Archive of Our Own

It starts with Taimi and Gorrik's developing relationship, pirates in the sky, crash landing into a foreign land, and his third imprisonment. 

Vymio places a hand on his face, feeling the loss of his mask keenly as Gorrik politely rants to the floor. He tunes out the anxiety ridden prison rants of Gorrik, who is most definitely as feral as Orvym used to be before he wore his anger as a cloak. He chest aches at the thought of his twin but he shakes it off. 

He has a prison to escape.

Unfortunately, the doors unlocked the moment he was a bit too close to the lock.. He hid the click of his tongue, he'll do better next time. If there even will be a next time.

He ignores the way his mind hisses his need to be better, faster, cleverer-

He distracts himself with the sight of their warden, a man with eyebags and a warm voice, the hint of dry humor dancing with the quirk on his lips. He says his name is Rama, and what a pretty name it is. It's clear that Gorrik had warned him off peeking at his face when the man makes an effort not to look at him at all. 

The thought of Gorrik telling off this man for looking at his face makes him feel warm. 

Still, he's pretty sure this man had seen it already so he may as well go along with it. He bends down, not even bothering to twist the shadows to hide his face. As he views the form, a sense of confusion fills him. He… honestly never thought too deeply about this. Never has he ever had to fill in a form like this before.

Everyone knew his face, or rather his mask, after all he had done. They all immediately deferred to him. They salute when he passes, listen to his orders, and in the case of Bangar, try to undermine him. The question of his name, how old he is, has never been so plainly put before like this slip of paper has done.

Existential crisis aside, Vymio fills in the form with relative ease. Besides, his gaze flicks up at the awkward detective, whose gaze has once again hastily diverted away from his face, he has something to play with. Even if it's this detective, the chance to tease him is enough to center him in this unfamiliar situation. 

The need to grapple with his situation squeezes him, makes his eyes flash, sly and dangerous, a predator lying in wait. How long before you self-destruct? How long before you carve into yourself like the world you carved out of the bodies and bones of others?

He slides up to the man, eyes sharp and hooded, he smiles in a way that emphasizes his more delicate features, his accent lilting as he speaks in a hushed whisper.

"You know, you’re now one of the few people in the world who has seen my face. I hope you don’t kiss and tell." 

They make eye contact and Vymio files away the knowledge that the detective has dark brown eyes that look black in the distance. It's useless information but he files it anyway alongside his snark, his awkward behavior, and the way said eyes trail after him as he casually strips off his prison clothes. The man is probably wary of him, which he has every right to be. 

Killer. Murderer. Failure.

As he clips on his bird mask, a sense of ease settles within him. The tension within him loosens further as he holsters his gun and his dagger before reverently handling Stardust, keeping the bow on his back. His cape hides it from view, and he stands tall, finally at ease. The sight of him seems to hearten Gorrik as well as the Asura perks up, ears flopping as he allows himself to gaze at him in the eye.

Fully settled, he grows serious, the mischief in his eyes fading as he catalogs the room, mind already clocking exits and escape routes, making note of any staff he sees along the way. Vymio is led out, snarking back at the detective, teasing to hide the still tension he has from a distinct lack of Aurene and the pervading sense of wrong. It's always like this. He thinks he has a break and then the world begins to crack again. 

His thoughts stop as he takes in the sight of Cantha. 

"Beautiful." He gasps.

It is beautiful, even the plants sing around him, a peace and calmness he thought only possible in the Grove. The only thing it needs is the song of the Dream. But that's fine, that's more than fine because it's not the Grove and there are no memories to haunt his every step. This place is fresh, and new, and completely sleepy in its peace. 

And that's beautiful.

He takes note when the detective is called away by a Minister Li. Whether the man is friend or foe has yet to be seen, he narrows his eyes, but turns back to the sight of idyllic Canthan countryside. 

Vymio has a world to stop from breaking.

Again.

Exasperated is the only thing Vymio can describe as he indulges the Canthan bureaucracy for lack of a better word. No one seems to truly understand what it is he's done. So he plays their little training exercises, bored. The shadows flicker as he dances around their instructors, before with a sigh, he turns on the mech and whacks it once, twice, thrice, before it deems it satisfactory. 

They still do not see the danger he poses.

They will learn in time.

They always do.

That detective most definitely is compiling a file on him. He wonders what's on it, 'Mental Instability' perhaps? 'Dangerous: Flee on Sight'? Will he be treated as a savior, a monster, or a ticking time bomb? Or will that detective still take the time to look away politely if he took off his mask?

Hearing the detective in his ear startles him more than he admits. His heart flutters as his glow brightens, the sound of the man's sultry voice so close to his ear feels… flustering. His voice is cocky, mocking, and the burn of sap on his cheeks could almost be mistaken for indignant anger if not for who the speaker is. 

The current events pushed any thoughts of that charmingly awkward detective out of his mind. But now, every moment he had thought he was by himself meant he was muttering to a tapped and hacked into open line. He guided Apocrypha into a dive before bringing her up, scaling the winds to weave through the Seitung Province Monastery. Did the detective hear his every song? Did he like it? 

He sighed before realizing that the detective would have heard that too. 

Unbidden, he wondered if he'll continue as is even knowing he will listen, perhaps because he will listen? He huffs, derailing that rail of thought as he focuses on his task at hand. At least the man let him poke around the documents. He twitched, fingers itching to read what little he has access to. Knowledge is power. Especially when they are secrets.

A smile grew on his face as he began humming once more.

It's time to read the unreadable.

Vymio arrives at the sushi bar dead on his feet and on guard. The shadows lick at his feet as he steadies himself. He pets Shadow on the neck, the skyscale crooning at him in worry. He shakes his head at her. 

"Take to the skies, we may need a hasty retreat later." 

Shadow bows in acknowledgement and takes to the skies with ease, large wings flapping as she rises higher and higher before clinging to a wall and scaling it that way. The invisibility device from the Icebrood campaign helps with her ascent. 

Flicking his cloak, he walks up and joins Navan and Rama. Curious and curiouser, he muses as he takes in the scene. Rama looks at him with interest, not wariness nor weariness. Navan looks elegant, back straight, expression poised and placid like a deceptively shallow lake. 

Time for your pretty words, Vymio. He ushers the shadows away, and strolls up, summoning every bit of diplomacy he had in him. 

"Commander." Rama greets, the title falling from his lips with ease.

He says it like it's something breathtaking, as though he is worthy of admiration yet still grounded into reality. The thought frightens him. It's scary because he wants to hear his title said like that again and again. A fervent wish to hear it spoken not like a prayer or a desperation, but as something proud yet mortal.

He wants to hear it said like that again because the last one to do so is a dead man. Marshal Trahearne always said their title with grace. And then he died and his twin grew distant before returning to the dream, leaving Commander to refer to one instead of two.

He nods his head in greeting, scanning the menu as Navan speaks, eyes lingering on certains items before settling on the shrimp salad. He never has time to settle properly, no doubt they'll have some kind of interruption. The Charr Celebrations in Grothmar come to mind. Same goes for the party in Amnoon. 

Vymio leans forward, eyes gazing at Rama as he begins to make his case. The speech he had planned goes out the moment he makes eye contact with Rama. His words changed to become more honest, a plea instead of the compelling argument he had prepared.

It's strange how affected he is by this charming and awkward man.

Then Captain Fa appears, and suddenly he has no qualms weaponizing his words. He stalks, shadows flickering as his glow dims and brightens, following the calm of his breath. He lets Captain Fa stand for a bit. He wants the man to sweat. Besides, it would be a waste of a good prawn salad, if he didn't eat it. So he lifts up the beak of his mask, the metal clicking softly as he takes the time to eat a bit of it before sliding it back into place. He turns, moving to speak with Navan, and confer the information with Rama. 

Now armed, he begins.

He's been told before that he's terrifying when he's hunting. His eyes are silver and cat-like, and when he plies people with his words, he is likened to a demon, seductive and whispering in the ear of his victim. It is… not the compliment people think it to be. 

But it suits him all the best, he supposed. 

Captain Fa falls for it as Vymio relaxes, becoming the confident and friendly leader he is seen as. His words curl and sink and it’s so easy when Captain Fa is an open book. His tells shine brighter than the neon signs, and he folds to every word. He bares his teeth beneath his mask, as though sinking his teeth into Captain Fa’s flesh with every word.

"I can only ask that you consider my words and judge for yourself." He demurred, and Captain Fa flushed as he let him go.

It's good to know even Canthans aren't immune to the Sylvari beauty. Vymio thinks as he flutters his eyes and waves goodbye, still in character until he's sure they're safe. 

Then he turns around and finds Rama giving him a look of determination. He pauses, relaxing at the sight. After that display, Navan was giving his considering looks and if it were Gorrik, he would be terrified. But Rama simply looked at him with his heart on his sleeve, his decision plain before he even spoke the words.

Refreshing. Vymio thinks as his eyes linger on Rama a touch too long.

Arbostone sings to him in ancient verses. The moss that lines the hallowed halls of stone and stained glass whisper of a time long ago, of war and peace and love beneath the stone arches. They sing many things, eager to tell him, a headache surges forward at the whispering but they silence themselves with a hush as he crawls closer to the void. 

There are signs of life and signs of something greater still. His eye acts up for a moment, just a singular moment, and he hides the hiss of pain beneath the ramblings of Gorrik and the deductions of Marjory. Vymio frowned beneath his mask, glowering at the arrival of that Saltspray shade. 

His pistol and dagger are in his hands immediately and he thrives in the hunt. The battle sets him at ease as he dances, pulling at the seams of the Saltspray's torment and weaves himself through shadow and void. He ducks until he's close enough to smack it with a pistol whip, shadow stepping away and shooting at it the moment he does so.

A part of him revels in the combat, welcomes it because this is where he's most useful. His words are a weapon but so is he. He is the hero of Tyria, whose entire life has been centered around pointing him towards the newest and largest threat.

He is the Champion. The Commander. The Valiant.

The Weapon of Tyria. 

When the Saltspray is beaten to submission and Navan is revealed, he checks on everyone and hopes that when Rama's eyes linger upon him, it is out of something aside from fear. Later on, after meeting the Tengu and a cheery Keeri, he pauses in his sweep of Arbostone. He tilts his head, hiding in the shadows as he listens to Rama hesitantly ask Marjory for a date.

She declines of course and Rama backs down immediately.

He turns away. 

He ignores the way his heart has twisted. The disappointment that floods him because of course Rama, a human, would prefer another human rather than someone- no, something like him.

"I can't believe those Sylvari! Stabbing us in the back!"

Vymio grits his teeth, ignoring the pounding in his head. Either from Mordremoth or the damn situation with the entire fleet stranded in a jungle that wants them dead, he's not sure. He can feel the gazes of the Vigil.

They are watching.

Vymio sighs and marches into Echovald. Hopefully the foreign forest will prove itself to be a new flavor of messed up. Aberrant Forest comes to mind, the freshest memories of crazed mutterings and a starving Kodan makes his throat close up. 

“Your voice is not your own…”

He let out a hiss, lifting a hand to his head. 

Stop. He chastised himself.

“Commander?” Rama’s voice came up to him.

He lifted his head up, startled, his leaves bristling upwards as he spins around, black wisps of smoke curling around his feet in an aborted shadowstep. With a deep breath, he nods his head at him.

“Rama.” He greets, eyes sharp as he scans the man for any sign of trouble. “Is something the matter?”

“What-? Uh, no, I was just worried. You look like you need a break.” Rama replies, hands lifting up as he gestured at him. “If you want, you can rest with me. I uh, found a room that’s pretty quiet.”

Vymio pushes aside the paranoia, because Rama is an ally and he has nothing to gain from attempting to hurt him. He nods his head in agreement. 

"Show me." He says before remembering himself and adding, "Please." 

Rama leads him up the stairs, down hallways to a room full of stained glass murals. Curious, Vymio crane his head to take in as much as possible. The light filters through them, leaving colors to dance on the stone floor.

The Kurzwicks sure knew what they were doing when it came to aesthetics.

"Tell me more about the Kurzwicks and the Luxons," Vymio asked, if only to get rid of the memories with something new.

Rama talks. He talks openly, his passion for the history of his family shining through. His voice echoes through the walls yet lingers in his mind in a way that makes him feel comforted. The sincerity in his voice smooths down the anxiety and the paranoia that tells him to shoot first and ask later.

As they pass by a patch of sunlight, Vymio's breath is taken away.

The sunlight shines on his light tan skin, making him look golden. His eyes were gazing out at the forest, and all Vymio could do was stare at him. Stained glass kissed his cheeks purple and red, the corner of his willow leaf shaped eye touched with a hint of blue, and Vymio…

Vymio wanted to reach out and chase after those colored lights. 

"I never thought I would lay my eyes on such a solid part of the Kurzwick history." Rama confessed, sunlight gentle against his exposed neck. "It's a wonder to be here, is all. I feel overwhelmed, my ancestors did this. They made this. What did I do?"

"The right thing." Vymio replies, forcing himself to look out at the forest instead of tracing Rama's features. "Legacy is a heavy burden. And while tales of great heroes drive us forward, it is the support of those who do the simple and mundane that keeps us sane. People like you and Ayumi may seem humble but your work helps more people than you see."

Rama turned to him, eyebrows raising upwards as he placed a hand over his nape, rubbing it. His cheeks are glowing with the flush of embarrassment. It blends well with the sunlight and the stained glass.

"I- Uh, thank you, Commander. I will keep that in mind."

Vymio chuckles, ignoring the ache in his chest from being called his title. He is a figurehead first and foremost and a Sylvari second. He belongs to Tyria, and for Tyria. His eyes flick towards the tall forest. Vymio had spent most of his life as ‘Commander’ in order for the world to thrive. At this point, has he always truly belonged to himself from day one? 

Taking a deep breath, he turns to Rama, shaking his head subtly to dislodge the thoughts of his existence.

"Thank you for telling me about the history of this place, and for showing me around. I'll see you in a bit." He waves and then proceeds to backflip off the edge.

Rama rushes forward. "Commander?!"

A roar echoes as Shadow catches him. With a laugh, he rises up and waves at Rama once more. The man had stumbled to look over the edge, his hat slightly askew. As Vymio slowly rose up in Shadow, Rama sighed and fixed his hat.

"Happy hunting, Commander." 

"It's a good day to return to the dream." Vymio hums and goes off to continue saving the world.

Vymio drops into Rama's office, the need to be far away from everything but the necessity of being close at hand driving him to the man's location. It was practical. Or so he told himself, as he stalked to the room, his glow shining against the stone and stained glass. 

He knocked on the door.

"Come in!"

Opening the door, Vymio enters, taking in the sight of Rama pouring over paperwork. Canthan bureaucracy truly never sleeps. The man looks… stressed, so Vymio walks closer, making sure the door is closed out of courtesy. 

"How are you holding up, Rama?" 

Rama looks up, his hat tilting as he gives a wry smile. It's awkward and more sincere than any smile he has seen in a long time. He finds himself relaxing at the sight. 

"I'm fine, if you ignore the World Ending Events." 

Vymio threw his head back and laughed. It was a small, breathless thing, but he needed that. It's been so long since he did. So long since he met someone so honest and sincere when the most sincere he has gotten was the other side wanting to see him dead or enslaved. 

"You get used to it if you decide to stick with me," He ruffles his hair, the leaves that make up the front of his fringe bouncing a bit. 

Rama replies, hand waving over his table, "With the stuff on your file, I'd be shocked if you're not used to it."

Amused, Vymio finds himself poking, prodding, "Oh? Out of curiosity, what exactly is on my file?"

What has kept you from running away from me? What is in it that makes you compelled to stay with someone who will see you dead? Why do you still act so sincere to me?

"I have it on me, if you want to see it?"

And so here they are, Vymio sitting beside the detective like they were looking over a important report instead of his file. Vymio scans it, notes the dates of events from the perspective of an outsider. 

His twin's name is there, along with the birth and death date, his chest tightens at the sight but he moves on. Instead he focuses on the lack of information, including his name. 

It bothers him for some reason. The thought that he knows Rama's name, but the man doesn't know his. It's unfair to him. So he points it out, says his name and tries to ignore the way it feels like he's giving his heart away.

"First of all, my name is Vymio. I just sign things as the Commander because I like keeping my privacy." 

I'm telling you because I want you to know me as I am instead of the symbol I represent. I want you to look at me and see me. I want you to say my name, and know that it is me. 

His sap is thrumming beneath his bark, pulsing bright and loud. Vymio averts his eyes, gazes at the stained glass, wonders if he made it awkward by revealing his true name.

"Vymio." Rama breathes out, his name curling like a vine on a branch, soft and gentle like a cloud.

"Yes?" 

“It's a pretty name.” Rama says and Vymio flushes.

His name was simply that, a whisper in the wind. Made and molded to be whispered alongside his twin’s name, Orvym. They share a syllable, and it ties them together. No one had really commented on it before, it simply was.

And yet Rama made his very existence sound like more than a necessity, as though he was more than an extra. Like he was more than the role he was born to take.

It humbled him and filled him with a sense of being seen. Something he hasn't felt since he lost his twin. He shuffles, voice going soft as he thanks the other man. He adjusta how he sits, curling up against the arm of the couch to flip through the file. 

“What else is it missing?” Rama asks, and the man is close. Painfully close, it makes Vymio tense.

His arm is stretched against the back of the chair as he leans in close. The scent of moss, bamboo, and paper filled his senses. He could smell ink from the stain that's rubbed onto his chin, though he's certain Rama isn't aware of that stain. 

“Let's see, my Order before the Pact was created. It’s not against the rules but we don’t really advertise it.” He looks up, into the gaze of Rama.

His gaze is heavy as he asks, all gentle-like. “That's interesting, what Order were you in?’

Silence made the atmosphere quiet. Here they were in ancient stone that once saw many things and now it would hear more secrets, from more figures of history. He could feel his heart hammering away at him. The heavy implication of ‘Will you trust me?’ thick in the air of the ancient hall, like a human priest awaiting a confession from a penitent sinner. Their faces are close. Awfully, viscerally, close to one another that Rama could steal away a kiss from his mask. 

Finally, he speaks. “Whispers.” 

Rama's eyes shine with the knowledge, hanging onto his every word. It was like the sun gazing down at him in Amnoon. Like it was searing his soul, learning without judgment his every sin and sacrifice. 

Vymio couldn't take it. 

He looked away. His gaze falling onto the file once more.

“The Order of Whispers. My Mentor was Tybalt Leftpaw. He… gave his life so that the rest of us would live.”

“Ah.” Rama replies, accepting and understanding so painfully understanding. “i’m sure he's proud of you.”

He says this with such conviction, Vymio could be persuaded. Is this what belief felt like? Belief in the words of someone else has never been so breathtaking before. It feels like penance. It feels like redemption. It feels like…

Like being seen for the first time in years.

“...Thank you.”

Rama smiles at him. It's a small one yet so certain as he shifts the topic away towards his various prison related escapades. Vymio is grateful for the change in topic, latches onto it like a man fighting the wind. He regales him about the tales of how he escaped prison, something he probably shouldn't say to someone who stays on the other side of the cell, but he has good enough humor to laugh along. 

“Do you remember things based on who saw your face?”

“No, well, actually, maybe. After all, very few people have ever seen my face before.” He laughs, his hand drifting over to his mask. “It’s just- It makes me feel vulnerable, not wearing it.” 

Vymio used to wear it to hide himself, to keep his identity better hidden for spywork. Then, he used it because it hid him from the judging gazes of their soldiers back in Maguuma. Every sequence after that, it became a symbol, to separate him as a person from him as the Commander.

It makes things easier.

Rama's hand drifts upward, fingers grazing against the brim of his large hat. “I feel the same way with my hat.” 

He blinks, and a part of him is touched. His heart practically melts as he understands the admission as it is: a share of vulnerability. “‘Great minds think alike’, I think that’s appropriate here.”

Rama opens his mouth only to be cut off by his radio. Vymio twitches, slightly annoyed by the interruption. Giving Rama a lingering glance, he apologizes.

“Sorry, I have to go.” 

Rama nods in understanding. “I understand. Go on, do your Commander-y things, Vymio. I’ll be here if you need me.”

He stands up, recentering himself as his mind turns towards whatever problem there may be. Before he leaves though, he gives the door a quick glance and takes off his mask. He flashes Rama a quick smile. A part of him flashes with mild annoyance at his height, as he goes up on his tip toes and leans in close.

“Thank you.”

Then, he puts his mask back on and withdraws, flying through the door, as if he were in a rush instead fleeing from his embarrassment. Sap racing through as he tried to quell the telling glow, his face flushed beneath his mask.

Why did I do that? What am I doing? Focus! The world is trying to break again, don't be foolish!

The moss and the vines sing to him some kind of Canthan poetry. If you are somewhere, smile at me, with your eyes only at me.

Somehow, between all the problems, between Arbostone and New Kaineng, the detective became Rama, and then Rama became Rama. He likes saying the man's name. It's simple, sweet, and honest, just like the man himself. 

Like a moth to a flame, he finds himself drifting to Rama. With Arborstone as a hub of some sort, Vymio had grown active. He returns, if only to visit him. And every time, his heart feels light. His mask placed on the table, always joined by Rama’s hat, a silent concession of equal vulnerability between them. He brings with him tidbits of his adventures as though it were a consolation, an apology for intruding on the man’s space. Rama listens aptly, fascinated by his words. 

“There was a leviathan in New Kaineng’s waters, did you know that? It was large! The bloody thing tried to eat me when I went to kill it.”

“The heights of New Kaineng are gorgeous, have you ever seen it? The fluorescent lights stand out against the fog. The sight of it is enough to steal my breath as though it were fuel for the distant colors.”

Of course, not all visits are happy. He arrives one time, battered after dealing with the different gangs in Echovald, eyes wild and searching every corner of the room. The shadows flickered. He could see Rama’s eyes grow wide and the man scrambling to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice soft. 

“I…” He forced out, and it was enough. 

Rama led him to sit on the couch that was now a permanent feature of the makeshift office. Then, he sat down beside him and began talking. 

“My mother was the one who taught me how to make persimmon tea. We rarely had it because of how hard it was to get persimmons in New Kaineng. But whenever we did, it was always a great day for me.” Rama said, leaning on the couch. “Sometimes I would invite Min’s family and she would bring snacks to go with the tea. Both our families would spend time drinking tea and talking.”

Vymio nodded, eyes shining but still he remained quiet. So Rama kept going, his arms waving around as he described his childhood. He painted a picture of warmth and simplicity, the worries a human child would normally have. It fascinated him greatly since he didn't have a childhood, unless one counted the Campaign against Zhaitan when he and his twin had newly bloomed. 

There's few words to describe the moments together in that office. Like putting name to the nameless and thought to the formless, there's a fragile intangibility to the moments they hold together.

It's gentle. It's comfortable. It's a safe haven.

It will not last. Nothing gold ever stays. Nothing good ever lingers. All will succumb to the misfortune you bring, Weapon of Tyria, Commander of Fates, Godkiller, Dragonslayer.

Murderer.

He pushes those thoughts away. It's dangerous to have those thoughts while flying a griffon. Apocrypha cried out as he urged her up, her wings stretching as he maintained speed. His eyes tracked the forest. He urged her on, diving through a hole and coming out of it in a whirl of speed.

The stained glass sparkled in the corner of his eye and he grinned. All unpleasant thoughts left as he urged her to Arborstone. He had met the village of Tengu and was now hoping to work on the gang wars within Echovald.

But for now… His eyes fell on the haven that was Arborstone. For now, Rama.

He laughed, breathless, as he leaned on the couch narrating his flying endeavours in Echovald when Rama said to him, his voice gently cradling a hint of wonder, “You speak pretty.”

“Thank you…” he says, heart hammering in his chest, “I used to do poetry.”

“Poetry, eh? Why'd you stop?” Rama asks with a gentle smile.

His own smile falls away as he looks up at the ceiling. His voice is fragile as he echoes, “...Why did I stop, I wonder.” He sighs, speaking his thoughts out loud.

He had stopped when Maguuma became too much for him. When he struggled to form words with Mordremoth breathing down his neck, he stopped because his writings stopped becoming his own and started becoming the words of Mordremoth. His mind heavy. His words weak. Grappling for a voice, help me help me help me- 

“You… can always start again, you know?” 

Rama slings an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to him in their place on the couch. He looks at him startled, his eyes wide. People rarely touch him, let alone hold him so close. He’s… He doesn’t know what he’s feeling but he knows that he craves more. The last one to touch him so frequently was his twin brother. 

And yet there’s more. More because Rama is looking at him with such warmth. He’s gazing down at Vymio like he isn’t a broken shamble of shadows stitched together to form a Sylvari. Looking at those eyes, he finds himself reminded of an inviting cup of black tea, poured into a cup. 

It’s then that he registers what Rama said.

He never entertained the thought. He never bothered to think of it because his poetry was often accompanied by the art of his twin. His whispered words would be joined with his twin’s painted pictures, one always with the other. There was a sense of missing but perhaps… Perhaps he can try again. Maybe he can start… doing what made him happy before this.

“Yeah…” He breathed out, mulling it over his head. “I think I want to start doing poetry again. When all this is done, I'll take a break, be a poet, see how that works." 

The more he thought about it the more he found himself liking the idea. The tension in his shoulders ease, like a little boulder sitting in his chest has eroded to give way to… something that almost reminds him of the warmth he got from sunlight. He smiles, soft, faint, and it feels foreign to smile like this. To smile without anxiety thrumming in his head, pulsing in his sap, and clawing his heart was new, but not unwelcome.

If this is what simple hope feels like, then he wants to savour it while it lasts.

The silence lingers. It is as gentle as the mist over New Kaineng’s waters. They're shoulder to shoulder, and Vymio’s content. Isn't that something? The world is practically tearing itself apart at the seams, and before this moment, he would have been ripping himself into pieces with guilt and shame before he would have let himself sit and relax. 

And yet, in this moment, he felt content.

“So…” Rama says, breaking the silence, his shoulder pressing against Vymio's. “Have you figured out a name for your bot?”

The question eases Vymio's mind, soothes him in a way that he doesn't quite understand but appreciates anyway. With a laugh, he said, "Pale Tree, that's right! I haven't yet, I'm still conflicted on the theme.”

They argue over names, and Vymio laughs as he drinks in Rama's incredulous voice trying to explain to him that the way he pronounces ‘Yu’ sounds more like ‘Fish’ than it does ‘Jade’, so ‘Xiao Yu’ would just be ‘Small Fish'. Rama’s joking imagery of making his bot fish shape is only met with a shake of his head. 

“My mount eats fish, Rama! Shadow would eat the bot by accident.” Vymio snorts. “Come on, there has to be some sort of nice Canthan word I can use.”

“Well, what themes do you even have in mind?” Rama nudges him on the shoulder, his gaze genuine, too sincere to not be genuine. 

Vymio tilted his head. “I named all my mounts after stars. Does that help? Constellations and stars.”

“What about ‘Su’ from ‘Weh no Su’?”

Weh no Su. Closer to the stars.

Vymio tilts his head in thought. It's a bit of a literal name with his star and constellation themes but it's still sweet to the ears. 

“Su. Su. Su.” Vymio said, sounding out the name, mouth pursing his lips together. It sounds pleasant, certainly, and it's short and sweet, matching the adorable image of his jade bot. 

While he does settle on it, he feels the urge to tease Rama, and so he does. 

A wicked grin stretches across his face, “Hmm, maybe. I'll think about it. If all else fails, I'll just name it after you.”

Rama gasps in mock offense, “If you name it after me, I'm going to name our latest mech 'Poohbah'!”

“You wouldn't!” Vymio exclaims, leaning closer to Rama, a barely hidden smile on his face as he laughs.

“Try me.” Rama grins at Vymio and he grins back.

Ask and you shall receive.

They scuffle. It's a flurry of laughter and cloth, and somehow they stumble off the couch and onto the floor. Vymio holds himself back, careful even in his playfight to poke and prod at Rama, not wanting to actually hurt the man. His cheeks are aching from how much he's laughing, the sounds of their joy echoing through the office, reverberating around the stone room.

Vymio pins Rama down, his eyes glinting as he grinned in his victory. “Got you.”

His clever fingers begin searching for a tickle spot, lightly brushing against Rama's sides and he tries to quell the fact he's noting down Rama's build by doing this. One rib, two ribs… 

Rama’s got large pecs… 

In his distraction, Rama flips them and he blinks owlishly, reorienting himself. His back is on the floor, his legs splayed slightly, knees up. Rama has his hands held above his head and Vymio looks up, squirming to get out of Rama’s grasp but also unwilling to hurt the man. 

The atmosphere changes because suddenly he feels his sap flowing his cheeks, his bark glowing a bright white. He's suddenly all too aware of himself and of Rama, who's looking down at him with wide eyes and lips parted. 

His lips are a lot fuller than I thought…

Idly, Vymio wonders what Rama would do were he to bite those full lips. Rama leans down and for a moment he thought they would kiss. Rama’s face is close. So close he could see the flecks of brown in those dark eyes. He can see the way those willow leaf eyes are sloped and shaped. His breath halts. Rama breathes in. They stay like that, the atmosphere heavy as their breaths mingle together, an unspoken heat arising between them, Vymio looking up at Rama, waiting, wanting, needing-

Rama jolts up. Vymio watches as he scrambles away and he tries his best not to let the ache of disappointment sting too much.

“Hello?” Vymio crouches in front of Rama, waving his hand. “Tyria to Rama?”

Rama blinks, obviously disoriented, his cheeks flushed. “Uhhh, I just remembered I have to file some paperwork. I'll have to go.”

He raised an eyebrow. "Alright, sure… If you say so."

And with that, Vymio watched as Rama fled, the sting of disappointment engulfing him as he let out a shuddering breath and collapsed onto the stone. His gaze looking up at the ceiling blankly. He rested a hand over his forehead and closed his eyes. It was as though his breath had left him and now all he was left with was the sensation of a hollow, bitter sting. 

Of course he would run. Vymio thought to himself. Who wouldn’t want to run from him? Everyone he loved was always damned to a cruel fate. 

Is this why Canach ran? His mind wanders, rubbing salt in the already open wound. Everyone you love leaves eventually. Look at Canach. He left you. Look at Trahearne, he perished. Look at your twin, he’s dead and all of it, all of it is because of you. 

He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the ache of his spiraling thoughts. He tried to ignore it. Tried to push it away, push it down, because he’s the Commander and he cannot, must not, break. 

No one loves you genuinely. Your so-called friends use you because you are and have always been a tool. A convenience. A means to an end. 

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. He tried to think of something else. 

Oh, right… There’s the end of the world thing, yes that would be a good distraction. 

After that, he makes himself busy. It’s childish, he knew. Instead of confronting whatever was going on between him and Rama, he drowns himself in the work of being the Commander. Save a village, fight a leviathan, the hum and thrum of life as the Commander taking up his time in a way that made him conveniently busy. He finds even more ways to keep busy until he ends up being forced to finally look for an airship and brings Rama along. 

He perks up the moment he hears that achingly familiar voice. “Canach!”

The last time he saw Canach, they were standing over the spine of Kralkatorrik and surrounded by the familiar sounds of war. No, wait, that was the last time he had properly spent time with Canach. The actual last time he saw Canach was nothing more than a quick and bitter taste. A touch and go when things had begun to boil over with the Icebrood in Caledon forest. He can’t help but drink in the snazzy suit. The red and white so stark a difference from the armor Canach wore. 

Canach looks… Happy. 

The thought aches, but Vymio shoves aside the ache with practice, instead going up to Canach with a bright smile. They chat, catch up for a while and Vymio waves Rama closer, if only because he can see the detective lingering in the edges, looking for all intents and purposes like an outsider to this impromptu reunion. So he decides to smooth things over.

“Rama!” Vymio called out, watching as the other man approached with caution in his steps. “Let me introduce you. This is Canach, and this is Sayida.”

Sayida looks at him, then at Canach, nodding her head at Rama politely before looking at him again. There’s a twist to her lips, her brows furrowing as she shakes her head minutely. “Commander, whatever this is, I'm not getting into it.”

With that, she turns away to do her work on the airship. He snorts at this, waving his hand as he watches her leave. She always did have a good head for reading the room. 

“Canach, this is Detective Rama.” Vymio gestures, clearing his throat as Canach sizes Rama up like he’s deciding whether to blow him up or let him live. 

“Pleasure is all mine,” Canach says, his voice smooth and cautious. “Vymio spoke a lot about you.”

Rama returns the gaze, his expression steady as they shook hands. “Wish I could say the same.”

Vymio frowns beneath his mask. He doubts it’s a good idea to leave them alone with each other. Still, he didn’t talk that much. They’ve only just met up now. He told Canach of current events, so were his feelings plain to see? Then again, he had been dating Canach for quite a long time, it’s only expected that Canach would be able to spot something like this. Canach knew him too well after all. 

Maybe that’s why he ran.

Before he could open his mouth to intervene, Marjory calls him away and Vymio pulls back. The only thing he can do is caution them with a throw away line over his shoulder. His cape fluttering behind him. 

“Ah, I'll have to leave you two. Play nice!” 

He sincerely hopes that Canach doesn’t blow up Rama. No offense to Rama, but Canach is more… Built for end of the world scenarios and he has no doubt that Canach could probably take Rama in a fight. With a sigh, he approaches Marjory, his glow brightening under her amused gaze. He knew that look. 

She was laughing at him. 

Ankka happens and Vymio will admit she wasn’t a tough battle, he’s fought Elder Dragons, a crazy necromancer who’s main mode of attack was flinging around questionable substances doesn’t exactly make Vymio’s top five worst fights for his life. Then again, it’s hard to top Mordremoth in his own personal ranking. Balthazar is another strong contender, the fact he technically did die, made it hard for Ankka to clear the bar- And oh!

Vymio cringed as he dodged another puddle. He should not be distracted right now, he has other people with him. He wrapped himself in shadows, his gaze cold and mind back in the present. Beside him, he hears Rama fighting as well and he can’t help the smile on his lips, hidden behind his mask. 

It’s nice to have some back up again.

Vymio learns that Rama has a crush on Min. Or maybe it’s ‘had’? He’s not sure. A part of him is worried. After all, Rama has known Min longer, and presumably has held the torch for her longer as well. But is it even possible to pine away for that long? He hasn't even lived long enough to pine for someone that long. The thought is slightly sobering, and mostly amusing. Vymio was technically the younger between him and Rama. He can’t even imagine loving someone that long. His longest relationship lasted for all of 3 years. 

And look how well that had turned out, what with Canach leaving him in order to make a casino. 

Maybe that’s why his twin is gone. Vymio could never manage to keep a hold of his loved ones for longer than a few years. 

It’s a bit awkward when Rama boards Vymio’s boat and  the two make small talk about the sights that surround New Kaineng. As they travelled through the canals, Vymio bit his tongue unsure if he should speak and unwilling to break the tension. He’s lucky he’s wearing a mask, otherwise Rama would see him opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. 

“... So you can drive this thing.” 

Vymio blinked, his glow brightening as she chuckled softly, embarrassed at the fact that Kuunavang had told Rama about his little mishap. “Yes. I suppose you can say that I got better at driving this.”

“Good. That’s- That’s good. You learn fast.” Rama nods, bobbing his head up and down. It’s endearing how awkward Rama is.

 The tension in him eases as he teases his companion, “I sure hope so, seeing as I used this to get to New Kaineng.” 

“Maybe after all this, I should see how good your boating skills are. A tour around Seitung by boat would be nice.” He smiles, and oh Pale Tree that smile. 

Vymio’s eyes are drawn to that smile, the little dips on his cheeks. Dimples, he recalls. It’s cute, like Rama’s smile, so soft and almost shy. Crooked and awkward, and so, so, painfully honest and sincere, he can’t help himself from smiling back.

He finds himself agreeing to this request. “That… would be nice.”

The silence comes back again, softer and gentler now. 

By the end of the boat ride, it’s Rama’s turn to tease as he offered him a job at the Ministry of Intelligence.

“How sure are you that I’m not already a spy?” Vymio remarks, a soft hint of mischief in his voice. 

Rama looks at him for a while, and the unspoken seems to connect them. A bit of cheek, the ‘I know, you know about me, I know you probably did research on me, but I don’t care’ becomes a silent conversation that stretches for a heartbeat. 

The silence is broken with a laugh and a fond shake of his head. “You’ve got me.”

Lifting up his fingers, Vymio wiggles his fingers playfully. “I’ll see you in a bit, Detective.”

Vymio walks beside Rama listening and nodding along as he discusses how he would bring this up to Minister Li. Seeing Rama fret over all this was endearing, if he were honest. He misses those days when the biggest problem he had was answering to someone. Unbidden, memories of him and his brother making trouble when they were new blooms came to mind. Once, he and his brother had made a mess in the kitchen trying to cook only to come up with some burnt monstrosity that ended up with them getting scolded by a mentor. 

He shook his head. They’ve arrived and he needs to focus, he suspects Minister Li may do something drastic, he seemed the type to do so. When they are guided to look over New Kaineng, Vymio has a very strong feeling that Minister Li is, in fact, up to something and readies his hand on his weapon. The view is beautiful, at the very least. The distant lights resembled stars twinkling in the distance, having fallen on the ground. There was a sense of wonder to be found in that sight. 

Too bad, he thought as Minister or rather former Minister Li began to say his whole spiel about- Actually, Vymio had tuned him out when he began to bring them to the rooftop, so he isn’t even sure why this guy wanted to fight. He’ll let Rama talk for this one. 

Fighting beside Rama was fun, though he did keep an eye out, Rama was actually a decent fighter on his own. Vymio let out a laugh as he shadowstepped away from an attack. The former Minister had brought multiple guards with him and he only grinned. He’s pretty sure he looked like a psychotic Sylvari, with the way he was acting but…

It’s been so long since he fought someone who wasn’t dripping in some kind of additional magic ability. No dragon corruption, no death defying Lich, no madness brought on by the Void, it was liberating. All there was, is a man, his weapon, and a really strong need for power. It’s refreshing! 

Unfortunately, Vymio was so deep in his euphoric battle high that he only noticed a second too late that Li was gunning after Rama. And Rama, unlike him, was not as well versed in fighting against someone who was close to him. He rushed over, taking the hit, and damn! Li hit hard. He fell to the ground, stunned for a moment.

“Vymio!” 

Vymio lifted the mask slightly, spitting out some blood. Shaking his head, he wraps himself in shadows. The cold darkness embraces him, soothing the injury as he got back up again, his pistol in hand. 

“You alright?” 

Rama nodded his head, his expression resolute as he lunged at Li. “Fine!”

 Li Ha-Eung rolls his eyes at them. “I should have known! You wouldn’t have allowed these outsiders, Rama! It’s because one of them seduced you!”

“I’m not a bigot like you!” Rama shouts back, and Vymio approves of this. 

Still, he needs to end the fight quickly, he’s starting to tire and he has better things to do than beat up a government official gone mad. Min’s yelling out all sorts of helpful things and finally, they finish the fight. With a soft sigh, he turned to check on Rama.

“Good luck with the paperwork.” He snorted. 

Rama made a face and Vymio couldn’t help but cackle in delight. 

Too bad, he’s needed at Joon’s mansion. 

Once this is over, Vymio is seriously going on vacation.

He’s busy. So busy in fact, that the next time he sees Rama it’s at a war table. They’ve talked shop about the usual preparation when it comes to felling an Elder Dragon. A void infected one shouldn’t be too different, right? He discusses what they have, what they need, the footholds they must establish, the layout, and whatnot. The key point though are the extractors, and he’s already dreading the idea of any of the extractors breaking. He feels a bit nostalgic now as he nods along, gives commands, and takes note of what they must do. 

Once done, he makes his rounds. He understands the pre-battle jitters. The worst part of any campaign wasn’t the action, but the wait. The build up, the dread, the energy has nowhere to go, so he lends an ear. 

Ayumi talks about the Kestrels and he offers to let her go back only for her to decline. Taimi talks about the void, her expression somber. Kasmeer talks about apologies, and what comes after, her mind racing only to be slowed once he reminded her to take it one at a time. Then finally, he reaches Rama and suddenly his mouth goes dry and he’s filled with plenty of words unsaid.

I missed you. I thought about you frequently. Are you well? Run away while you still can. Please, don’t leave me.

He swallowed the words and instead said, his tone gentler, voice a bit rougher, “How are you feeling, Rama?” 

Rama looks at Vymio, opens and closes his mouth, before his mouth clicks shut and he clears his throat. With a small shrug, he finally finds his voice. “A bit on edge and between you and me, I’m getting a little tired of this Ministry stuff. I might take a break from it after… after all this.”

Vymio nods along. He understands the fatigue, after all so much has happened in such a short span of time. In fact, he almost offers to join Rama on his vacation before deciding against it. Instead, all he could do was give Rama a quick pat on the shoulder and a soft parting.

 “... I’ll see you in the Jade Sea, Rama.”  

“See you in the Jade Sea.” Rama smiles at him, the smile was fragile, born of anxiety, the reality that they may not return from this expedition, and the bone deep tiredness that came from handling emotional struggles, actual work, and having to keep going in a world that seemed to be fading fast. 

It’s a smile Vymio burns into his mind. 

The final battle is a flurry of darkness and light. Colors in a prism being filtered through a desperate struggle to fell an Elder Dragon, one infected by Void. Soowon is in pain and the only thing he could do is fell the last living relative of Aurene. Honestly, Vymio thought he was going to die. Genuinely. Death wouldn’t be so bad, but then his mind thought of Aurene being alone and Rama’s smile, and just like that, he was coated in light. 

He leaps from area to area, a prism blade in hand as he swung. He didn’t pay much mind to the words of his companions. No, his mind is rushing to Rama. 

“Did you change your hair?!” Rama asked, and Vymio threw his head back and laughed. 

It was a laugh bordering on sobbing as he felled the next Void being before they confronted Soowon. Time blurred together. He can’t remember anything aside from Soowon’s gratitude, the haze of adrenaline fading to leave an exhausted and aching body and finally…

Finally, they were done. In Arborstone, he made his rounds, acting as though his body wasn’t sore, his mind wasn’t tired, and that he himself wanted to sleep for five years minimum. Vymio approached Rama and Min, his hopes dying as he overheard something.

“... It’s something. I think I-”

Vymio approaches and Rama stutters out, “I think you’re great!” 

Min raises an eyebrow at hi. “Mhm, you think… I’m great?”

“A great Minister, yeah. That.” Rama doubled down and Vymio’s hopes shriveled like a wilting flower.

He smiled, laughing it off, grateful for his mask as he made conversation with Min. He nods along,  but isn’t absorbing a single word. When it’s time to face Rama a lot is left unsaid. Words filter in, talks of the future, shaky and uncertain. His tongue lies heavy, so much unsaid, so much to resolve and Vymio’s at a loss. 

The party goes on and Vymio drifts, until he’s alone in Arborstone, in the familiar office Rama used to occupy. The couch is still there and the desk is clean of any paperwork. No pens, no paper, not even a spilled ink stain. He ran his hand over it, his gaze wistful.

He doesn’t lift his head immediately as he hears footsteps, Rama’s footsteps, and the swing of the door. Turning around, he faced Rama. Rama took off his hat, placing it on the now empty desk. Vymio takes off his mask, putting it on the desk, right beside the hat. It’s a heavy silence as they stand and gaze at the other person.

“We should talk about… what happened when I uh, panicked.” Rama sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“We should.”

Silence. Rama’s opening his mouth, looking like a fish out of water as he fumbles with his words. He can’t help the fondness blooming in his chest, and he decides to bite the bullet first. 

“I… Rama, I find myself falling for you like flower petals drifting towards the water, eager, and wanting, hesitant but inevitable.” He said, words curling in the air as he put his emotions to word. 

Rama steps forward, swallowing as he tries to find the words. “I’m sorry for panicking. I- I don’t have your way with words. I can’t speak pretty if at all but, from the moment I met you, you wouldn’t leave my head. It was honestly kind of a pain because I’d close my eyes and all I see is you. Your eyes, your smile, and your unsecure com channel has me hearing you too.”

Vymio’s eyes widen as he steps forward. The tentative step of testing the waters, seeing if this is what Rama meant. They’re close now, he’s looking up at Rama, eyes curved. Rama reached out, a hand cupping his face. He leans against the handle, nuzzling it as he smiles up at Rama. 

“Me too.” He whispers, “Me too.”

They stay like that, Vymio gazing up at Rama’s face. Rama’s holding him as though he were fragile. It amuses him and endears him in equal measure. Here he is, the Commander, the Dragon Slayer, and yet Rama is cradling him like he’ll fade away at a single touch. Rama leans forward, their foreheads touching. 

“Then, if you want, maybe we could…?” 

“I’d love that.”

They lean at the same time, meeting halfway to kiss one another. 

By the Pale Tree, Rama kisses like a man drowning. Rama pulls him in close, holds him like a lifeline and tries to breath him in. A sailor drowning at sea, blissful as he kisses away his worries. Rama pries his lips apart and Vymio lets out a soft sound as he leans into it. Rama holds him tighter and Vymio wraps his arms around his neck. Rama tastes like sea salt, like mint and sea salt, fresh and slightly sweet. His eyes fluttered closed. 

When they separated, Rama’s beaming smile is all Vymio needs to soothe the last remnants of insecurity.  “You’re beautiful. I’ve always wanted to tell you that. You’re beautiful and I- I love you and I want to be yours and call you mine.”

“You’re mine. I’m yours.” Vymio says, lips brushing up against Rama’s. “Until we decide otherwise.” 

“Forever. If you want.”

The promise of a forever, of a steady facet of his life feels like a dream. It’s a promise he wants to believe, and Rama doesn’t have that bitterness Canach had. There’s no hint of strain, no swearing upon a crumbling castle of a man. 

“Forever,” Vymio mumbles. “That… sounds nice. I never imagined I would have the chance for a Forever instead of a ‘Sometimes’.” 

Rama leans forward and plants a tender kiss upon his brow, and Vymio can’t help but wonder when was the last time he’s ever had someone treat him so tenderly, so gently, like he was a person worthy of such love? 

“There is now.” Rama says, his voice a smooth timbre as Vymio leans into the embrace. 

The arms of Rama were warm and comforting. Like a warm blanket on a winter’s day, all he wanted was to stay in that embrace. It was soothing. The warmth reminded him of being a seedpod. His mind wandered as he realized there’s something else he had almost forgotten. He let out a laugh, light and relaxed.

“That means I’m calling you ‘Dearheart’ now.”

Rama smiles down at him, his gaze so loving that Vymio wants to memorize this smile too. “Pet names already? Why, I think we should just propose right here and now!”

“Oh please, a wedding is too much trouble. We should just elope instead. I hear Cantha’s a fashionable rendezvous place at this time of year.”

Rama rolls his eyes and ends the hug, leading Vymio to sit on the couch. “Didn’t you promise me a boat ride? Maybe we should do that instead of running straight into eloping.”

“I already gave you a boat ride, Mr. ‘Can You Drive?’.” 

They look at one another and laugh. Their laughter echoing through the room and making it feel some semblance of home instead of sacred ruin. Vymio has never felt so at rest in years. It’s a warmth and relief, an elation that could send him flying through the clouds if he wanted to. 

It starts with Taimi and Gorrik's developing relationship, pirates in the sky, crash landing into a foreign land, and his third imprisonment. 

It ends with his own relationship status changing, the end of the Elder Dragons cycle, the promise of a tomorrow, and a single room that somehow feels like home.