#cindylu

Lunafreya couldn’t even imagine the way his face would fall. She couldn’t bring herself to think about how much easier it would become in less than a minute for him to bring his own life to an unfitting end.

It only made her further despise her loss of power. It frustrated her to think that fighting Leviathan had siphoned that last bit of strength from her bones and barely left her alive. Were she still the Oracle she had once been, she might be able to venture into the dark and help them.

Instead, this task was left to another. Going after Gladio and Prompto was the job of a strong, capable woman she scarcely knew, but deeply respected even after the short time Lunafreya had spent here in the safety of Hammerhead. Mere days after the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon for the last time, Miss Cindy had become something of a leader here amidst the seasoned hunters and refuges that managed to make it there before the lights in Galdin Quay went out.

It feels impossible to approach her, no matter how kind she’s been. Though she’d taken her in, given her a bed to sleep in and clothes to wear, Lunafreya’s had little to offer in return for her hospitality. What little strength she’d had prior to the battle with Leviathan had fled right alongside her powers.

No longer could she commune with the gods or call forth their will to heal her people. Apart from pretty words, she was useless—or at least she felt that way, no matter who tried to convince her of her worth in these trying times.

“Miss Cindy,” she finally says after a long moment of excruciating silence. She can only watch the woman prepare for departure for so long before the fear eating away at her finally takes hold and she’s forced to speak.

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Miss Cindy Aurum turns to address her. Soft green eyes meet her own and suddenly, she is awash with a sense of tranquility she hasn’t known in weeks and she wants to cling—hopelessly, desperately—to the woman before her and the hope she instills in her that Prompto and Gladio alike are alive, wherever they might be now.

“Need somethin’, Lady Lunafreya?”

The garage is empty, save for them and the car Miss Cindy’s been working tirelessly on for the last few hours. The lighting is dim enough to conserve some amount of power, but bright enough that it still staves off the daemons that lurk now in every dark corner of the world.

Alone as they might be, in a room so quiet that a pin dropping would be audible, Lunafreya finds herself choking on every ounce of anxiety pooling in her stomach. She’s dizzy with the fear of asking Miss Cindy for something so selfish, so beyond the realm of what she would dare consider acceptable.

Never once had Lunafreya considered her own needs anything more than secondary, if even that. She needed to be there for her people, more than she ever thought she would need even a brief moment of comfort from a woman who was little more than a stranger.

But today was different. Today, she was not the Oracle she once was. The powers that had been loaned to her by the Astrals had been revoked and she had been robbed of her ability to give even momentary peace to her people.

“Please, don’t walk out that door,” she says after a moment of silence that leaves her heart pounding in her chest. Her words spark an unfamiliar light in Cindy’s eyes that overwhelms Luna with a sense of guilt that might never be quelled.

Gone is Cindy’s brilliant smile, replaced by the same frown she wore when someone came to her with grave news. The loss of Cindy’s keeps Lunafreya from finding her own more so than usual. So heavy is her heart with the loss that came with the deaths of so many that little keeps her spirits up, save for the optimism of people such as Cindy.

It only feels worse to stand here knowing she is the cause of yet another to lose their smile. Already she bore the weight of so many other failures, yet she still chose to add this on top of so many others.

“If you don’t come back… I…”

Her words are lost to her fear, to the anxious rumblings in her heart that was already screaming for the perceived loss of men like Gladio and Prompto, whom she might never lay eyes on again.

But Cindy doesn’t shy away from her because of this. Nothing about her pessimism shocks her like it does so many others. Here, there is no pressure to uphold a false image of hope that Lunafreya can’t bring herself to believe most days.

“Your Highness, ya ain’t gotta worry about little old me,” Cindy says with a laugh so brilliant that it seizes that stress from her soul and slays it. “Just cause those boys can’t take the heat, don’t mean I can’t.”

Luna knows that she should agree, that nothing leading up to this point had ever given her the impression that Cindy couldn’t fare better than most beyond the boundary of the outpost. But she couldn’t help the cold, icy grip of fear taking hold of her. Every day, it’s grasp was strengthened and terror in her heart only grew.

People were dying left and right, disappearing into the night sky and becoming daemons themselves. Luna’s concerns couldn’t be so easily assuaged and Cindy is too kind to leave her to war with these feelings on her own, much like how she couldn’t leave Prompto and Gladio out there to do the same.

Cindy reaches into her back pocket a moment later, giving her little in way of words of comfort and instead handing her the item in question.

“Here,” she says, as if her intentions are clear, though Luna feels only confusion in their wake.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

What lays across both her palms is a wrench of all things, old and clearly well taken care of, much like the rest of Cindy’s equipment. Still, she finds it odd to be handed such an important tool that Cindy would surely need.

“You’ll hold onto her for me, won’t ya? That beauty is my good luck charm and I’m gonna be comin’ back for her.”

She says it as though it ought to quell the worst of her fears and perhaps it does. It’s a physical representation of a promise that Lunafreya is not accustomed to, but she finds herself somehow calmed by the idea that, if nothing else, Cindy would be returning for this tool too important to her trade to leave behind otherwise.

“I’ll need it to give those two boys a good smackin’ around for worrying ya when we get back,” Cindy says with a confidence that even Lunafreya is tempted to believe. For the first time since Prompto was presumed missing and Gladio elected to go looking for him, Luna felt there was no well-intended lie amidst the promise being made.

“Please,” Luna starts, feeling like anyone but herself in these few moments, when her heart ached with the fear of losing not one nor two, but all three of them in one fell swoop. It didn’t much matter how desperately she wanted to look strong, for she knows her world is on the verge of collapsing beneath her feet with so many deaths and disappearances fresh on her mind.

She can’t take even one more, much less three.

-

 Sunlight beat down the back of Cindy’s neck as she stirred. Everything ached, but nothing really hurt, at least, not that she could tell. That was a good start. Cracked fingertips twitched on the surface of something smooth, slimy, and she realized that she no longer had her gloves. Had she taken them off? She was almost certain that she had them on when she fell. Whatever. She was too tired to care, and the melodic voice that was singing to her was too beautiful to interrupt. Questions could wait; she just wanted to listen to this song some more.

 What song is this, anyway?

 The next time Cindy came to, there was no singing, and the ache in her bones was almost non-existent. Without opening her eyes, she sat up, groaning. Even if her muscles didn’t ache from the fall, they were definitely stiff from being unused. Slowly, she peeked an eye open. Beneath her were rocks, but not the same rocks that lie at the base of the lighthouse in Caem. Maybe she wasn’t far off, though? Her jacket was shredded, discarded in a heap a few feet away, and her gloves sat atop them. Looking over her body, there was hardly a mark at all, save for an indigo colored bruise that looked more like a watercolor painting on the outside of her left thigh. It almost resembled a flower, Cindy thought, and she ran her fingers over it.

 “I hope you don’t mind,” a voice, gentle, feminine, came from her right, and Cindy whipped her head to face the source. A gasp lodged itself in her throat as she took in the…creature. She was beautiful; Fair skin, with ash blond hair wrapped in a braid and a pony tail, and eyes as blue as the clearest water she could ever imagine. A white, sheer top that did little to cover the girl’s chest hung around her neck, and purple earrings that glittered like crystals hung from her ears. Behind her was…a tail? A tail made of dark blue, almost midnight, with gold along the edge of each scale, swished in the water.

 “What..?” Cindy managed, and she hoped it would magically ask every question that was racing through her mind. What was she? What was this place? What happened? What the hell is the mark on her leg? What was her name?

 So many questions.

 “Your leg,” she says, and motions to it with a hint of guilt in her eyes, “It’s the mark of Tenebrae, an uncommonly practiced magic from the days of old that binds a human to the kingdom of which the mermaid who gave them the mark belongs.”

 Cindy gawked and rubbed her face. This had to be a dream. That, or she was one-hundred percent dead and this was some kind of weird limbo between Heaven and Hell. Or maybe this was one of those places. She had never paid much attention to the that sort of thing, and Paw-paw wasn’t much for preachin’. She scrunched her nose and ran her hands through her hair, only just realizing that she was without her hat. Huffing, she leveled another look on the…mermaid?

 “What?”

 The girl giggled, and Cindy almost felt bad for being so flustered when she saw her dazzling smile. And that laughter. Her voice was truly godly.

 “I should start over.” She placed a hand over her chest delicately as she spoke, and the gesture, though seeming a bit over the top, caught Cindy’s eyes. Was her skin shimmering? “My name is Lunafreya. I am the Princess of Tenebrae, an underwater kingdom that lies between Niflhiem and Lucis.”

 Those were words that Cindy understood, mostly. She’d heard of Tenebrae, but the Tenebrae she knew of was definitely not under the sea. She’d overheard the prince talking about it before, how he had visited there when he was a kid because of some injury, or somethin’. It couldn’t be the same Tenebrae, right? Was it possible that there were two Tenebrae? That seemed like the most logical answer, but also the least likely. Then again, given the circumstances, she supposed she couldn’t really be a judge of what was likely and what wasn’t.

 The mermaid continued to smile at her, and Cindy felt butterflies flutter in the pit of her stomach. She, Lunafreya, was a sight to behold, barring the fact that she was half fish, and Cindy found herself entranced by her. She’d never really paid much attention to the merfolk stories that Weskham had told her when she was a little girl, but sitting here now, amongst the sea-worn rocks, face-to-face with a creature from the deep, she wished she had. At least then, whether she was alive or dead, she would kind of know what to say, what to expect.

 “What do the humans call you?” Lunafreya asked, and she folded her arms in front of her on the rock, propping her chin atop them as she floated, eyes fixed on her.

 “Uh, Cindy,” the mechanic said finally, and the sound of her voice made her wince. It was deep, gravelly, and she coughed. “Cindy Aurum.”

 “Aurum,” Lunafreya repeated with a fascinated grin. “As in gold?” Slowly, Cindy nodded.

 “That’s right.”

 If Lunafryea was going to say anything, she was cut off by the sound of Cindy’s stomach roaring to life, but not with the aforementioned butterflies. With hunger. And it promptly reminded Cindy as to why she had fallen to her death in the first place. As her stomach gurgled, the two women locked eyes, an awkward silence falling between them, until they both giggled at the situation. Oh, what the hell. If she was dead, she might as well play along with whatever fantasy this was, right?

 Because this had to be a fantasy. Beautiful mermaids didn’t just save mechanics that fainted and fell into the depths of the water.

 “You wish to eat?” she asked, but Cindy thought it was more of an obvious statement than a questionable observation. “I am afraid I haven’t much in the way of human delicacies, but perhaps…” The mermaid trailed off, as if she had gotten lost in a stray thought, then reached out, her hands lightly touching Cindy’s cheeks. They were cool, Cindy noted, and felt like mist against her skin. Maybe she had been expecting her to smell of ocean, or dead fish, she wasn’t sure, but she was pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t slimy nor smelly. Lunafreya tipped her head down and pressed their foreheads together. Under her breath, she whispered words that Cindy didn’t understand – probably some kind of weird mer-language, is that was a thing, and felt a surge of energy around them. It wasn’t scary, really, rather, she was awestruck. Her eyes flicked from side-to-side as she watched this strange magic float around them.

 And then it was gone. In its place was a bowl of soup and bread, as well as juice in an ornate glass. Cindy looked from it to Lunafreya, who had sank back to her original position, watching her again.

 “So…you can just produce food from thin air?” Cindy asked, and Lunafreya laughed.

 “Nothing can come from nothing,” she replied cryptically, and Cindy suddenly felt dumb for asking it at all. “However, I am able to manifest simple desires, should one want them enough. Food, for instance. You wanted to eat badly enough that I was able to bring it to you from your mind.”

 It was one thing after another with this girl, and Cindy felt as though she would be perpetually dumbstruck. She thought maybe she should stop asking questions, but then where was the fun in that?

 In this case, however, she wouldn’t question the legitimacy of the food. The scent of potatoes wafted into her nostrils, and Cindy lifted the bowl to her lips, uncaring of the audience she was keeping, and drank. Immediately, she pulled the bowl back and set it down on the rocks.

 It was hot, and she felt the warmth spread through her as her tongue burned. Hastily, she reached for the bread. It, too, was warm, fluffy, like the kind she remembered her mother making when she was much younger.

 Cindy froze. If she were dead, wouldn’t they be with her? Did she not lead a life good enough to see them in the end? Her arms dropped, and the bread rolled from her fingertips. She hadn’t considered any of that prior to now, but now that she had…

 “Am I dead?” she asked softly, unable to meet Lunafreya’s eyes. If she had, she would have seen confusion and curiosity in them. She would have seen Lunafryea shake her head.

 “That is the price for the your mark,” she answered quietly, and Cindy felt her touch her hand. She didn’t pull away. “Your life was spared. In exchange you are bound to the waters.”

 Blood rushed to Cindy’s head; she heard it pounding against her ears, felt it thrumming through her veins. This wasn’t happening. No way.

 “…why?” she hiccupped, and Lunafreya frowned. “Am I just your pet now?”

 “Of course not,” the mermaid assured, and with her other hand lifted her chin to look at her. “That was never my intention.”

 “Then what was your intention?!” Cindy snapped, and she had expected Lunafreya to recoil, but she remained next to her. Their hands still touching, their fingers wove together. She wanted to yank her hand away, to be angry and lash out, but where would she go? What would she do? Lunafreya was her only hope at surviving. Her hand was forced.

 “Only to save you, and perhaps get the chance to talk to you.” Lunafreya admittedly quietly, and as much as Cindy wanted to call her a liar, she knew there was truth in her words. A voice as angelic as hers could speak nothing false.

 “Can I ever go home?” Cindy asked finally, allowing her cheek to be cradled in Lunafreya’s palm.

 “If that is your wish,” Lunafreya replied. “Though, I must warn you. Your mark will always draw you back to the sea. You will miss it, long for it. The need to be near the water will overcome you over time.”

 “And what does that mean?” She had only ever really known land, the desert, specifically, and that was as far from any kind of water as you could get. It wasn’t that she didn’t LIKE water, per se. She simply hadn’t spent a lot of time around it was all. Could she grow to like it? Probably, but under her own circumstances, and not some old mermaid hat trick.

 “I don’t really know,” the mermaid sighed. “Mermaids are only allowed to mark a single person in their lifetime, and since it’s a long forgotten tradition, no one has performed it in centuries. There are rumors that the human imbued with the mark may move closer to the sea to be near it, or live on the water by way of boat. However, there have been scarce whispers of humans that have fallen in love with the water so much that they wished to become one with it, and were granted permission by the Goddess to live as one with the kingdom in which they were marked by.”

 Cindy listened as she spoke, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask any more questions, or to speak at all. What would Paw-paw say if he saw her with the mark? Would he even know what it was? Probably not, she thought. He would think it was a bruise, a permanent reminder, like a scar.

 Night was drawing upon them quickly, but Lunafreya was still there, unmoving, patiently waiting for her to process things. There were still a million questions to ask, but there wasn’t enough strength in her to keep asking them. She didn’t know if she could handle the answers, or if she really even wanted to know them in the first place. There had been a time when she had considered herself a curious girl, but never in her life had she ever thought it was a bad thing to be. Now, she wished she had never asked anything. Maybe she would have been better off dying amongst the rocks.

 …Lunafreya, though, hadn’t seemed to think so. She had saved her on the principle that she wanted to speak to her. But why? It wasn’t like they had ever met before. Maybe she was the first human she had ever seen, and wanted to ask her own questions? That seemed plausible. But again, she didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore. She wanted to sleep, preferably in a bed.

 “I want to go home,” she whispered, and Lunafreya only nodded before she finally let go of her. Cindy watched as she tipped her head down, as though she were praying, and the water around her stirred to life, waves crashing on the rocks and glowing a seafoam green. From the depths arose two giant seahorses, one on either side of her. On her left was one that was all white, with scales that gave off an iridescent shimmer in the majestic light that surrounded them. To the right was one that was all black with oil slick scales. This one, unlike the other, was wild, as though it had seen a million journeys begin and end, and Cindy could sense the pride and loyalty it emitted.

 “Oh my stars…” Cindy trailed off, eyes flicking between the two giant creatures.

 “I can only provide you so much,” she said, and her voice echoed as though it were all around her all at once. “This will have to do for now.”

 “What…is this?”

 Lunarfreya flourished her hands.

 “Pryna,” she introduced the white one, “is my spirit guide, a soul that has been attached to mine since birth.” Cindy didn’t understand, but she nodded all the same. “And this is Umbra.”

 Umbra and Cindy’s eyes met, and Cindy couldn’t be quite sure, but she was almost positive she could hear Umbra speaking to her, as though there was some sort of secret understanding between the two of them. Maybe there was, now that she was part mermaid, she supposed. It might just come with the territory.

 “Umbra can take you anywhere,” Lunafreya explained. “He has the freedom to wander through time, within certain limits, of course.”

 “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!” Cindy exclaimed, astonished. “This seahorse can do all that?” Lunafreya nodded, and Cindy couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Well, I’ll be. That’s pretty nifty!”

 “Indeed it is,” Lunafreya agreed as she smiled, but it was sad, Cindy thought. “He can take you to your home.”

 “What about you?” Cindy asked. “Where will you go?”

 “Home, as well,” the mermaid said, “until you call upon me. Then I shall be wherever you call me to.”

 Cindy blinked and tilted her head. Surely mermaids didn’t have cell phones, right? How in the world was she supposed to call her anyway?

 As if reading her mind, Lunafreya swam to her once more. Again, she placed her hands on her cheeks, and Cindy reveled in the gentle mist that blessed her skin. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Cindy thought she could see the world within them. The gaze was intense, and it only lasted until she felt the brush of lips on her own. Gold and silver sparks ignited between them, but they didn’t burn. Instead, they tingled, and danced on the pout of her lip.

 And then they were gone, as were Lunafreya’s lips.

 “For whenever you speak my name by the sea, I shall come to you.”

 Everything blurred, but Cindy could see Lunafreya’s beautiful face, followed by a black mass that she assumed to be Umbra before she felt her eyes slip shut again.

 -

 Sunlight beat down on the back of Cindy’s neck as she swore and shielded her eyes. From what she could make out, she was at the lighthouse in Cape Caem again. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, noting that she was wearing her gloves again, and they were in the same condition they were in before she fell. Her jacket, too, was all in one piece. Had it all been a dream? She gasped, and immediately twisted her body to look at her leg.