Chapter Text
Varka returned to Nod-Krai soon after the sun had fully risen. There was no reason for him to continue lingering on the cemetery island. Not to mention that he had not let anyone know that he was leaving for the night, and were he to return much later, someone would be sent to find him. Likely Albedo.
When he had left, Kyryll had been cleaning a grave so ancient that its face was completely smooth. Parts of it were crumbling, and it had been slightly tilted by the stubborn roots of a stray frostlamp flower. There were many graves in a similar condition, but it was obvious that the wear was only from the elements. They were all clean. with flowers growing in neat clusters nearby, and the grass trimmed around their edges.
Varka had offered assistance with the cleaning in exchange for the hospitality, but Kyryll had rejected the offer. He said he enjoyed the task and would not ask someone like Varka to help him with his duties. Unsure how to proceed after his offer was rejected, he quickly made to leave. The strange lightkeeper had assured him that he had no need for the boat now that he was in better physical condition, and urged him to take it. Varka hadn't argued, as he wasn't keen on swimming all the way back.
The knights' camp was bustling when Varka returned, with a few knights shooting him relieved looks as he headed for his office. Before he had gotten halfway across camp, though, he was approached and told that both the medic and Albedo had been seeking him since sunrise.
He went to speak to the medics first, assuring them numerous times that their missing patient had not just disappeared into the ether. He explained briefly that the blue-haired man, who had been introduced to them as Flins, had woken up shortly after he himself had regained consciousness, and he had quickly left. Varka accompanying him to his home to make sure that he made it safely.
He was scolded for letting a patient who may have still been in critical condition leave the medical tent, nonetheless, leaving camp altogether. He accepted the criticism without complaint. Though he wouldn't normally have let such a thing happen, he had no knowledge of what Kyryll was at the time, and wasn't keen on going against the man's wishes when he had no reason to.
After escaping the ire of the healer, Varka headed to find Albedo, who was having a late breakfast with the Traveler and Nefer. Knowing Albedo, it was likely lunch for him, but Varka had long stopped questioning how many hours the man had in his day.
After joining the party for the meal, ignoring the unhappy look that Albedo shot him, he explained that their lightkeeper comrade, whom they all referred to as Flins, was recovering quickly and had returned to his home island to rest. The news seemed to bring great relief to both the Traveler and Nefer, whose shoulders had sagged uncharacteristically when Varka confirmed that Kyryll was safe.
"He almost died protecting me." Nefer had said, glaring down at her bowl, "I would've felt guilty forever if he had actually died." She grumbled.
"We all knew the risks going into the fight." Traveler responded, speaking around a full mouth. "It wouldn't have been your fault."
"Traveler is right," Albedo agreed, "Everyone who fights the abyss is aware of the danger."
"I know." Nefer snapped back, shoving her spoon into her bowl aggressively. "But I saw him take that spear. It was three feet from my face. If I had just moved, he wouldn't have had to-"
"It was our job to protect you and Columbina, even at the risk of our own lives. Without you two, we wouldn't have been able to banish him." Traveler interrupted, and Nefer shot him a glare.
"I know that too. It's fine." She said, "As long as he's fine now." She added quietly at the end, and the Traveler let out a laugh.
"Are you close?" Varka asked, and Nefer shot him a disgusted look.
"No." She responded, taking a bite of her food and glaring around the table.
"How long have you all been friends?" Varka asked, directing the question towards the Traveler. The blond smiled at the question.
"I haven't been in Nod-Krai for long, but he was one of the first people I met here." Traveler said, "He has helped Paimon and me out a lot since we got here." He continued, and Varka couldn't help but be curious. Mysteries were everywhere when you work as a knight, but the lightkeeper was especially intriguing. He leaned forward, smiling at the Traveler across the table.
"You must trust him if he was part of the party taken to fight the Rächer of Solarni." He said, and the Traveler smiled back, nodding his head.
"He knows more about the wild hunt than anyone else I've met here, and he can be a little strange sometimes, but he is reliable. We wouldn't have beaten Rerir without him." Traveler said, gesturing to Nefer, "If he hadn't drawn Rerir's attention for long enough while Nefer and Columbina were preparing, or while I was helping Lauma recover, our entire plan would have failed."
"He can also purge abyss energy using his vision," Nefer said, voice bitter. "He only got so injured because he was protecting us." She said, and the Traveler nudged her softly.
"Anyone worth their salt wouldn't hold something like that against you," Varka said, a little amused by the way that Nefer was acting. It was quite out of character for her, which made it obvious that there was more to the issue than she was letting on.
"I'm not worried about that." She snapped at him, her green eyes narrowing in a glare. "He won't even think twice about almost dying saving someone's life. I just don't like feeling indebted to people." The Traveler laughed at that, and Nefer let out a long sigh.
"Would he try to take advantage of such a debt?" Varka asked, and Nefer let out a rather undignified snort, while the Traveler's laughter increased slightly.
"No. Which is exactly the issue. I'm going to feel in debt to him for the rest of my life." Nefer said, voice thick with exasperation.
"You could always just gift him a jewel or rare coin." Traveler commented, and Nefer sighed.
"Rare coin?" Varka asked, the image of the lightkeeper spending hours polishing ancient coins somehow easy to envision.
"Mhm, bones too." Traveler said. "He enjoys collecting things like that. I saw him buying an old watch once, too."
"I can't just buy some trinket to pay off a life debt," Nefer said, waving her hand dismissively in the Traveler's face.
"Sir Varka, there is much to be done today." Albedo cut in, ignoring the Traveler as he argued with Nefer about an appropriate gift for Kyryll. "You still have paperwork left from a few days ago, and the documents that were needed during the time you were asleep."
Varka ran a hand over his face with a groan, but didn't argue.
=_=
The rest of the week was abnormally busy. On top of the usual work, there was all the work regarding the aftermath of Rerir's defeat. Varka had been contacted by the Ratniki's leader, a young man who had recently taken over, to let him know that wild hunt activity was increasing. This meant that on top of bolstering each patrol that Varka sent out, there would be more run-ins with the lightkeepers. Which meant more paperwork.
Kyryll was often seen by the patrols, being mentioned in almost every night patrol report that Varka had to read and sign off on. He always seemed to be in the aftermath of clearing away abyssal corruption or lending a hand when knights found themselves in precarious situations with an outbreak. He appeared wherever there was trouble and then disappeared into the night.
Because of the frequency of Kyryll's appearances, Varka found himself wondering about him often. A being of a mythical, mostly extinct race, who lived by himself in a cemetery, enjoyed collecting shiny objects, and was spoken of highly by his comrades. From what his knights had said, the lightkeeper made them feel incredibly nervous for reasons they couldn't explain. The man as a whole was an intriguing mystery.
When Varka finally escaped paperwork one night, he fled into the forest with his claymores, hoping to run into some trouble. He was stiff and antsy because of how much he had been sitting behind his desk recently, and he knew that a good fight would lift his spirits and loosen his muscles. Being out of the camp was already making his gloom fade.
Much to his pleasure, it didn't take long for him to run into a small wild hunt outbreak. There was no obelisk, just a small purple crack in the earth that a few zombies had crawled from. Nothing that would be a challenge for him, but it could still become an issue if the crack was left to its own devices and spread into a larger outbreak. Not that he was ever considering moving on to find something more fun. He could always finish this quickly, note the location, and then move on to find something more fun after all.
It was lucky he had shown up when he did, because not long after engaging the zombies in combat, the crack lengthened and more crawled out. Though they hadn't added much challenge, Varka was still glad he was fighting them instead of leaving one of his patrols to do so. He had a few soldiers who had returned from patrol injured recently, and Varka had felt as if he weren't doing his job as their Grand Master properly.
He was supposed to be the one protecting them. The one out on the front lines. Not the one stuck behind a desk reading repetitive documents, signing papers, and making expense reports. When he had become the Grand Master, it had been to lead soldiers. Not sit at a desk.
It had only been a few minutes since he had begun fighting when a zombie was cut down by a blade other than his own. Midnight blue flashed in his peripheral vision, but he didn't get a good look at his new ally until the remaining few zombies had been cut down. Not that it took him very long to recognize the blue-haired Fae.
"I had not expected to meet you out on patrol, Grand Master Varka," Kyryll said, flicking his spear to the side in a final slice to the last zombie. It had already fallen, but with the last hit, its body crumbled into a puff of ash. "It is a pleasure to see you again." The Fae added, his spear coming to rest at his side. His lantern was burning with indigo flames in his other hand.
"I've been stuck at a desk for an eternity. Had to get out somehow." Varka replied easily, watching as Kyryll stepped closer to the slowly receding fissure in the ground.
"Is there much paperwork associated with your title?" Kyryll asked, holding his lantern out over the fissure. It glowed brightly for a few moments, negating the violet glow of the abyss, and the crevice began sealing rapidly.
"Unfortunately," Varka confirmed, coming over to stand closer to the lightkeeper. Watching the abyss outbreak be forcibly closed was a bit odd. He thought he could hear screams and groans coming from inside the fissure, as if it were protesting being sealed once more. "I've never been able to sit still for long."
"It seems we have something in common then." Kyryll responded, "I am not partial to paperwork myself."
Varka grinned at the new information. He felt as if he had been handed a puzzle piece that he had been missing. Another aspect that only added to the mystery of the other man.
"Do you have to write reports as a Ratniki?" Varka asked, the last of the abyss being sealed off, leaving only the pale light of Kyryll's lantern to illuminate the surrounding area.
"We provide patrol reports and maps of outbreak sites," Kyryll said, his pale gold eyes landing on Varka's face. "Master Illuga is still transitioning into leadership, however, so I am currently tasked with some of his documents as well." He added, and Varka laughed.
"My knights report seeing you around a lot. Do you write a report every time you come out here?" Varka asked, and a small smile ghosted on Kyryll's face.
"I patrol every night. As a Ratniki, I am obligated to write a report every time I spend my night on patrol." He said, his voice carefully even. Varka grinned; he knew what that meant.
"But you don't, do you?" He asked, and Kyryll glanced away for a moment.
"Do you write a report on every excursion outside of the knights' keep?" Kyryll asked in return, and a laugh bubbled from Varka's chest.
"Of course not." He said while chuckling, and Kyryll offered a small smile in return.
"I should continue on my route," Kyryll said after giving Varka a moment to stop laughing. "Have a rejuvenating outing, Grand Master." His voice was smooth as he talked, dipping his head in a pseudo-bow.
Varka could only smile as he watched the Fae disappear into the dark woods.
=_=
It was only a few days before Varka saw Kyryll again. This time, he was in Nasha Town with a few of his knights, picking up a shipment of dandelion wine that Diluc had finally agreed to send to Nod-Krai. He and his knights were all in high spirits, excited to indulge in the taste of their homeland for the first time in so long. And maybe that was why, when Varka spotted Kyryll's long midnight blue hair, he approached the man with no hesitation.
"Fancy seeing you here," Varka said, lifting his hand in a greeting as he approached Kyryll and the shop he was currently browsing.
Kyryll's golden eyes settled on him for a moment, and Varka could've sworn he saw the Fae smile before looking back towards the stall's merchandise. It seemed to be maintenance equipment for a variety of household objects. Kyryll was specifically investigating two different lamp polishing kits. He looked back up at Varka quickly, though, any traces of a smile gone.
"Grand Master Varka," He greeted, dipping his head politely. "What brings you to Nasha town on such a beautiful day?" He said, and Varka glanced at the sky briefly. It was light blue and devoid of any clouds, though it was still rather cold.
"It's a bit cold for my taste." Varka laughed, inspecting Kyryll for a moment. "I brought some knights into town on a supply run. Also, as a little treat for them. With all of the outbreaks recently, they've earned some time off."
"You are very kind to your soldiers," Kyryll commented, his eyes scanning Varka for a moment before returning to the stall once again. Varka could only chuckle.
"What kind of Grand Master would I be if I wasn't?" He asked, and now there was a smile on Kyryll's face. Small enough to be easy to miss, but still there.
"A normal one." The Fae responded smoothly, finally deciding on the smaller of the two cleaning kits and handing the stall owner a few coins. The salesman looked rather uncomfortable as Kyryll thanked him, and Varka didn't miss the sigh of relief the man let out as Kyryll turned to walk away.
Varka stayed silent for a moment, following Kyryll a few dozen steps away from the stall.
"He was scared of you?" Varka finally asked, and Kyryll looked up at him, staying quiet for a moment too long.
"Yes. An instinctual fear. It is quite normal." He said, and Varka couldn't stop the crease that formed between his eyebrows.
"So people are usually just scared of you for no reason?" Varka asked, and Kyryll let out a soft sound which might have been a laugh.
"I assure you, it is normal. You are quite the irregular specimen." He responded easily, and Varka laughed despite himself.
"Is it because you're a-"
"Yes. I would appreciate your discretion with that matter." Kyryll interrupted quickly as they moved past a large crowd of people watching a street performer. "I apologize for interrupting." He added, and Varka shook his head.
"I don't mind. My lips are sealed." He said, and Kyryll's face returned to its careful neutrality. "If it's a secret, though, why did you tell me so easily?" He asked, and he pretended not to notice the way that Kyryll's steps faltered for half a second.
"I am not sure myself," Kyryll responded after a moment, his tone wavering from its usual silkiness. "You do not strike me as someone who would seek the ensured destruction of my race." He added softly, and Varka felt his eyebrows rise.
"Are there people who would?" Varka asked, and Kyryll glanced at him briefly.
"Yes." He responded, and Varka dropped the subject. He needed to return to his knights and make sure none of them had gone missing so they could return to camp before sunset. But his feet didn't quite want to stop walking at Kyryll's pace.
"We just got in a good shipment of dandelion wine. It's the best alcohol from my homeland." Varka paused, and Kyryll stopped with him. "You should come by and have some." He continued, and Kyryll smiled at him the slightest bit, his gold eyes shining in the sunlight.
"That is a very kind invitation, Grand Master Varka. I do not wish to impose." He said, and Varka rolled his eyes.
"Just say you will," Varka said, and Kyryll dipped his head slightly, his smile growing a fraction of an inch.
"I will come and share a drink with you the next time I am nearby." Kyryll acquiesced, and Varka grinned.
"I'll save the best bottle for you." He said, winking at the amused lightkeeper.
=_=
"Grand Master?" A voice came from the door of Varka's tent. It was a few hours after dinner, and he had finished a mountain of paperwork not even thirty minutes ago. He sighed, hoping that there wasn't some new issue to attend to.
"You may speak." He said, tugging on a shirt and grabbing his overcoat.
"A suspicious person is asking to see you at the front gate." The knight said, and Varka sighed again.
"Did they say why?" He asked, pulling on his armor and coat. He fetched his claymores from their stands as well, then made his way to the entrance of the tent.
"Not really, they really do seem suspicious. He claimed to be a Ratniki, but he doesn't dress like any lightkeeper I've seen." The knight said, and Varka had to stifle a sudden laugh, all the annoyance he had felt melting away.
"Blue hair, gold eyes?" Varka asked as he opened the tent flap and stooped to pass through. The knight on the other side stood at attention quickly and nodded.
"Yes, sir." He confirmed, and Varka smiled.
"He is a Ratniki, and also a good friend of mine," Varka said, and the knight stiffened a bit more. "Thank you for coming to get me. You are dismissed." He smiled at the knight, who saluted and then hurried off in the wrong direction.
Though Kyryll had said that he would come and indulge Varka by sharing a bottle of wine, Varka hadn't truly expected him actually to show up unprompted like this. It had been a little over a week since they had run into each other in Nasha Town, and Varka was happy at the prospect of sitting down and sharing a bottle with a friend. It wasn't something he got to do very often anymore.
When Varka approached the entrance to the keep, four knights were standing there instead of the usual two. They were all talking quietly and sending suspicious looks towards Kyryll, who was standing politely a few steps outside of the camp. His hands were clasped behind his back, and his lantern was flickering softly where it was attached to his waist. When he noticed Varka approaching, he inclined his head slightly, and Varka couldn't help but grin.
It was a funny thought to imagine Kyryll approaching the knights on guard, late at night, as an unknown person, and immediately requesting to meet with their Grand Master. He had to have realized that it was a suspicious request, but chose to do so anyway. Had Kyryll argued with the guards before they sent someone to fetch him?
"Grand Master!" One of the knights finally saw him approaching and jogged over. "Have you come to deal with the suspicious person?" He asked, and Varka laughed.
"Yes, thank you for sending someone to fetch me." He replied, walking over to the other three knights and slapping one of them on the back. "You guys handled this well. If he had actually been a suspicious person, it was good thinking not to let him into the camp."
"Is he not a suspicious person?" One of them asked, and Varka laughed again.
"No, he's a Ratniki and a good friend of mine." He explained, and the face of the knights visibly relaxed. "Next time he comes by, just send him to me." He added, and a few of the knights nodded, their eyes darting back to Kyryll, who hadn't moved.
"He seems weird." One of the knights blurted out and was immediately smacked in the back of the head by a second knight.
"Don't say that about the Grand Master's friend!" She hissed, and the one who had spoken out rubbed his head sheepishly. Varka only grinned, though, patting the embarrassed soldier's shoulder.
"No offense taken." He said, glancing over at Kyryll, who was staring back at him, gold eyes muted in the darkness. "You four get back to your posts. No slacking off now." He added before striding away towards the lightkeeper.
Kyryll gave him an obvious once-over before dipping his head again in greetings. The Fae was smiling when he returned to his usual posture.
"Grand Master Varka." He said, his voice low and soft.
"What brings you all the way out here so late at night?" Varka asked instead of returning the greeting. He contemplated asking the lightkeeper to drop the formal title, but he hesitated to do so as Kyryll addressed everyone in the same overly polite manner.
"I remembered your invitation and thought that you might enjoy a hunt before indulging in fine wine," Kyryll responded easily, and Varka felt something in his chest loosen. The smile that rose to his face was wide, and he was suddenly all the happier that he had brought both of his swords.
"You truly understand how to effectively proposition someone, lightkeeper Kyryll." Varka joked, and Kyryll offered him a small laugh. "How could I say no to such an offer? Do you have a spot in mind?"
"Yes. There is an outbreak on the beach not far from here. Though I have confidence in handling it myself, I figured you may enjoy joining me in such an endeavor." He said, his expression falling into something a little softer than usual. It was an expression that Varka hadn't seen before on the lightkeeper's face.
"As long as you don't make me write the patrol report," Varka replied after a moment of staring, and Kyryll gave another small laugh.
"Do not worry. I had not planned to mention your participation." Kyryll responded, and Varka felt the back of his neck heat slightly, but he smiled beside himself. "Unless you would like me to, of course." He added, and Varka chuckled, rubbing his neck.
"I'll leave that up to you. Mentioning that you made a stop to pick up a friend will probably just complicate the report." Varka replied, and he watched Kyryll's lips turn up a fraction more.
"A friend?" The lightkeeper asked, and Varka nodded.
"Do you usually invite strangers to hunt with you?" He asked, and Kyryll inclined his head slightly, conceding easily.
"I do not." The Fae replied, "I most always hunt alone." He added, and Varka smiled,
"Should we get going?" He said, and Kyryll nodded, his face returning to a more normal expression.
"As long as your soldiers won't become lost without you," Kyryll replied, his eyes moving behind Varka for a moment before returning.
Varka followed his gaze and saw the four knights all bunched together, staring at them. As Varka turned to look, though, they separated and tried to look like they were busy.
"They are good men," Varka said, shooting a glare at his knights before turning back to Kyryll, "But night shift can get boring, and they get rowdy." He added, and Kyryll just watched him.
"Men are only good under good leadership." He said as he turned towards the forest, beginning to walk away.
Varka stared after him for a moment, heat rising into his face. He hadn't even been given a chance to regain his footing when Kyryll looked back.
"Are you coming, Grand Master?" He asked, and Varka just nodded, shaking off the momentary embarrassment.
"Of course."
=_=
"Grand Master, there is someone here to see you." A voice called from outside Varka's office.
Varka was up and out of his chair immediately, grabbing his swords, which had been sitting nearby. After the first night that Kyryll had appeared and invited him on a hunt, this had been happening regularly. At least once a week, the strange lightkeeper would appear in front of his night guard, scare the hell out of them, and then invite Varka out on patrol when he was inevitably called for.
It had quickly become a highlight of his week, especially during the weeks when Varka had mostly been stuck at his desk. Kyryll always seemed to appear just when his boredom was at its peak, when he would have gone stir-crazy if he were forced to sit any longer.
"Thank you. You are dismissed." Varka said as he breezed by the knight who had come to get him. He had stopped indulging the whispers and gossip of his knights by the third time Kyryll had come to visit. Gossip would always spread. It was one of the ultimate forms of entertainment for knights on watch, but Varka had gotten sick of hearing giggling surrounding his 'midnight visitor'.
Luckily, it hadn't spread around the camp who the visitor was. None of the rumors mentioned a midnight-haired lightkeeper with golden eyes. The lightkeeper, who was the Grand Master's friend, and the mysterious person who visited him at night, at least to the knights, were two entirely separate people.
The routine on the nights when Kyryll came to visit was always the same. He would show up, a guard would be sent to fetch Varka, and Varka would always find him standing just outside the entrance to the keep. Varka had told him many times that he was more than allowed inside, but the lightkeeper had always shown up in the same manner the next time anyway.
The pattern continued this time, as when Varka found him, it was just outside the gates. Kyryll was staring up at the moon when Varka approached him. It had been raining for much of the week, and the clouds had parted for the first time all day, allowing the moonlight to peek through.
"Extra nice night for a hunt," Varka commented as he came to stand next to the Fae.
"I do not enjoy rain," Kyryll said in response, and Varka laughed. "Such a natural weather cycle cannot damage my flame, but it is uncomfortable nonetheless." He added, and Varka hummed in acknowledgment. He enjoyed hearing the factoids that Kyryll sometimes let slip about his race. Varka was still working on putting together the puzzle that was Kyryll Flins.
"Where are we headed tonight?" Varka asked instead of commenting, and Kyryll moved his eyes from the moon to Varka's face, lingering for a moment.
"I've located the source of the outbreaks that we've been tracking. So, I figured we would head there." Kyryll replied, and Varka felt adrenaline run through him. That meant they were likely walking into a big fight. He had been waiting for a challenge.
Though the hunts with Kyryll were always fun, two powerful opponents against a small horde of zombies wasn't a real fight. Varka had never even really gotten to witness the power of Kyryll's flames except during purification. And he couldn't help but be curious about the Fae's true capabilities.
Eradicating the source of the outbreak on the island would mean that life would become easier for everyone. The Ratniki, the knights, and civilians. Of course, eventually, another source would pop out of the ground, and the process would start back over again. But it was always a good thing when they could get rid of one.
"How'd you find it?" Varka finally asked after they had traveled a good way across the island. They had been chatting off and on about other things, but the conversation had eventually lulled into silence.
"Trade secrets, Grand Master Varka," Kyryll responded, his voice amused. "I would not be a very good Ratniki if I were not able to sniff out the source of an outbreak." He said, and Varka snorted.
"I'm pretty sure that would make you a normal Ratniki." He countered, and Kyryll gave a small shrug.
"Well, it seems to be a good thing that I am not a normal Ratniki then." He said, and Varka rolled his eyes.
"I have the feeling we've had this discussion before." He said, and Kyryll smiled.
"We have." He agreed, and Varka couldn't help but grin.
When they finally reached the site that Kyryll had pinpointed as the source, it was after a long climb down a cliff and a short trek through shallow seawater. They stood outside a cave, and now that Varka was in front of it, he could feel the abyss pouring out of it. There was enough that it was tainting the water a muddy purple, and the entrance to the cave was dark and hazy.
The amount of energy coming from the cave made Varka's hair stand up, and goosebumps formed on his arms. It was as if the energy were trying to suppress him, to make him turn back and leave. Kyryll had no reaction, however, and after retrieving his lantern from his side, he disappeared into the hazy darkness of the cave.
Varka followed a moment later and was immediately overcome with a total loss of direction. He could have sworn that he had only taken a few steps, but when he looked back, there was no sign of the cave entrance. The haze was so thick that he could barely even see his own feet, never mind where he was going, and he thought that he could hear voices calling out to him from the darkness.
When he felt something grab his arm, Varka reacted before he could think, and Kyryll narrowly avoided being decapitated. The lightkeeper gave him an exasperated look, and Varka apologized quickly.
"Don't wander off," Kyryll said, moving closer again after being forced to dodge backwards. "And do not listen to the voices. We are obviously not wanted here." He added, raising his lantern in front of them.
The lantern shone with an ethereal light that seemed to cut through the fog. It revealed the side of the cave that they were closest to, which was littered with barnacles and seaweed. High tide surely flooded the cave every night.
"We don't have much time before high tide," Varka commented, and Kyryll let out a soft hum. His focus directed deeper into the cave.
Varka followed Kyryll closely when he began walking again. Opting to walk unnecessarily close to the other man to lessen the risk of getting separated again. It seemed to only take a step or two before they would become separated, and Kyryll would have to fetch Varka once again.
They followed the winding cave up to the point where there were no longer signs of the ocean and then back down again. They walked for so long that Varka was convinced they had been walking for hours. And when Kyryll's spear appeared in his unoccupied hand, Varka hadn't questioned it and drawn his swords as well.
Not long after Kyryll had drawn his spear, the cave opened up into a massive cavern. It was big enough that Varka wondered if they had entered a domain, but weren't aware. And on the wall opposite them, there was an abyssal rift so large that it stretched from floor to ceiling and was at least thirty feet across. Zombies were milling around the base of it, as well as an abyss herald.
"Be careful. There are likely more still inside the rift." Kyryll murmured to him before they engaged, and Varka smiled.
"I know. Whoever doesn't catch the herald has to pay for drinks at the Flagship." He replied, and Kyryll chuckled.
"Very well."
Kyryll had, of course, been right. After his flaming spear had cut down the herald, six more appeared from the rift. One representing each element. It was as if the death of their comrade had finally lured them out, along with more zombies and a few mages.
Varka was still preoccupied by a dense crowd of zombies when the heralds appeared, leaving Kyryll to confront them alone for a few moments. By the time that Varka was able to join him, the geo herald had already fallen at Kyryll's feet. That left five heralds and the remaining mages.
Varka was an experienced warrior. He had fought countless battles, alongside and against many different types of people. But the way Kyryll fought was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. The Fae truly danced through the battlefield, his footwork flowing perfectly through each step. The grace he held while cutting down the abyss was uncanny.
Kyryll had lured three of the heralds away from the main fight slightly, leaving Varka facing the electro and dendro heralds, alongside a few cryo mages. With that lineup, Varka could easily handle himself, and he was about to cut down the dendro herald when a bolt of heat whizzed past his head. Whipping around to see what had attacked him, it was a half-dead pyro herald who had briefly escaped from Kyryll.
In that moment of distraction, Varka felt a bolt of pain in his shoulder, and his body went numb momentarily as electricity fizzled down his spine. One of his swords clattered to the ground. The electro herald had stuck a spear formed of electro through his shoulder, and having been preoccupied, he hadn't been able to dodge.
In the second that he was paralyzed by the electricity, he took a second hit. This time, it was with thorny dendro magic that pierced straight through his thigh and wrapped down his leg to immobilize him further. He had just sliced through the vines when another jolt of electricity emanated from his shoulder, and he barely managed to dodge an incoming pyro attack. Only to come face to face with a dendro lance.
"Shi-" The curse didn't have time to fully leave his mouth when a spear that was glowing with blue flames came rocketing out of the ether and struck through the dendro herald's temple. It took the herald's head clean off, then dissipated into blue flames a moment later.
With his number of opponents down to two again, Varka regained his advantage. His leg injury was concerning, but he could deal with that after the rest of the heralds had fallen.
It didn't take long for the electro herald to fall, but as soon as its comrade was down, the pyro herald began retreating. Likely realizing that it could not win. Varka realized what it was doing a few moments too late, as it began channeling as much pyro as it could into its body.
Varka saw in his peripheral vision as Kyryll turned towards him, his tired golden eyes locking onto the pyro herald for a brief moment before Varka could no longer see him. Not even a second later, Varka felt it as the herald's life force was extinguished. Immediately, the heat of the explosion hit him. On instinct more than anything else, he erected an anemo barrier and lifted his arms to protect his face.
He felt the initial wave of heat burn the hair on his arms, but the scorching heat did not get worse. After a moment of not being turned into kindling, he lowered his arms and opened his eyes.
Kyryll was standing in front of him, spear stabbed into the ground, his entire being alight with blue and indigo flames. His long hair whipped around as if there was a tornado approaching, and it even seemed to glow with flames. He had managed to create some sort of barrier with his own flames, such that the white-hot explosion appeared a shade of sky blue through the filter of Kyryll's flames. And although Varka didn't dare touch them, he had the feeling that if he did, they would not burn him.
The storm of fire created by the herald lasted for another twenty seconds or so. It was a truly powerful finishing move that likely would have seriously injured Varka if he were alone. But Kyryll stood there in front of him, protecting them both with his flames. It occurred to Varka in that moment that he had never had someone protect him like this. That had always been his job.
When the flames finally died down, Kyryll let out a long breath, his blue fire retreating into his lantern. The air that hit Varka after the barrier fell was still burning hot, enough for his skin to prickle with pain. He was truly glad that he had not had to face the explosion head-on.
The cave was now perfectly empty. Even the piles of abyssal ash had been burned away into nothingness. The rift was closing, and while Varka surveyed the room, Kyryll was already heading towards it. Varka watched as the lightkeeper purified the rift, then watched as the Fae returned to his side.
"Do you have any healing magic?" Kyryll asked as he approached, and Varka shook his head, glancing down at his wounds.
"No. Usually, I would have some first aid supplies with me." He grimaced as he felt the adrenaline beginning to wear off. "Or a healer." He added, and Kyryll offered him a small smile.
"Let's find somewhere to sit before you can't stand anymore," Kyryll said instead of commenting, and Varka could only nod. Hobbling after the Fae as he headed towards a small sheltered corner of the cavern. "Do you need help walking?" He asked after a few steps, and Varka shook his head, but the Fae returned to his side anyway.
"You are welcome to use my shoulders as support," Kyryll said, and Varka took a few more steps before giving in. The lightkeeper was a good height to lean on; not many people were tall enough to be comfortable supports for him. Not many people had ever played that role anyway.
Varka sat immediately when they reached the corner of the cave, dropping heavily against the cavern wall. Kyryll kneeled next to him and began inspecting the wound in his thigh. Varka reached over to prod at it, but Kyryll batted his hand away.
"If you can't heal it, then don't touch it." He said, and Varka laughed. It sounded more like an order than anything Varka had received in a long time. So he leaned back and allowed the lightkeeper to continue inspecting it.
When Kyryll moved closer to get a better angle, Varka immediately got a whiff of the smell of the Final Night Cemetery. It was a mix of frostlamp flowers and upturned earth. The distinct smell of the abyss was also in the air, though Varka couldn't tell if it was stuck to the Fae or just lingering from the rift.
"What are you looking for?" Varka asked, feeling as Kyryll tore away some of his bloody pant leg.
"I am inspecting your injury to see if I may be of assistance," Kyryll responded, and Varka let out a sigh. Falling silent as he tried to ignore the pain and instead inspected the top of Kyryll's head.
Just as Varka was sure that Kyryll would sit back and finish inspecting him, he felt a white-hot pain sear up his leg and spine. Kyryll had prodded the wound with two gloved fingers and less care than Varka had expected. Varka had to hold himself back from smashing his head back into the wall.
"What the fuck are you-"
"Please be silent, Grand Master," Kyryll interrupted, "This will only take a moment or two." He added, looking up enough so that Varka could meet his eyes through his bangs. The Fae's lack of pupils was still startling sometimes, but more so were the impossibly black circles under his eyes. In this lighting, it looked as though he had not rested in eons.
"Okay." Varka agreed after a few seconds of staring into the Fae's yellow eyes.
He instantaneously regretted agreeing to whatever Kyryll had planned. Because of the Fae's kneeling position, Varka couldn't really see what he was doing. Still, the smell of burning flesh that enveloped the two of them after a moment was undeniable.
It was all Varka could do to stop himself from squirming as he counted the seconds. Twelve, thirteen, fifteen, twenty-two. It took twenty-two seconds before the feeling of his thigh being burned from the inside out faded into a sharp aching pain instead. The feeling was somehow a relief compared to the burning.
"This should prevent any further blood loss until you get back to camp and see a real healer. I am not truly capable of healing humans, so this is the best I can do for right now. I apologize that I cannot heal you as I can myself." Kyryll was saying, his voice fading in and out of Varka's ears as nausea hit him. "I'll cleanse the remaining abyssal energy while you recenter yourself around reality."
Varka wasn't really sure how long Kyryll was gone after that, but it was long enough that he no longer felt like throwing up his guts every few seconds. He was somewhat prepared to attempt to stand and trek back up the cave when Kyryll returned, but the Fae quickly stopped him from getting up.
"The tide has risen. Unless you feel comfortable holding your breath for a thirteen-minute and forty-two-second swim, we will have to wait until morning." He said once Varka was firmly on his butt on the ground again. Varka did not doubt that he had just swum the entire thing to check.
"With my arm and leg the way they are, I don't think that's a good idea." Varka conceded, rather peeved at the prospect of having to spend a night in the cave.
"Would you like me to attend to your shoulder now? Or would you like to have more time to rest first? Perhaps by a fire with some food?" Kyryll asked, and Varka let out a long groan. Both at the mention of cauterizing his shoulder, and that of food.
"Just get it over with. I'll chicken out if I wait." Varka said, grimacing down at the hole in his leg. It still gave off the distinct smell of charred flesh.
"Very well. I will try my best to make this a fast process. Though if you squirm, I cannot guarantee anything." Kyryll said, and Varka couldn't tell if he was joking or not.
The pain was slightly better this time. Because it was only a slice taken out of his shoulder and not a hole through his leg, it felt closer to normal first aid. But instead of using bandages and a needle, it used ethereal flames that felt as though they could be hotter than the sun.
When Kyryll was done with his shoulder, he wrapped the wound tightly with a thick piece of cloth. Then a second piece was produced and tied around his thigh. Where he had gotten the material, Varka wasn't sure, but he was grateful not to have the wound exposed to the damp air. He had no interest in letting either of his wounds become infected.
As he sat there, praying to Barbatos that the nausea and splitting headache would recede, the smell of food began to overtake the smell of burning flesh and the abyss. Varka wasn't sure when Kyryll had managed to make a fire, but he seemed to have a few skewers roasting over its blue flames.
Because of the shape of the corner they had landed in, the fire warmed the air significantly, and along with the scent of roasting meat, Varka began to feel a bit better. The smell of burning kelp also permeated the air, but it was a surprisingly pleasant combo with the meat.
"I do not know much about human consumption or cooking." Kyryll was saying, and Varka tried to tune into his voice the best he could. "But my acquaintances often enjoyed roasted boar on expeditions. I will try my best not to overcook it."
The meat was incredibly overcooked, but Varka didn't complain. He was starving and in constant pain. He would have eaten a leather boot if one had been provided to him. Kyryll did not eat. He instead fed his lantern a few pieces of the dead kelp that blanketed the alcove floor. Varka wondered if that was his version of eating, similar to how one would feed a fire a log every so often.
"When I mention you to anyone else, they only know you by the name Flins," Varka said, not really sure where that train of thought was going, but he needed some distraction for the gnawing pain.
"As you know, Flins is my surname. Kyryll is my given name, but I do not often introduce myself as such." Kyryll responded easily. "Humans often find it difficult to pronounce, and it is a distinct name of a long-forgotten era. I have not gone by the name Kyryll in conversation for a very long time now." He explained, his eyes reflecting the blue flames of the campfire. He was sitting ten or so feet from Varka, at the entrance to the alcove. Almost as if he were keeping watch.
"Would you prefer that I call you Flins?" Varka asked, and Kyryll didn't respond for a few long seconds.
"You may refer to me however you wish. Others do not know me by my given name, so it may lead to confusion if you refer to me as such in conversation." He eventually replied, his eyes wandering to Varka for a few moments.
"I'll keep it between us then, Kyryll," Varka said, shooting a clumsy wink at the Fae, who gave him a small smile.
"As you wish, Grand Master Varka." He simply said, his eyes returning to the fire.
Eventually, after a long enough silence, Varka fell into an uneasy sleep. He woke up many times with sudden jolts of pain or with a rock digging into his back, but managed to get a decent amount of rest despite the conditions. Kyryll allowed him to wake naturally, and when he did, it was because his leg felt as if it were trying to cut itself off.
Upon inspection, nothing was noticeably wrong with it, which was a relief. It hadn't reopened throughout the night, and when Varka tried to move his leg, it hurt about as much as he would expect. He would be able to make it back to camp at least, which was a relief.
After making sure his injuries were okay, his eyes landed on his Fae companion. His head was turned away from Varka, watching the large cavern. His spear was leaning against the cave wall beside him, his lantern hanging off of it. He was in a similar position to what Varka remembered from before he fell asleep.
"Did anything exciting happen while I was out?" Varka asked after staring long enough to start feeling a bit creepy. Kyryll turned to face him and shook his head.
"No. Remnants of the wild hunt formed a few entities, but they were truly a sad showing." He said, "The tide went down three hours ago, approximately. We can leave whenever you feel ready."
Varka realized again that he had never really been in this position before. He had always been the one pulling all-night watch shifts when his party was injured. He had always been the person defending the group when no one else could, or when no one felt like it. That had always been him, even when he was injured. It was always him. He had gladly stepped into that role every time and would continue to do so. But Kyryll hadn't even given him the chance.
"I should be okay to go now," Varka replied after a moment, and before he could even try to get up, Kyryll was by his side. A gloved hand outstretched. Varka accepted the hand gladly, managing to get up using only his good leg with the assistance. Kyryll did not let his hand go, though, after Varka stood.
"I think I'll be okay now," Varka said, sensing the Fae's hesitation to let him fully support himself. "It hurts like hell and is totally stiff, but I'll be able to limp around." He shot Kyryll a smile and got a dead stare in return.
"Once you get back to the camp, you will have to walk on your own. My duty now is to make sure you make it there, Grand Master Varka." Kyryll replied, and Varka couldn't help but laugh. "You are welcome to use my shoulders, or I can simply carry you." He continued, and Varka let out a snort at the thought.
Varka settled one arm over Kyryll's shoulders, marveling once again at how perfect a height the Fae was. It took a few moments of adjusting for him to get comfortable, but eventually, they began to make their way out of the cavern. With the amount of weight that Kyryll took from him, the walk ended up being semi-comfortable, and he only tripped once.
"Will you come back to the camp this time?" Varka asked, and Flins hummed. Varka felt the sound as much as he heard it, a slight thrum that went through Kyryll's shoulders.
"If you would like me to," Kyryll responded, and Varka smiled.
"I would. We got a new shipment of dandelion wine the other day, as well as a few bottles of fine firewater that went into my personal stash." Varka said, and Kyryll smiled slightly.
"It has been quite a long time since I indulged in firewater from my homeland." He replied, and Varka returned with a hum of his own.
"It goes down quite smoothly once you get past the initial burn. Or once you're drunk enough." He joked, and Kyryll gave a soft laugh, the sound causing a slight rise in his shoulders.
"I am flattered that you are offering me your personal collection," Kyryll murmured, and Varka laughed, cringing slightly as somehow the sound made his leg hurt.
"I don't know why I wouldn't."
=_=
Because of Varka's leg and shoulder, it took them much longer not only to make it out of the cave, but also to get back up the face of the cliff. Luckily, Varka was able to use his vision to ascend most of it and was only forced to climb a small portion. He wouldn't have made it up the cliff without his vision, as even that small portion took a lot out of him. When they got to the top, they stopped for a bit so Varka could rest.
For the rest of the trek back to camp, Kyryll didn't leave Varka's side a single time. He made sure that Varka was never wading through water, stomping through mud, or pushing through brambles. Instead, doing those things himself and leaving Varka room on the actual footpath.
It was equally endearing and perplexing behavior. Sure, Varka was injured, but he wasn't about to keel over and die. Had the Fae's behavior made the trip significantly easier and less painful? Yes. More so than Varka would admit. But it still wasn't behavior that Varka knew how to be on the receiving end of.
Kyryll only separated himself from Varka's side when they were less than five minutes from the knights' camp.
When they finally returned to camp, almost fifteen minutes later, the preparations for dinner were being finished. Varka made somewhat of a showing of returning victorious before dragging Kyryll with him to the medics.
It didn’t take long for Varka’s wounds to be healed; all but the scars and some remaining pain were gone. And while Varka was being healed, Kyryll had a short talk with the healer, who was still disgruntled about his disappearance. Varka had found that conversation incredibly entertaining to listen to, and Kyryll somewhat glared at him through the entire interaction.
From there, they went to the mess hall, where Kyryll took up a seat at an empty table in the back corner. It also happened to be close to the entrance, and Varka didn’t comment on how it seemed like the Fae was ready to flee at a moment's notice.
Varka made a toast over dinner, claiming it to be a special occasion because of his victory over the abyss, and from there, the alcohol began flowing freely. There were a few tankards of dandelion wine brought out, as well as a few barrels of something stronger.
It took Varka longer than he would’ve liked to return to where Kyryll was seated. He had gotten caught up telling, and then retelling, the story of his most recent victory, and then telling it a third and fourth time to soldiers who claimed they hadn’t heard it properly. After each telling, he was rewarded with a fresh mug of wine.
When he finally took up the seat next to Kyryll, the Fae offered him his untouched bowl of stew. Varka took it without complaint, going to get them both refills as a trade.
No one seemed to notice Varka leaving the center of the party, which he was grateful for. Though at this point many of the knights were already much too drunk to care about what their Grand Master was doing, it was still a relief when no prying eyes followed him back to Kyryll’s table with two mugs filled to the brim with wine.
Varka watched as Kyryll took a long sip of the wine, humming appreciatively at the taste. He wondered if Kyryll’s shoulders shook slightly every time he made that sound. The thought was accompanied by the realization that the Fae’s face lacked some of the distant neutrality that it usually did. He almost looked more human.
“How much have you drunk?” Varka asked, and Kyryll shrugged lightly.
“I do not usually count.” He replied, taking another light sip from the mug. “I quite enjoy this wine. It goes down more smoothly than I had expected.” He added, and Varka smiled, taking a sip of his own drink.
“I’m glad it suits your fancy.” He said, smiling down into his cup. “It tastes like home.”
“Do you miss your homeland?” Kyryll asked after a few moments, looking up at Varka and meeting his gaze. There was something in Kyryll’s eyes that Varka could not quite name, but it drew him in nonetheless.
“Every day,” Varka said, laughing slightly. “I miss the city; there’s this restaurant that I always go to when I need to escape paperwork, and I miss the food there. I miss the people too. I have a few kids whom I take care of. They aren’t mine, though. I don’t have anyone like that to miss.” Varka said. Awkward heat rising to his cheeks as he laughed more.
“Do you? Miss your homeland, I mean?” He asked before he could stop himself, and he wasn’t surprised when Kyryll looked away.
The silence between them was heavy, the rowdy background noise doing little to distract from the awkwardness. But eventually, after a few more long sips of wine, Kyryll responded.
“I think of it sometimes. But not, I do not miss it.” He responded, and Varka was surprised, though he could not name why. Kyryll didn’t elaborate, instead draining the rest of his wine. Varka followed suit, and the Fae had grabbed his mug before he could stand to get more.
“I will get us some more,” Kyryll said, not waiting for a response before heading off to the current tankard, which was most likely almost empty. Many of the lightweight knights were already passed out on tables or on the floor, and those who weren’t out yet had started some kind of betting game on the other side of the dining area.
When Kyryll returned, he did not sit down. He handed Varka his mug and glanced towards the tent doors.
“Would you like to get some air?” He asked, gesturing to the doors. They had been propped open a long time ago, with the drunk knights overheating quickly inside the tent. A cool breeze was flowing in through the opening, and Varka could see some stars shining faintly in the sky.
“That would be nice.” He agreed after a moment, standing and following the Fae out of the warm tent.
It was a pleasant night. The sky was clear, and for the first time in weeks, it wasn’t freezing. The moon was full, and the camp was bathed in its pale glow.
They walked for a bit, Varka pointing out interesting things around the keep, before they ended up settling on the other side of camp from the mess hall. They were close to Varka’s personal quarters, which overlooked the ocean, and Varka could see Kyryll’s island far off in the distance, a dark smudge against the already dark horizon.
The noise from the party had disappeared completely due to the distance, and they stood in silence for a long time.
“How long have you been in Nod-Krai?” Varka asked after what he felt was an appropriate amount of silence.
“That is a question that is more difficult to answer than I believe you intended,” Kyryll said, and Varka just shrugged. He was drunk enough not to bother retracting the question. “I was created in Nod-Krai, but not this world’s version. So in some ways, I have been here my whole life. And in other, I have only been here a few hundred years.” He eventually added, and Varka almost choked on his wine.
“Only a few hundred?” He asked in disbelief, “How old are you?”
“That is a rather rude question, Grand Master,” Kyryll said, smiling. “This year I will be seven hundred and nine.” He added without much pause, taking a sip of his wine to cover his smile as Vraka gaped at him.
“Seriously? And here I am insecure about being old at thirty-seven!” Varka said, laughing a bit louder than he intended. “So are you immortal then? Or is it similar to dragons and you just age really slowly?”
“I am not immortal, but I also do not age as biological beings do. I can be killed, if my flame is extinguished, but if I am not killed, I will likely live until the end of time.” Kyryll replied easily, pausing for a moment before continuing in a quieter voice. “I cannot kill myself either, so unless I am slain, I will remain on Teyvat.” He paused again, not looking at Varka, before finishing his wine and placing the mug gently on the fence they were standing by.
Varka wasn’t totally sure how to respond to that. He would hate being immortal, to see everyone he loves age and disappear in such a seemingly insignificant amount of time. To be stuck in an endless existence until something powerful enough comes along and ends it.
“You’ve been alive for so long, but you’ve never left Nod-Krai?” Varka settled on asking, and Kyryll shook his head lightly. His gold eyes catching the moonlight as he moved.
“I have never had a reason to.” He said, looking up at the moon. “I have a duty to the lightkeepers, to the Final Night Cemetery, and to the people of Nod-Krai to protect them from the wild hunt.” Varka finished his own mug as Kyryll spoke, setting it on the ground.
“You could come see the world with me if you want, when we leave.” Varka offered, and Kyryll’s eyes widened in what Varka thought was surprise. “After we’re done here, we’ll be traveling home to Mondstadt. It’s nothing like Nod-Krai. We’ll pass through Natlan and Sumeru too, on the way.” He said, and he must have drunk more than he thought, because before he knew it, he was blabbering about the things he had seen while traveling.
He talked, surprising himself, about how he missed being home, but when he was home, he missed being an adventurer. He missed the stability of having a home base, but also missed the excitement of travel, meeting new people, and seeing new things. He tried to explain the thrill of being a wandering adventurer, but found that no matter how he worded it, it fell short.
Kyryll listened intently, as if maybe he would actually consider leaving Nod-Krai one day. And eventually, after Varka had run out of stories that seemed exciting enough to share, Kyryll offered a few of his own. Most involved snowy wastelands, grand palaces, and events too historic for Varka’s drunk mind to truly comprehend.
“You’ve seen so much,” Varka mumbled, finding himself leaning forward to rest his arms on the wooden fence that they were standing by. The moon had moved lower as they talked, signaling that it was well past midnight now. “The world must seem so different to you.” He continued, and Kyryll, somewhere to his right, laughed softly.
“Everyone already sees the world differently,” Kyryll responded, and when Varka looked over, he was closer than Varka remembered him being. If Varka shifted his posture, their shoulders would brush. “I have just seen more than most.”
“I don’t think I could do it,” Varka said, watching waves crash against the rocks far below them. “Being immortal, I mean. Sometimes I wish that I could live longer, to be able to see more, but immortality is too much.”
“It is not usually a choice that one gets to make,” Kyryll said, and Varka realized, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he may be prodding a subject he shouldn’t.
Silence fell between them when Varka couldn’t think of a response, and in his peripheral vision he realized that Kyryll was watching him. His golden eyes shone closer to silver in the moonlight, and when Varka met his gaze, the lightkeeper continued staring for a few moments before looking away. Gazing back towards the ocean beneath them.
“I, on occasion, wish that I were not born a Fae,” Kyryll said after the silence had stretched far too long. “Though I do not regret my life, there were times when I wished it would not continue.” He continued, his gloved fingers tapping on the wood of the fence lightly.
“I don’t think anyone could live as long as you have and not feel that way,” Varka said, the words feeling clumsy on his tongue. He almost flinched when the Fae’s eyes landed back on him, but they were soft.
“It is a hard feeling to avoid,” Kyryll said, dipping his chin the slightest bit, his fingers slowing their rhythm against the wood.
“I think you would enjoy traveling.” Varka found himself saying. “Nod-Krai would survive without you for a while. And, y’know, maybe you’ll meet some people who won’t be gone so fast.” He said, his voice falling off into awkwardness with the last few words.
The only sound for a few moments was the light breeze, and Varka was about to apologize for making everything awkward when Kyryll let out a laugh. It wasn’t the usual soft and polite chuckle that he usually gave. Instead, it started as a slight laugh and devolved into small giggles that were uncontrolled.
Kyryll’s shoulder brushed Varka’s as he laughed, and although Varka wasn’t sure why he was laughing, he was glad the awkward silence was gone. Varka couldn’t help but smile as he listened to Kyryll laugh. He wasn’t sure who it was that had moved, but by the time Kyryll’s giggles died down, their shoulders were pressed together.
“I appreciate that,” Kyryll murmured, his weight pressing against Varka’s shoulder. His fingers lying still a few centimeters from Varka's own.