11.2 Fic: Mirage Reflection 2
The satisfaction of handily beating Cypher in a footrace (no contest, really) isn’t enough to quell the burn of something electric still sizzling beneath her skin, like a wind howling to escape.
You’re amazing, he’d said.
She hears his approach as he moves to stand beside her, breathing heavily, surveying the clearing where they’d made camp. The sight of her friends - Cri, Saeldor, and Ta’lok - healthy, whole, safe, is enough to banish the weight in her chest, which had only grown heavier the closer they’d got to the tower.
Mirage catches Cypher’s glance out of the corner of her eye. For the briefest of moments, he meets her gaze - open, curious, honest. Then he gives her a tired smile and the slightest nod of his head before allowing his limp hair to fall over the planes of his face. Slowly, he wanders over to a small copse of trees, just out of sight.
Whether he’s communing with some unknown entity, Mirage thinks to herself, or taking a moment to collect himself, she doesn’t care. He’s more than earned a bit of privacy.
She soaks in the sight of Cri chatting with Toby, who whinnies happily. Of Saeldor setting up the tents, of Ta’lok collecting firewood.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.
Her throat tightens as a river of tears threatens to fall. Blinking them away, she steps forward to offer a hand.
“Mirage. Good to see you.” Saeldor grins at her as he ruffles her hair affectionately, waving off her offer of help. “I’ll take care of this. I think you’ve earned a break, hero.”
Defeated, she turns to Cri.
“Marwa. What would we ever do without you? You had us so worried.” The incredulity she feels at Cri’s concern despite recently being imprisoned herself must show on Mirage’s face, as does the trembling in her hands.
Cri’s large, golden eyes have always seen more than most.
Reaching up to clasp Mirage’s fingers in hers, Cri murmurs, “We missed you.” The hug she crouches down to give Cri in return is gentle, mindful of aching bones and fresh wounds, but it lasts. Somehow, she still smells like the sun, Mirage smiles as she allows the hug to linger.
Toby knocks his head into her shoulder without warning, almost throwing her off-balance. Thankfully, he doesn’t look too displeased when she explains that she’s fresh out of candy. He nuzzles her cheek anyway, sending her into a fit of giggles.
Eventually, she moves to stand beside Talok, whose eyes show the strain of hours spent awake, unfocused. It’s clear he’s trying to stay alert, to soldier on as he always does, but this is his second attempt to get a fire started and his sigh of frustration is loud enough to rattle her bones.
“Need a hand, Captain?” She kneels beside him, taking the lit match from his grip and holding it to the pile of kindling he’s surrounded with large stones.
“Mirage. Glad you made it.” He takes in her face, giving her a cursory once-over. “You injured?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m okay. Are you okay?”
“M’fine.” She lets his statement stand, watching the flames begin to consume the wood pile. “Cypher, he’s…?”
“Taking a minute, I think.” Mirage responds before he can finish the question.
Ta’lok lets out a huff, placing more wood on the fire until it hisses and pops merrily. Crackling flames lull them into a companionable silence, interrupted only by chirping birds and the hum of insects. Dappled sunlight dancing on the ground near their feet punctuates a moment of uncomplicated beauty; a balm to their bruised hearts and bodies.
Strange to think, Mirage notes, that the world was so loud only a few minutes ago.
“Right. Well. Don’t know what kept you, but we’re damn glad you showed up when you did.” Nodding curtly, he stands, brushes his hands on his trousers before giving her a hearty pat on the back, and makes his way over to Saeldor, who looks grateful at his approach.
She’s distracted from the low rumbling of their voices by a soft breeze that ruffles the hair tucked behind her ear.
Nimbus, Mirage’s heart leaps. I’m so glad you’re safe.
In response, he sends her the feeling of warm summer rain, of sunshine on white sand. Me too.
Then, a series of images dart across her thoughts, so fast she almost doesn’t recognize what she’s seeing. She catches a glimpse of a woman with indigo skin and fiery hair floating above a tower, breathing fog through an open window until it fills the chamber. The same woman, her, ripping the air asunder, flinging the creature out onto the lawn despite its attempts to remain inside.
Her hands raised to the sky, eyes lightning-white, singing a song laden with thunder and wind.
Her mother’s lullaby.
Is that…me?
Nimbus sends her a feeling of assent, of pride. Of kinship.
Unthinking, she looks down at her hands. They look the same as always, with a few more added scars as proof of her recent adventures.
She scoffs in disbelief.
Nimbus whistles, circling her head briefly before fluttering off.
Well shit, she looks back down at her hands. Maybe I am a little bit amazing…