Work Text:
The first thing Phainon feels, after the blinding pain of a bat to the head, is the sensation of a dam breaking.
His back hits the grass, and there's a commotion around him. With whatever tethers to awareness he has, Phainon should probably wonder if the hit will actually damage his brain in some way.
"Oh my aeons-! Shit, dude are you-"
"Phainon-!"
His quick descent into unconsciousness doesn't let him hear anything else. Instead, a whirlwind of seemingly endless memories spill out into his brain, as if barely contained by a thin veil that is now broken. The same events happening countless times, but all oh so slightly different. Bright beacons of happiness, companionship and love sprinkled in a sea of utter misery and determination.
Pink hair swirling in their homeland's gentle breeze, a laugh beautiful like twinkling bells resonating across the wheat fields.
(Some of the worst times had been when Cyrene lived long enough to give him kindness on her way out. It did not matter that Dawnmaker was carving its way through her chest, or the atrocities he had committed in endless loops. Sometimes, she would smile at him sadly and reach her bloody hand out for a final soothing caress to what remained of his face.)
Golden threads holding their world together, the feather-soft, loving touch of death's butterfly wings.
(Aglaea might have thought herself exceedingly cold with her eroded humanity, but her firm and gentle guidance was always as warm to Phainon as the golden fields of his homeland. There was still some of that warmth in her, the few times he had curled up next to the dying form of the one person he had considered a mother after Aedes Elysiae's fall.
Castorice had always claimed a part of Phainon's heart that was tender and a little painful. It always seemed horrifyingly unfair to him that such a loving person was forced to keep everyone she loved at arm's length; that she could never touch all the beautiful creatures she looked at home with. Killing her always felt like tearing a chunk of his heart out.)
Compassionate wisdom held in three pairs of tiny hands, the kindest and most selfless lie in history.
(For someone that had been a constant for over a thousand years, Tribios was full of contradictions. They were child-like and playful, but the way they spoke was distinctly old. All of them the same person, but not quite. The dolls they left behind with their deaths were cute and meant to bring joy, but the new Phainon of every cycle could never see them without ending up in tears.
As was proper of a cat, Cipher was always generally skittish around him. Even if he knew that she was like that with everyone, and later would find out the reason, it was still amusing; he had often been likened to a puppy, so her teasing him was fitting. Their final chases offered the slightest bit of levity before Khaslana was forced to take her coreflame by all means necessary.)
A slightly softer edge in the single-minded pursuit of knowledge, determination to heal even the worst of the damned.
(Phainon would not describe Anaxa himself as fatherly at all, but it's a little difficult to see his steadfast confidence in him, Castorice and Hyacine as anything but. To an extent, the professor fascinated him in his insanity; the man would make any exchange he deemed worthy for the results they needed in the pursuit of knowledge or survival, including his own soul and life. He would never make the mistake of thinking of Anaxa as uncaring, though. Even his harshest words in his countless final breaths were a demonstration of wisdom laced with the sharp straightforwardness of his care.
There was always something hauntingly beautiful about Hyacine's defiance of fate. In the darkest of hours, when all was already lost, ravaged by the corruption of the black tide, Hyacine's devotion to her mission of healing and protecting others remained ever strong. Sometimes he was forced to extinguish her light, one of the few lovely beacons remaining in their world. Sometimes, she took one of the most horrifying pages out of Khaslana's book; trying to heal her dear friend, Hyacine would burn herself to ashes on his flames.)
Ruthlessness behind a chess board, the enchanting voice echoing in the sea.
(Very few cycles did Khaslana get properly acquainted with Cerydra and Hysilens. They far preceded any of Phainon's birth dates, and not often were their actions anything he felt the need to intervene with. Most times, neither of them would be there for the final centuries of the Flame-Chase. Early on, he would judge Cerydra's tyranny and unchecked ambition. Then Khaslana figured he was being hypocritical, for wasn't he doing something similar? Taking matters into his own hands, sacrificing those he loved time and time again, for an outcome that would hopefully lead to a better tomorrow?
Cerydra was not really his mirror, but it became hard to despair at her choices as the cycles went on. Though when he could still feel it, his heart would ache for Hysilens. Time and time again, her blade would be what ended Cerydra, and her newfound heart and light always went with her. Sometimes she would die with her, others she would float in her own misery until time took her.)
Nameless heroes who brought the final piece; Time, Earth and Worldbearing in their unintended, but perfect slots.
(Phainon would liken his love for the Nameless to how a drowning man loves the sight of firm land. It's fierce, supremely thankful, and protective all at once. He wouldn't say he loved them more than he loved the original Chrysos Heirs by any measure, but they were a bright spot of respite: he had never had to kill them, never had their blood on his hands or their loss fueling the self-consuming fire of his mission. Stelle's courage and weirdness, Dan Heng's enduring wisdom and March's (or Miss Evernight's?) enigmatic surety were not home, but they were peace. And that was just as good.)
Strife… It's ruthless blade and gentle heart… The missing part of his soul.
(One night, early enough in the cycles that he still had the ability to dream, Khaslana woke up in tears that evaporated before they could trail down his temples. He had seen Mydei in the wheat fields; his Mydei, not one of the thousands he drove his blade through, but the one who held his heart the very first time. All Phainons have loved their Mydei, and Khaslana was no exception. His smile was beautiful, forgiving. One of his bare hands had tried to hold Khaslana's, but he couldn't bring himself to allow it.
"My beloved Mydeimos, I have been crowned in your blood so many times… I'm afraid to hold you with hands that are forever stained with your death.")
He knows there have to be too many missing parts; his now normal, human brain would likely not be able to hold 33 million cycles' worth of memories even after driving him insane. But what he has access to is already torturous enough that he's not sure they won't drive him off the deep end anyway. To have loved like this and been forced to lose it all by his own hand time and time and time again…
Before the memories settle and he wakes up, he remembers a line that haunted him every single cycle. However, where he once found dread in its ominous foreshadowing, now he finds comfort in knowing that it is a wish that will ring true for once:
"May this world never have need for a Deliverer."
*****
The second his classes are over, Mydei checks his teleslate, freezes for two seconds, and then messily gathers all of his things to hurry out the door. He spares a second to regret wearing a hoodie to class today now that he has to run, but his attention quickly goes back to the current problem.
Of all things, of all fucking things, of course Phainon had to get a bat to the head. Ever since they met, the man had the tendency to get himself into trouble; usually as a product of his well-meaning nature, sometimes due to having his head in the clouds.
Getting his brain rebooted because he tried to recover a doll for Miss Mortis's daughters and somehow didn't see an idiot playing with a bat is a bit much, even for Phainon. Honestly, Mydei wishes it didn't make his heart feel like it's clawing around his ribcage from worry.
The guy has a hard head, he'll be fine. He'll probably just have to haul him back to their apartment with Castorice's help, make sure he sleeps plenty, and that will be that.
Except, Mydei gets to the college clinic to be faced with a puzzling and concerning array of people. He catches sight of a grey-haired woman in strange clothes and tightly clutching a black and gold baseball bat. Her golden eyes meet Mydei's, shining with recognition before her expression crumbles into a guilty wince.
Ignoring the bizarre sense of recognition despite knowing he has never met her, Mydei puts two and two together and directs a pissed off stare in her direction. However, any attempts at demanding an explanation die a pitiful death when three tiny heads of vibrant red hair cross his path.
"De, we missed you!"
"De, De! Look at the doll Snowy rescued for me!"
"De, we brought cookies for you and Snowy. We made them with mom."
His anger and stress melting away for the most part, Mydei smiles down at the young triplets eagerly trying to get his attention. He bends down to help Tribbie sit on his shoulders, her careful hands making sure to not pull on his hair too hard. Trianne takes advantage of the position to climb so she's hanging off his back, secured in place by Mydei's arm reaching back for support. Shy as always, Trinnon patiently waits until he reaches for her with his other arm, happily settling in his hold as he stands back up.
(Off to the side, Stelle lets out a relieved sigh. She won't have to deal with a pissed off, if now mortal, Mydei for now.)
"Hi, little ones. Have you been keeping an eye on that dummy for me?" Mydei lets out a soft laugh when he receives three enthusiastic nods, each triplet launching into a retelling of how they tried and failed to carry Phainon here before the adults helped out.
"They've been doing a great job, Mydeimos, but they refused to take a nap at their usual hour," a soft, affectionate voice sounds from behind him, and Mydei carefully turns around to see Mortis. Her long, red hair is up in a ponytail, and her eyes shine bright with amusement at seeing her daughters clinging to him. He was once her student, though nowadays he sees her more when he babysits the triplets. "Hyacinthia said that Phainon should be fine. He has been having some… concerningly strong reactions, but nothing that indicates something is wrong with his brain so far."
Aside from the usual stuff, is what Mydei barely stops himself from saying in his relief. He makes sure to direct a grateful smile Mortis's way, but he's quickly distracted by a pull on his braid.
"Cinny is the best-best! She said Snowy will be okay, so we're not scared anymore!" Trianne shouts in joy, clutching her doll tightly. It makes Mydei happy to see she's not blaming herself or the doll for the incident; it would likely break Phainon's heart.
If there's anyone who loves helping Mortis in taking care of Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon more than Mydei himself, it's Phainon.
"We were sad because Snowy is crying a lot… but Cinny said it's just for now because he's really sad and scared," Trinnon quietly explains, making sure to put the little bag of cookies she's holding in the pocket of Mydei's hoodie. He figures she probably knows he'll put them back on the floor soon. Somehow, she can always tell.
"Thank you Tribbie, Trianne, Trinnon. I'll make some honeycakes for you guys next time I stop by your house," Mydei's promise saves him from any pouts or whines while putting them down, and he gets three cheers instead. "Go with your mom and take that nap, alright?"
After nods and three pinky promises, Trianne and Trinnon run over to their mother, but Tribbie stops Mydei before he can stand straight again. Her little hands settle on his cheeks, and her starry eyes look into his with a disturbingly wise glint to them. "Please don't be mad at Little Grey? She didn't mean to hit Snowy, she even cried too! Please, De?"
He immediately knows who "Little Grey" is. Even though he's confused at Tribbie's quick affection for the woman who almost turned Phainon's brain to mush, he can't just say no to the child. "Alright, I'll try to not be mad at her, yes?"
Satisfied, Tribbie joins her sisters, and they leave with their mother after Mortis shoots Mydei a final reassuring look. To avoid breaking his promise to Tribbie, the blond decides to completely skip interacting with the woman awkwardly fidgeting with the bat for now. Instead, he heads deeper down the corridor, closer to the room number Castorice texted him.
He said he'd try to not be mad at "Little Grey", not that he would go out of his way to talk to her.
Outside of Phainon's room, Mydei spots Anaxa and Hyacine in furious discussion. Rarely is their bubbly friend and resident doctor anything but playful and put-together, but now her frown and rapid-fire arguing with her old professor projects only frustration and concern. As usual with Anaxa (at least from Phainon's description and Mydei's scarce meetings with him), his face offers no insights on his thought process or feelings aside from an occasional annoyed scowl.
Their argument stays a mystery to him, because Hyacine grips her professor's arm in warning as soon as she spots Mydei. Her expression turns friendly, though the worried glint in her eyes remains. "Mydei! Happy to see you here, Phainon will need some help getting back to your apartment."
After greeting both of them, Mydei's head swims with all the questions he means to ask but can't focus enough to word them. He struggles for a few seconds before Anaxa takes pity on him.
"He should keep to light activities and a lot of rest for the coming days. The blow to his head was really hard and it triggered a… strong emotional reaction. Try to not be frightened by it, it may stress him out more and make it worse." Anaxa's intervention efficiently addresses most of Mydei's unvoiced questions. He seems unhappy at having to omit something, but Hyacine's blank stare is enough of a warning.
The pair encourage him to go in as they take their leave, probably to keep arguing somewhere they can't be overheard. Mydei doesn't care, his attention is entirely directed to seeing Phainon safe and sound with his own eyes.
Opening the door, Mydei is first greeted with the sound of muffled crying and Castorice's troubled voice. "Phainon, please… Just let go of me enough for you to drink some water, you're crying too much."
The only response she gets from Phainon is him burying his head further where it's resting in the crook of her neck, one of his arms hugging her close and the other gently but persistently holding her hand. The gloves she usually wears sit abandoned on the bedside table.
She relaxes after she sees who entered, her free hand still carding through her friend's fluffy white hair in an attempt to comfort him.
"Oh thank Kephale, you're here," Castorice greets him with a smile. Lost for words at the situation, Mydei gestures to her bare hands. Her smile turns sad. "He was crying a lot harder… It only got better after I took off my gloves."
"I see…" Mydei snuffs out the barely-there flicker of jealousy rearing its head at seeing Phainon cuddle up to someone else; it's just dear Castorice, and she loves Hyacine as hopelessly as he loves their white-haired friend. "Has he told you what's wrong?"
"No," Castorice sighs. Her hand presses Phainon's head closer to herself, hoping to ease him further. It doesn't work. "He keeps holding my hands and hugging me, but I haven't been able to make him stop crying."
They fall silent for a few minutes, each stewing in worry for Phainon and his endless crying.
"I think… skin contact soothes him?" Castorice suggests. A mischievous glint ignites in her eye as she very politely stares at Mydei. "I may have a better candidate in mind for it."
The implication makes Mydei's face flush, a little panicked at his very not-subtle infatuation being aired out like that. Not like Phainon is in any state to notice it.
"Shut up, Cas…" Mydei grumbles in embarrassment. Then he takes a deep breath, and starts the process of trying to separate his roommate from melting into Castorice. "Phainon?"
It's hard at first: Phainon doesn't have the energy to put up much of a fight at that moment, but his cries turn into genuinely upset whines the more he's separated from her. Once he's far enough, they turn him around to prevent him from attaching himself to Castorice again.
Coming face to face with his best friend is… rough. Mydei can see the bruise on Phainon's forehead where the bat hit, but that's far from the worst of it. His face is red and he looks feverish, a mess of still-flowing tears and snot over it. His eyes are hazy and lost, as if they're looking at Mydei and also completely through him at the same time. Then his expression crumbles into a display of utter guilt and despair. In a flash, his strong arms wrap around Mydei, and his crying gets louder. The last thing the blond sees is Castorice's alarmed expression before his senses are filled with white hair and trembling sobs.
"HKS, calm down! Everything is okay, you're okay," Mydei futilely tries to stop the frantic crying, but Phainon embraces him like he'll disappear the second he lets go. One of his hands covers a spot on Mydei's back that has always been unexpectedly sensitive, as if shielding him from something. "Hey, don't- Phainon? It's just me, it's okay!"
Even accounting for the head injury, Mydei doesn't understand what could possibly be wrong enough to warrant these cries. There's such a bone-deep, heart-shattering sorrow permeating Phainon's sobs, it makes tears sting at Mydei's eyes, his strong arms tightening around his friend.
He knows that both Mortis and Anaxa explained that this is merely a product of the hit, but… Mydei has his doubts, deep down. With no way to prove his hypothesis, the blond decides to just hold his friend for now and bring him home as soon as he calms down enough for it.
*****
Phainon is eerily quiet for a few days after the hit.
At some point he exhausted himself to unconsciousness, which allowed Mydei to carry him back with the help of Castorice and a very apologetic Stelle (who he glared at the whole way home, but didn't go further than that. He'd keep some sort of peace for Tribbie's sake). However, that isn't the end of his worries.
The couple of times they visit, Phainon talks to Hyacine, Anaxa and Aglaea in soft murmurs that cause them all to frown in concern and… regret? Mydei is not sure what to make of it; he always tries to put on his headphones and stay in the kitchen to give them some privacy. At least as much as he can without letting Phainon leave his sight. If he was fine, he knows it would drive his roommate up the wall and elate him at the same time: he hates feeling that others worry about him, but he also acts like a happy dog when Mydei's attention is on him.
(Mydei tries to not get his hopes up over it. Nothing short of a direct confession is a guarantee of anything, and he's not going to leave himself vulnerable to heartbreak if he can help it. He does enjoy basking in the fond attention and hare-brained challenges, though.)
Slowly, the white haired puddle of sadness he calls a roommate recovers most of his brightness over a couple of weeks. Hearing him laugh again like he usually does makes the tight fist over Mydei's heart ease, even if that laugh is still somewhat strained. It's a better reassurance than Hyacine's constant affirmations that everything was fine, he just needed to be patient.
Until only a few days later, Phainon comes into the kitchen with a sleepy question of what Mydei is making for breakfast, and carelessly rests his chin on the blond's shoulder. The contact makes the blond yelp and almost send their eggs flying.
Phainon's temperature is so high it almost hurts Mydei, and it certainly makes his worries skyrocket. Alarmed, he turns the stove off and immediately grab's Phainon's shoulders to push him towards the living room. "Why are you up right now!?"
"Huh- Mydei, what-?" Phainon stares at him as if he had told him that Anaxa doesn't like dromas anymore. At least he doesn't put on a fight when his roommate pushes him to sit on the couch.
"HKS, you're so hot right now it's concerning. Fucking go rest, now."
The statement makes Phainon's face blush a pretty shade of pink, and he shyly looks up at Mydei through his lashes. "Well, I do think you're hot too, Mydei-"
"No, dumbass, I mean you're burning up!" Mydei frantically rummages around their drawers for the thermometer. What is sure to be an infuriating retort from Phainon gets shut down by the thermometer shoved into his mouth. Focused, Mydei stares at the numbers quickly going up: 37 degrees, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 4-
Terrified to let it keep going up, the blond pulls it out and waves it in front of Phainon's face. "Does this look normal to you!?"
"… Maybe?"
In complete silence, they stare at each other. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the fucking last one either, Mydei wonders where he gets the patience to put up with Phainon's bullshit. "I'm calling Hyacine."
"Wait wait wait!" Phainon stops him and takes his teleslate away. Feeling the imminent risk of getting chewed out for it, the white-haired man takes Mydei's hand in his and places it on his forehead. "See? It's all normal, no need to make a scene!"
Stupefied, Mydei keeps laying his hand all over Phainon's face and neck, trying to find a trace of the burning heat he felt earlier. Only to find absolutely nothing except normal human temperature.
Tension fills the room, and Mydei knows that Phainon knows him well enough by now to even attempt to gaslight him into thinking it was all in his head. Instead, the older man clears his throat and offers him an awkward smile. "So, uh. Want me to help you make breakfast?"
Mydei doesn't let him help with breakfast. As a matter of fact, Mydei doesn't let him get off the couch at all that day, watching him like a hawk and periodically checking his temperature. Of course, Phainon isn't happy about it at all, but he's uncharacteristically subdued about it.
(The next time Hyacine comes by to visit, Mydei informs her of the events of the other day. She takes a deep breath, hands Little Ica to him, and then practically skips to Phainon's room.
It takes approximately five seconds for Phainon's yelp to be heard from where Mydei is drinking pomegranate juice in the living room.
"Forty-how-many degrees!?")
*****
Whether it is because of the hit to the head or him being mad at Mydei for telling Hyacine about his dangerous fever, Phainon has been a little jumpy around him these past days. He startles when Mydei tries to reach for something he was about to grab, tries his very best to never bump into him, and never roughhouses with him the way they used to.
One time Phainon somehow breaks a glass just by grabbing it, He offers no explanation to Mydei's insistent stare, just shrugs and laughs. "Whoops, must have been cracked already."
Nevermind that the glass was very much not cracked, and even if it was, that didn't look like nearly enough force to send its pieces flying. Still, Mydei could have maybe let it slide if it had been the only incident in their apartment.
But it's hard to ignore the mangled mess that is Phainon's doorknob now, or the time he accidentally rips a book in half across the spine. He could even add some minor incidents to the count, like how he almost dropped the couch he was carrying one-handed on Mydei's laptop.
Things come to a head when Mydei gets home after the gym one day, and his heart drops the second he opens their door.
The living room is a complete disaster. Broken decorations are littered across the floor, their couch has been flipped. The knocked-over bookshelf means there's books all over the floor, but the most concerning thing is the burn marks: the pages of several books are singed, spots of the couch too. There's even scorch-marks along the walls.
Worst of all, there's no sign of Phainon, despite Mydei knowing he had to stay home to finish an assignment. That fact brings with it a thorny type of terror, tearing him from inside with every step he takes inside the apartment. Someone broke in and trashed their place and Phainon isn't there.
"Phainon… Phainon!" Mydei calls out, stepping further into the apartment in a hurry. He doesn't think to grab anything to defend himself (not like he'd be swimming for options, unless he tries to use his kitchen knives), and just follows the trail of scorch-marks and disaster until he's standing in front of the bathroom. Faint cursing is heard through the door, and shuffling that sounds entirely too clumsy and big to be normal. "Phai, it's me. If you're hurt I can help, we can call Anaxa or Hyacine, maybe Cas-"
"No…" Phainon doesn't sound in pain at all, much to Mydei's relief.
Tentatively, Mydei places his hand on the bathroom doorknob. It's hot to the touch, though thankfully not in a way that can harm him. As if it has been cooling down for a while already. Determined, Mydei prepares to turn it. He has already let too many things slip in the name of giving his best friend space, he can't bring himself to turn a blind eye to whatever is going on with Phainon anymore. "I'm not asking, Phai. I'm going in. You're welcome to try and fight me over it."
Phainon hasn't fought him over anything lately, and judging by the distressed whimper coming from inside the bathroom, that won't change anytime soon.
When he finally gets in, the heat in the bathroom is borderline infernal, but that's not what draws Mydei's attention by far: huddled as far into the corner of the bathtub as he can be, Phainon does his best to appear small. It would be a hard sell for a man that is over 190 cms tall, but the enormous wings trying to hide him from view make it completely impossible.
They're not fluffy, cozy-looking things like one would expect Phainon to have, but Mydei knows instinctively that these suit him. If anything, he's only confused because a part of him expects to see blond hair. He's not entirely sure why, though the pressure that is making itself known in his head may have something to do with it.
At least the distressed, golden eyes match his confusing expectations better.
"I couldn't help it, I'm sorry… your books…" Phainon's face scrunches up in frustration and despair, ancient memories clouding his expression. He tries to look at Mydei, but it seems to be too painful to keep up, so he lowers his gaze. "I didn't want to burn your books again…"
Again…? Silently, Mydei steps closer, reaching a hand out to touch Phainon's wings. They're softer than expected, and fairly hot, but not as alarming as the temperature spike Phainon had before. The large appendages shake, undecided of if they want to flinch away from Mydei's caresses or press into them.
His silence prompts Phainon to launch into stilted, anxious babbling that draws on for longer and longer, and basically amounts to "I'm sorry for being like this, please don't hate me". It's heartbreaking, and endearing, and annoying, and everything else Mydei knows the man he loves is. Wings and likely now-inhuman traits or not, this being of unknown power is still Phainon.
It's still his Phainon.
(Always been my Phainon, a voice that sounds almost like himself echoes in his head.)
Feeling a little faint with the off-putting, increasing pressure in his head, Mydei squeezes next to Phainon inside the bathtub. The wings flutter around him, their poorly-contained joy keeping Mydei in a safe cocoon as memories of long past times slowly trickle into his conscious thoughts. "Is this why you have been so weird lately? You should have told me."
"Mydei?" Phainon uncertainly draws his increasingly lethargic form closer, using his wings as support. He looks worried, as Mydei probably should be at having memories that aren't quite his suddenly flow back. Still, he obeys the blond's nod for him to keep talking. "I just… The reason I'm like this is hard to explain. And long, even if I tried. I already destroyed many things, and I don't have as much control as I'd like. Wouldn't blame you if you're wary of me now…"
On a normal day, Mydei would pay close attention: he knows Phainon's worries are rarely out in the open, and even less frequently can they be easily dissuaded. But he's busy processing the knowledge of a life so far in the past he can't even begin to understand it at the moment. A lot of them are horrific, but the highlights... The highlights have his loved ones, a mismatched group of people with blood as golden as his used to be. The highlights have Phainon's beautiful laugh and the raw strength behind his fists.
"If I never hated you then, I certainly wouldn't now. That's not very fair of you to assume, Deliverer," Mydei mumbles, testing the title (the nickname, if his past self had to be honest) out. It's not quite the same as it sounds in his head: he sounds younger, lighter. The roughness of a life torn by strife is missing, but it still feels right.
Bewilderment shines in Phainon's eyes, now back to their clear blue. Then that emotion morphs into utter devotion, tinted with relief. One of his hands cradle's Mydei's face, and the smile that takes over his face may be the most beautiful one he has gotten to witness in this life. If the blond didn't know Phainon any better, he'd say he's tearing up. "And this is supposed to be fair? You didn't get a concussion to unlock those."
"Extra measures were needed to get through that thick head of yours." Mydei's smile turns gentle at Phainon's whining about him being mean. A part of him feels aching sadness for the man he loved lifetimes ago; the Phainon of old, in any of his forms, would have never been at peace with himself enough to Mydei for his word this easily. The chance to show his Phainon the love and reassurance he always deserved is a chance he won't waste. "How about a bath? For old time's sake."
The idea excites Phainon so much that he forgets the span of his wings, and knocks several bottles of product and their shower curtain in his hurry to hug Mydei close. His apologies are silenced by Mydei's lips, so the mess is definitely worth it. Cleaning up the mess, not so much, but the promise of making out with a naked Mydei is plenty of motivation.
Cipher stares at Mydei as she chews on the end of a pen. "Have you like… tried to die yet? Maybe you're immortal again."
Now that "his brain has been uncorked", as she very tactfully puts it, his friend no longer sees the need to wear her hoodie indoors with him to conceal her huge cat ears. She's still bitter that Castorice's memories haven't awakened yet, probably because of all the lost teasing potential.
From his apartment's dining table, Mydei sees the reaction that little idea has on the reborn Chrysos Heirs in attendance. Anaxa freezes in place, and Aglaea throws back a disappointed stare at Cipher that can only be matched by Hyacine's. Not to mention that Phainon looks on the verge of hyperventilating at the idea. Aglaea would probably double-kill the trickster if he shenanigans resulted in Phainon losing control; getting him to get a hold of his winged transformation had taken forever.
Awkward, Mydei winces and gives one of her ears a soft retaliatory pull. He's millimeters away from having his face clawed bloody for it. "… I'd rather not find out."
Cipher's poor mood after that is only quelled by Tribbie, Trianne and Trinnon telling her she'll win a prize in a few days. The trickster expects it to be cash, but she'll admit that Castorice gaining her memories back after sneezing a tad too hard is a damn good alternative. Them finding out her death touch is not a returning feature is the cherry on top. One that Cyrene takes thorough advantage of, when she has time to visit them all. Hyacine is just happy that her girlfriend gets so much love.