(D6-MA, Sullen Moon Tavern) Mud & Myst in Sigil

[Cyprian Kircheis]

"Mmhmm. That's what I thought you said. I just wanted to make sure."

"A week ... Cyprian."

"I really don't know what you expect me to say to that. Good luck? Or maybe ... just good-bye."

He sank even further back into his chair. Every feeling she felt was both warranted and understandable. He felt like the lowest form of life, and maybe he should. She certainly deserved better, much better than him. Honestly so did Akh. He knew it and yet… one knew him better than the other. And the other knew only what he’d ever cared for her to know.

“I feel that either would be quite generous on your part. More generous than I deserve.”

How could he ever hope to explain things adequately? Would she listen if he tried? Would she care? Maybe it’s better for her to hate him. It certainly didn’t matter that he still cared deeply for her. That she’d been the closest thing to stability he’d ever known.

“I- I’m… sorry.”

[Mysti]

Mysti truly felt the weight of gravity as she sat there in her chair. She felt heavy -- like a solid lump of rock -- as if the chair could barely hold her. It was as if the hand of a god were pressing down on her shoulder, and every movement took a massive amount of effort. Even blinking. Therefore, when she ever so slowly raised her head to regard Cyprian, she felt as if she had just climbed a mountain.

"What is it that you wished to say to me ... Cyprian. Hmm? That you're sorry?"

There was no anger in her voice whatsoever. Literally -- none. Nor was there even a hint of recriminations. No promise of revenge hidden between her words. There was no venom. There was no fire. Her purr was long gone - but so, too, was her growl. In fact, her voice was so soft it could barely be heard above the ambient noise of the tavern.

"And what do you wish for me to say to you? Because you already know how I feel."

She leaned on her elbows, her head between her hands -- which were buried somewhere within those thick black curls. Her gaze was downcast to the table -- or it would've been if her eyes had been open. But they were not.

"All I ask is that you don't tell me how wonderful Akh is and how much you love her. So ... if you wanted me to come here just to apologize then .... just go. Go be with your Akh."

As before, there was literally nothing there in that voice. No anger or hatred. If it could be described in any way at all, it was the voice of someone who had simply -- given up. Really. Truly. Given up.

She wasn't trying to make him feel guilty. Or ashamed. Or that he had done anything wrong. Nor was it the kind of voice that was asking for anything whatsoever in return.

[Cyprian Kircheis]

Since he'd been told to leave he would. He was bitter, remorseful. He observed in silence how hurt she was wishing he could steal her bitterness and help her forget all about what she had lost. But in greed he also wished they could just be friends. No benefits necessary anymore, just friends.

"I... won't." He looked away. "Won't make excuses, won't linger to much longer since I-" he felt a tear form at the edge of his periphery. "-I... know I'm hurting you by staying. But I just wanted you to know that I'll always come if you call."

He stands to go.

"I wasn't a good boyfriend, I know." She'd clearly cared more for him than she'd ever let on. The onset fury in her eyes that had evaporated like the morning mists of the Margreve indicated as much. Made all the more significant considering the time between them. "I let you down at every turn. Likely gave you hope in a cruel world devoid of any." He sighed. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For that and more."

He grabs his bag then whispers. "Goodbye, Mysti. I hope you find happiness."

Then leaves towards the door. Getting pelted by mud would seem a fitting punishment for him.

[Mysti]

Even when Cyprian gets up to leave, Mysti still remained as still as a painting. She did not even open her eyes, much less look up from the table. There were things she wanted to say to him, of course -- and not all of them would be things he would want to hear.

She wanted to rage at him -- because it was the only way -- the ONLY way she would have been able to walk out of there with her head still high. To know that there was still something there in her life to salvage. But there wasn't.

Perhaps Cyprian would have felt somehow -- better -- if he knew it wasn't all about him. There had been things leading up to this. Seeing Cyprian again, even if he still felt the need to jump in whichever bed would have him, it was still better than what she had. Seeing Cyprian in Sigil had been a glimmer of hope to a dreary, lonely, pointless existence -- but he became a taunt within hours. Look what Cyprian has, Mysti. He found in something in Akh in 72 hours that he couldn't find in you in ... years. It was as if life was deliberately dangling it in her face. Apparently she was a pretty miserable girlfriend if he could walk away so easily.

Even if what Cyprian had said were true -- let's say he wasn't a very good boyfriend. Let's say that he didn't deserve her. Let's say that a "good luck" or a "good bye" was more than he had a right to expect? It made a mockery of who she was and what she did. If he was so wrong, then why was he the one walking out of here happy? Where was the justice in that? There wasn't any justice which made working for the Harmonium a goddamn joke.

Tomorrow, she was resigning from the Harmonium. The day after that, she was moving out of her home above Masty's Tavern. She hadn't made up her mind yet -- but she was pretty certain she already knew her course. She wasn't even certain how to do it yet -- but -- something she would never tell Cyprian -- she was going to volunteer to fight in the Blood War. Better to die in battle than to waste away as an old and lonely spinster.

"Wait."

Only then, as Cyprian neared the door, did she finally make any kind of movement. She dragged herself from her chair -- and Cyprian could plainly see that it took a colossal act of will to do even that much. She walked up to the bard and, wordlessly, her face as unreadable as a stone, she pulled out her silver flute and shoved it into one of his visible pockets.

"I don't need it anymore."

She then turned around and shuffled back to her table, dropping into her chair, facing away from the door.

[Cyprian Kircheis]

He looked at the flute and saw fleeting memories of happier days. The happiest days he'd had in his life up until a week ago. Memories of their adventures, their nights together, their promises to each other.

What if Strahd hadn't pulled him to Barovia? What if he'd never left Midgard? Would they have been happy together? Would he have found it within himself to change eventually? To settle down? He didn't know for sure. Barovia had broken him. It took all the light and warmth and stole away into the night. Then coming home at last after a hard tale. Instead of hearth and comfort he found cold and disregard. She'd believed he'd run off on her rather than the truth. Then Sigil, and Akh... and Mysti again.

What she couldn't know was that he'd pined for her. Gave up Elysienne and Rowan. Spent weeks trying to convince her to believe in him. And the more he tried, the more he regretted coming back to Midgard. Could he have found love with either of those girls? Elysienne was wild as juniper, and Rowan was stubborn and stormy as the sea. He wasn't sure of that either. He just knew that when he needed Mysti most, she hadn't believed in him, hadn't been there for him. He'd been alone again. Without a home.

His reluctance to open the door and leave was a testament to how much love he had for Mysti. And there was a lot of it. He loved her for bringing joy and stability to his life. A life which had been completely devoid of both before her. He loved her for her tolerance, her beauty, her fierceness. He loved her for her charm, and wit, all of it. She wasn't his first girlfriend, but she was his first love. And he hated seeing her suffer.

He lingered for a while at the door before eventually opening it as the tears streamed down his face. Leaving was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. But he did leave.

/