takes guts to trust someone, Mirage knows, and Lydia Noor didn’t raise a coward.   Aside from whatever ghosts haunt him, he is important to her, to all of them. She’s glad to have him by her side (and she will slit the throat of whatever is hurting him, or hold it down while he does the honors - she’s not picky).   Come to think of it, she has a sneaking suspicion that consciously choosing to trust Cypher might be one of the craziest, most wild things she’s ever attempted (including that one time she flipped off a King, but that’s neither here nor there).   Good, she thinks to herself. Being bored is the literal worst.