#Cyrus and Neoma grew up in a loving home

[neoma-eltanin]

Prompt #23: pitch

For FFXIVWrite2022 Character: Cyrus Eltanin, Zo’tall Hydrae ( @ffxivtribehydrae​ ) Warnings: None

Despite the fact the kingdom of Doma was occupied by the Galrean Empire, the people of Yanxia found ways to lighten their ordinary days in their rather humble lives. Such was the case in places such as Hashidoi, the little village north of the capital of Doma. While they were forced to labor hard to produce rice and bamboo to whatever the Empire requested of them, as well as for themselves, they had time for other things every so often.

A melody was heard in the air. A gentle, light and soft dance of notes, like it was harmonizing with the birdsong of the forest surrounding the valley. Cyrus knew what that sound was. The little boy was on his way to the source of it, the sound of his geta sandals clopping against the dirt road as he hurried his steps. He had no reason to run other than that he wanted to see who was playing that beautiful sound. Someone who was very good at playing the flute.

There, by a cherry tree by the river, sat his father. It was almost autumn, and so the leaves of the tree were starting to change hue into a bright orange. His father rested against the tree, finished with the day’s work, relaxing and playing his flute. He had played flute for as long as Cyrus could remember. “Father!” the child called to him, interrupting his playing as he ran up to him with energetic steps.

“Hello, Cyrus.” The man smiled gently at him as the boy threw himself into his lap for a hug. “Are you done helping your mother like I asked?”

“I am!” Cyrus replied with a proud grin. “And Neoma can almost walk all on her own now. I was teaching her! She’s still small though.”

His father laughed. Despite Cyrus’ young age, he was a surprisingly responsible boy, always so caring for his family. It was heartwarming. “She is still a toddler. She will grow, eventually. Just like you. You will get very tall when you grow up, you’ll see. You’re growing fast!”

Again Cyrus smiled proudly at his father’s encouraging words. He admired his father more than anyone else in this world, and his support meant a lot for the young boy who wished for nothing but his love and care. “Father, how long have you played the flute?”

“Hm? Oh, a very long time. Long before I came to Yanxia, actually. Want to try it?” He handed his flute to his son, who eagerly accepted it and immediately attempted to blow into it without waiting for instructions. The sound was horrible and made both him and his father flinch by the painfully false tune. “Cyrus, Cyrus”, his father laughed. “It takes time, and practice. And you need to blow carefully, not so hard. Let me show you.”

Cyrus pouted in confusion as he handed the flute back to his father, who demonstrated and showed him how to place his fingers and lips, how to breathe and blow to create a clear tune. It was much more tricky than he expected, but he listened carefully to the instructions. Finding enjoyment in the playing once he managed to play a clean note, he begged his father to continue teaching him. His father was more than happy to oblige.

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Several years later, by the same cherry tree on an early autumn afternoon, Cyrus sat and played the flute he had inherited from his father. He never considered himself to be as good as him, even if others would disagree. At least he had a good teacher. He still enjoyed playing it, it brought back good memories despite how hard life had been during the Garlean rule. Now more than ever, he felt at peace. And when he played his flute, he relaxed.

“Cyrus!” A child’s voice called for him, accompanied by the sound of small geta sandals hurrying down the dirt road towards where he sat, and he stopped playing to look up.

“Hello, Zo’tall”, he smiled. This felt familiar. “Are you done helping Yuina like I asked?”