Avyr knew Lily well. He knew the shape of her, the form of her soul. It was inevitable, he couldn’t help but think, when it ca to living with soone— to have been such a close connection with soone over the past few years— that he would have eventually understood her. It was not a thing hindered by the differences between them— and there were differences between them, as inevitable as the tawny fur on his back, or the paws on his feet— for it was sothing borne of seeing. Of knowing, the patterns of things, the way her mood ebbed and flowed with the coming and going of triumph and tragedy.
It was not unusual for her to be… enthusiastic… about whatever project caught her fancy at the mont. She’d been like that with formations to start out with, he knew— it was his judgent that was the very sa impulse that led her, in so way, to her initial devotion to the way of cultivation.
The difference between then and now was that Lily did not often fail. Setbacks, yes— those were common enough for soone who walked such a volatile path, and she had learned to weather those as they’d co. She’d seen her as she learnt to weather those. Yet, failure? This sort of failure, the pernicious and real thing, that coiled its way in around her and scattered all her effort, and left her like this— a morose wreck on the couch, absentmindedly snacking on jerk as she worked on her howork— that was unusual.
She would get over it eventually. Avyr knew that she would— if there was one thing he had great confidence in, it was Lily’s resilience. It was a resilience that continually awed him, whenever he saw it in action. It was so fundantally, so intrinsically her… he was certain that eventually she would move past the failure, and find sothing else that captured her attention so; he didn’t want her to. Standing there, in the corner of the kitchen, looking out of the corner of his eye to where she sat slumped… he wanted her to have the very best. He wanted her to push through this and win, even though it might be impossible—
He wanted to help her. He wanted to be a good friend; he just didn’t know how. So, for a long second he just… stood there, in that not-knowing, ignorance steeping, just…
“Avyr.” His gaze snapped over to Lily, who… she hadn’t shifted from her earlier slump, he would have noticed if she did, but she had focused on him. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling well? You look ill…” she frowned. “Do you actually get sick all that often? I can’t imagine that there’s a lot of human diseases that affect you…
He huffed out a laugh. “I do, occasionally. Most commonly when I eat sothing my body doesn’t agree with, but occasionally I catch so sort of bug or another… it’s been a while since the last ti I had one, given how little I see other cats, but it does happen. I had a nasty disease the year before I moved to East Saffron.”
“Oh.” It was a whisper. “Glad to hear it…” how ironic, his mind could not help but claw to the thought— that Lily was the one who’d noticed his distress first, even despite everything…
Well, in this mont— in this one step, forward, to her, for her, he could borrow a little bit of her boundless resolve. For her, he could simply act— and damn the consequences. He would scatter them before him, so much sand and ash.
He prowled forward, slinking up beside his friend and resting his head against the side of her leg. For a long mont, he just stood there, warm— silent, his companionship the companionship of a friend. A reminder of just what they had in common, the two of them.
There was so much that could have been said in that mont. Neither of them spoke a word.
For a long minute it was just—
Them.
What felt like an interminable ti later, Lily drew in a shuddering breath, slumping further against the couch. “I must be a sorry sight… I didn’t an to make you worry.” Avyr didn’t ask her how she’d figured it out— it was obvious, after all. “I really thought I had it, then… I had it. I had grasped the sand in my hands, and yet the wave ca and took it all away… I don’t know what I can do, Avyr.” Almost plaintive. “What can I do?”
The problem was that he didn’t know either. He wasn’t a formation specialist, and they both knew it. He had so minor expertise in the art of herbalism— not a great bit, but enough to gain recognition for his skills in the class— but he certainly wasn’t the sort of generational talent that Lily was. Not even in his greatest field, much less formations.
He had a sinking feeling, though, that whatever Lily was doing… whatever was pressing her to devote the whole of herself to accomplishing it, whatever would make her trawl the depths of the library and sever her very spirit just for the chance at seeing it done… He had the suspicion that whatever it was, it was for him. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel.
What could he do, what level of wonder, what gift, what effort, what love could he give to match a friend who would sacrifice themselves for him so? The last ti he’d felt so helpless, so soul-deep touched, he…
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Well, the mory of his parents’ last, desperate fight was still burned fiercely into his mory.
Ultimately, though, all he could offer was to just be there, silently supportive.
Ultimately, that seed like it almost might even be enough.
………
Avyr stood in front of his torch ginger. It was not a subtle thing, compared to the other spiritual plants that were being cultivated by his fellow students— its stalk shot straight upward taller than he was, unfurling into a brilliant, showy flower that looked richer than most cuts of finely marbled at. To his less physical senses, it shone with a brilliant, bloody qi… which should have, if his efforts had borne fruit, been a deep, almost icy yin. Instead, it was just a powerful blood-aligned treasure.
That wasn’t bad. Compared to so of the lackluster or even dead plants of his fellow classmates, it was clearly leaps and bounds ahead. It wasn’t the complete transformation that he’d wanted, but it was still the best plant in the greenhouse— even including the fragrant golden spiritual daisy that their instructor had grown.
It was not a formation that could upturn fate and change the course of a life, though, and in comparison to the sort of thing that Lily pulled out daily…
He sighed. It was no use comparing himself to others. He was himself, and that was that. He was content with that; he did not want to be Lily, he just… wished he could support her better.
Well, no point in waiting. He grabbed his pot— awkwardly, as these things tended to go— and half carried, half dragged it up to the center of the room. Their instructor— a portly sort of woman who Avyr could only describe as kind cooed over each plant in turn… though Avyr couldn’t help but think that she was extra interested in her plants. “Everyone did a good job. Just because your plants didn’t take well doesn’t an that you didn’t do well! Sotis these things just happen.” So took a bit of reassurance from that, clearly; so knew where they stood, and didn’t allow themselves to get false hope.
Avyr was the best of them, and so he did neither; he knew that he’d won. It was only ever more and more clear— without the Song clan scions present, he and Lily were the best cultivators of their cohort.
The instructor went past each pot, inspecting them cursorily before shooing everyone back. “Good, good… today we’re going to be talking briefly about the mycorrhizal associations of spirit herbs and spiritually charged fungi— or even whole spiritually charged fungi— which you’ll soon find can be rather critical to high level growth…” he already knew about that. In fact, he tended to already know about most of what she taught, having learnt it from his parents, or from the library, or so other source…
It did not an that the lecture wasn’t valuable. Rather, he focused as the instructor showed them the techniques that would allow them to gently modify the interrelation between different soil-elents and their plants, and all the complicated science that went into it… and yet further still, the elent so very spiritual; holding still the mystery of qi and of the transformation of the myriad things, and of the secret and profound. That, he found himself enjoying most of all.
It was a rather productive lesson, ultimately, and he found himself in a good mood as he returned ho. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and spring seed to have taken a particular interest in their courtyard today, bidding a late-blossoming plum tree to a sudden and splendorous bloom. It really was a wonder to see, he couldn’t deny. The scent of blossoms on the wind…
Lily was standing in the courtyard when he arrived, staring up at the tree, absent in that way he’d co to associate with her ditation. Perhaps she was sensing sothing— or perhaps she was rely taking in the natural qi of the world. Either or, he was just glad she was feeling better.
She smiled the mont he entered, though she did not look his way. Clearly, she could see him regardless. “It’s happy to see you.” He blinked, cocking his head at her— which finally got her to giggle and turn to face him. “Sorry, I just had to… you know, all cool and cultivator-like. Very cryptic.” She raised a hand, pointing at… the tree. He squinted, pushing forth his aura and trying to sense what she was talking about— only to flick his tail in surprise as a different sensation reached back. It was a quiet and gentle sense, the quiescent and quickened presence of a nascent spiritual herb, turning to him as plants turned to the sun. Pleased, he flicked a bit of his qi out of aura with its next rotation, sending it up to the plant, which greedily sucked it up.
Slowly, it began to transform— a gentle thing, an almost imperceptible thing, but he’s spent enough ti looking for the sa sort of change in his torch ginger— at least before the university had ruined it— that he could see the subtle essence of it swirl and transform.
Lily could clearly see it too, as she smiled as she looked up at it. “I wonder what they’re going to be like when they grow up. It’s a really weak spiritual fruit…” but the fact that a spiritual fruit had managed to grow in East Saffron at all was a worthy marvel. Besides, whatever ca of it, they would not be there to see it blossom into the fullness of its power. That would be for whoever managed to secure the house after them…
He liked that, that scattered continuity… “golden, I imagine. It has supped on the qi of radiant sunlight, and that will change it. To what form…” even he could not know; his comprehension was not yet deep enough, his understanding of the natural world not yet complete enough. Yet, it did not need to be complete in order to appreciate the marvelous mystery of it. “A treasure, from us to whoever finds it.”
“I like the sound of that. Of the connection…”
“There really is a connection between all things, no?” It was just a passing statent, but Lily’s eyes widened as she heard it, a brief little gasp of surprise passing over her. Struck, just for a mont, stunned by sothing only she knew.
Then, she laughed.
She laughed, her peculiar human laugh, so different from his own and yet able, nevertheless, to evoke within him a suffusing warmth as she grinned and turned her face up to heaven, and laughed. Her hair spilled back behind her, catching— the sunlight raced to leap into the wavy curls of her hair, splashing off her skin and trickling into the gentle curve of her eyes, jubilant and rendered in that single mont so utterly golden—
A divinity, caught in freedom; the spirit of so immortal, descended to earth; blessing, connection— he could not know. Yet he felt it nonetheless, in so core of himself deeper even that cultivation, where emotion stirred the deep of his soul. “That… oh, it all makes so much sense now.” She spun to him suddenly, pulling him into an impromptu embrace. “Thank you! Thank you so much, thank you—”
He could not but be happy.
Springti was a ti of joy indeed.
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