#cipher sans

Cipher stirred in his arms, a small sound pressed against Templar’s chest. The baby blinked once, dazed from sleep, then tucked himself back under the blanket. His glow pulsed faintly — steady, trusting.

“Easy now, little one,” Templar murmured. “We’re home.”

The door opened without creak or clang. Inside, the lamps burned low, golden against the stone walls. The air smelled faintly of tea and parchment — and something warm, something familiar.

Unknown was there on the couch, waiting. No tension, no pacing. Just quiet patience, a bottle resting in his hands, faint wisps of steam curling from it. His eyes softened the moment he saw them.

“Welcome back,” Unknown said softly.

Templar chuckled, closing the door with his foot "Thank you.". Unknown smiled as he stood, arms open.

Templar passed Cipher over carefully, the blanket sliding just enough for the baby’s tiny hand to peek out. The moment he was in Unknown’s arms, Cipher relaxed, nuzzling instinctively toward the familiar warmth.

Unknown settled back on the couch, tucking the blanket close before offering the bottle. Cipher latched instantly, tiny sounds breaking the hush of the room.

Templar eased down beside them, the glow of the fire catching faint runes along his sleeve. For a long while, neither of them spoke. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need filling — just breathing, feeding, warmth.

“He did well today,” Templar said at last, voice quiet and fond. “Zero’s foundling took to him right away. Couldn’t stop talking to him, and playing with him. Cipher just stared like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.”

Unknown chuckled under his breath. “A ten-year-old and a baby… that must have been something.”

“Surprisingly harmonious,” Templar said. “The boy was gentle with him. Patient."

Unknown smiled, his tone soft. “Maybe that’s good for him. To be around other souls, even for a while. To see kindness outside our little circle.”

Templar tilted his head. “That was the idea.”

Cipher made a small sigh and turned his head, eyes half-lidded. Unknown shifted the bottle away and brushed a finger along his tiny cheekbone. “There you go, sweetheart. All done.”

Templar held out a cloth automatically, and Unknown chuckled quietly. “You always know when I’ll need one.”

“Precognition. Occupational hazard.”

“Convenient,” Unknown said, lifting Cipher upright to burp him. The baby made a small, hiccuping sound that earned both of them quiet smiles.

When Cipher finally drifted off, Unknown rose, carrying him to the small cradle near the window. The aurora outside shimmered gently, as if dimming to match the hush. He laid Cipher down, brushing the blanket smooth over his chest.

Templar lingered, tracing a faint glyph in the air above him — a lullaby charm, subtle and slow. It faded into golden dust above the cradle.

“Show-off,” Unknown whispered, though his voice held only affection.

“Efficient,” Templar countered.

Unknown stepped back beside him. “You always come home tired.”

Templar’s eyes softened. “Because it’s the only place where I can afford to be.”

They returned to the couch, shoulders touching. The silence that followed wasn’t empty — it was full of everything unspoken between them.

After a moment, Unknown rested his head against Templar’s shoulder. “Thank you for taking him today.”

“Zero needed the company,” Templar replied. “And I needed the reminder of what we protect.”

Unknown hummed quietly, the sound deep and warm. “You always say that like it’s a duty.”

Templar turned slightly, his voice low. “It’s a privilege.”