#I DIDNT SEE THE BIT ABT THE TAG ON THE BOOK SORRY KING

[m1d-45]

(Hello-! I'm kind of new to asking during events so im sorry if it was actually closed! ^^'') To the General Mahamatra, Cyno.

Hello Cyno! I had just wanted to check up on you, which is why I had brought this letter over, but something was kind of stuck in my head.

Nahida told me you liked telling jokes! So I decided to include a small gift I held onto for a few years! It's a book of jokes I've said or used with explanations. I'm not certain this message will reach you, but if it does, keep it away from the other matra lest they start running again, eheh-

I hope this letter does reach you, Cyno, have a great day or night, okay? I promise to pray for you to have a safe travel no matter what.

-🌟Moth

[There seemed to be a small journal, with a few hand written jokes inside with a tag attached to the front page. It read: "For the General Mahamatra, have fun!"]

cyno walked the desert, red eyes sweeping the sand. he wasn’t looking for anything in specific- you could hardly call this a patrol, in truth. he was simply walking, just outside of aaru village, with no real intent except for his occasional glance upwards to appreciate the meteor shower currently taking place.

the sand and the air were cool, wicking away any sweat worked up from pacing in circles for the last… how long? an hour, maybe? he wasn’t sure. all he knew was that he’d made the decision to go for a walk not long after sundown, and ever since he had been doing just that. walking.

it felt almost like he was waiting for something. every time he would think surely, now he would be able to rest, every problem he has solved and every errant thought out to rest, some new idea would spring forth of nowhere. ‘stay for a while longer,’ it said, and though he would protest every time, well…

cyno shifted his weight his heel, prepared to walk his well-worn loop. however, at the last point before his turn, something warm came up behind him.

his polearm was in his hand before he could think, instinct angling it over his other hand to block whatever blow was coming. yet, nothing came.

a strange ball was floating just past his weapon, the bright shell standing out against the desaturated desert. part of him expected it to explode, to burst into flames, to do something dangerous to prove that his instinct to stay had been right.

but it didn’t, and it was only thanks to his reflexes that he managed to catch whatever dropped from the rapidly-dissipating shell before it hit the sand.

cyno’s mind raced as he noticed one of the objects he was holding was an envelope, understanding crashing into him. he’d just raised his weapon against a messenger of his god- of course it was you, who spoke through the stars, and even unintentionally, he still…

thankfully, you don’t seem to hold it against him.

your letter is kind, and though you addressed him by title, the rest of your language is far more casual. its… comforting, almost, as if he’s received a message from an old friend.

maybe it’s poor form to think of you like this. to dare touch what should be regarded as holy scripture, to flip through the book you gave him, skimming the notes you’d made, the comments you’d left for him.

and maybe it was dangerous to be so distracted in the dessert at night, when the light of your star had almost certainly acted as a beacon for his location. but you had blessed him with safe travels, promised him a safe night, and he believed that that was true.