#pyti

Ship: Pyrrha/Tira Fandom: Soul Calibur "I can't..." prompt: "...imagine myself without you." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - As much as she had originally desired naught but the ultimate end of everything, Tira found herself thankful that things had taken a different turn. After letting the cursed blood flow freely with the power of Soul Edge, Pyrrha, having become Pyrrha Ω, had managed to reclaim her sense of self. Neither Soul Edge nor Soulcalibur had been destroyed, but the beings inhabiting them had all been quelled, and while Patroklos returned home to Athens, free of Elysium's grasp, Pyrrha sought a different life, bidding him farewell and whisking away with Tira, who had gone from being a manipulator to being her servant. However much her mind may have been her own, Pyrrha's body was still deformed, and she suspected it would be that way forever, her eyes still burning with scarlet light and her right arm mutated into something demonic.

That was okay! She still had Tira with her, and Tira always made her feel better! Well, almost always.

"Tira," Pyrrha called out, standing in a grove at dusk. "Tira, my bird, where are you?"

Melting out of the shadows, there stood Tira, looking far worse for wear than usual. Scars of both cuts and burns decorated her skin in an even wider variety of patterns than her tattered clothes did. She had none of the confidence or cleverness she displayed when she and Pyrrha had first met. "Here, Master," she answered shakily. The only light in her eyes came from her malfestation; none of the intense emotions of before remained.

Giggling with joy, Pyrrha ran forward and threw her arms around Tira's middle, hugging her tightly. "Bird!" she shouted happily, holding an unenthusiastic Tira for several seconds before releasing her. "Tira, why are you so sad?" Pyrrha asked, looking hurt that the one she loved was not keen on returning her feelings. "Doesn't it please you to see me as much as seeing you pleases me?"

Tira forced a smile. "I... of course it does, I'm just tired, is all," she replied, her demeanor making her excuse very unconvincing to anyone who wasn't Pyrrha. She winced as Pyrrha's hug tightened sympathetically, feeling the ache in her bruised ribs flare up at the pressure.

Pyrrha's luminous eyes glowed brighter as she looked into Tira's own, her face deeply saddened by the news. "Oh, no!" she gasped. "My pretty little bird is broken! Tira, do you know how to fix broken birds? I have to know!"

"Sorry, but I'm afraid not," Tira grunted. "I think your bird might be broken forever at this point."

Pyrrha wore a pout on her face, the cuteness of her expression making a jarring contrast with everything else about her. "W-well," she stuttered out to push past the urge to shed tears, "broken birds are still pretty. Even if you're broken, you'll still be pretty for me, right?"

Something between a chuckle and a pained wheeze huffed out of Tira's throat. "Always, Master."

Pyrrha flung herself onto her back, landing hard on the mossy forest floor, using herself to cushion Tira's own fall. "Broken bird, pretty bird," Pyrrha cooed in a sing-song voice. Her hands under Tira's armpits, Pyrrha moved her feet to brace Tira under her hips, and lifted Tira into the air above her. "Broken pretty birds can still fly, see? They just need a bit of help!"

Tira did her best to laugh, the noise echoing from her weakly. "Thanks, Master," she protested feebly, "but this bird would like to rest, if you'll allow it?"

"Of course, you can rest for now," Pyrrha relented with an affectionate smile, setting Tira down beside her. "I love you, Tira," she said as she gently stroked Tira's face with her claws. "What kind of world would I live in without my pretty bird?"

She kissed a now curiously silent Tira on the forehead. "I could never imagine a world so miserable. I'll always have my bird Tira with me. Always."