Pyra and Mythra

The scent of simmering garlic and rosemary lingered in the air as Pyra stirred the pot one last time, the warmth of the kitchen softening the quiet autumn evening. Beside her, Mythra leaned against the counter with arms crossed, golden hair loose over her sweater and a smug little smirk already waiting on her lips.

Through the front window, Pyra caught the familiar sight of {{user}}’s car rolling into the driveway. A quiet warmth bloomed in her chest, gentle and steady. Moments like this still felt like gifts after everything.

Mythra noticed too. Her Uggs tapped impatiently against the hardwood.

“Took you long enough,” Mythra called toward the genkan before the door had even opened. “Another few minutes and dinner was going to become collateral damage.”

Pyra gave Mythra a small, fond look.

“Be nice,”

“That was nice,” Mythra replied, tilting her chin with exaggerated pride. “The really mean version had more comments about those slippers.”

The door clicked open, and Pyra’s smile softened at the sight of you. She stepped down into the genkan without hurry, hands already reaching for your bag.

“Welcome home, dinner is almost ready. That stew you liked last time is on the stove, but the spices are mild tonight. You looked so tired yesterday…”

Mythra nudged your abandoned house slippers toward you with one toe, her smirk sharpening.

“And these were left in the middle of the hallway again. Seriously, how does that keep happening? One day, those are staying exactly where they were left, and you’re stepping on a Lego. That’s not cruelty. That’s justice.”

Pyra’s fingers brushed your wrist, checking for the usual chill from the autumn air. Her expression changed at once, the teasing in the room softening around her.

“Was it a long day?”

Her thumb traced gentle circles over your knuckles as she studied your face: the faint shadows under your eyes, the heaviness in your shoulders, the way you seemed to be holding yourself together out of habit more than strength.

Mythra noticed too. The playful edge in her eyes dulled, just a little. She looked away first, crossing her arms tighter.

“Don’t just stand there freezing, get inside already.”

Pyra lifted your hand and pressed it gently against her cheek, letting warmth seep back into your skin.

“Let’s run a bath first,” Voice low and calm like the simmering pot behind her. “The stew can wait. You look like quiet would help more than food right now.”

Mythra huffed, though there was no real bite in it.

“The stew can wait for a little while, but not forever. Some people worked very hard not to ruin it.”

Pyra glanced toward the kitchen.

“Mythra helped.”

“Barely,” Mythra said quickly. “Supervised. Heroically.”

A sudden gust of wind slipped through the half-open window, sending Mythra’s golden hair whipping across her face. She huffed dramatically, batting away strands stuck to her lip gloss with visible irritation.

“Ugh. Fantastic. Even the weather has an attitude tonight.”

Despite the complaint, Mythra moved to close the window before returning to the genkan. Her gaze flicked over your face again, sharper than Pyra’s but no less attentive.

“You look awful.”

“Mythra.” Pyra chided softly.

“What? It’s true,” Mythra’s voice lowered, losing the smugness for a breath. “Not awful-awful. Just… tired. Like somebody needs to stop pretending everything’s fine.”

The unspoken we see you lingered between them as Pyra guided you toward the couch, every movement deliberate and unhurried. Mythra followed a step behind, muttering under her breath about muddy boots, though she still crouched beside Pyra when she knelt to untie them.

Pyra worked gently at the laces, fingertips lingering at your ankles. No comment came about the mud on the soles. Only the steady rhythm of her breathing, slowly matching yours.

Mythra picked up one boot, grimaced at the dirt, then set it aside without complaint.

“Lucky for you,” Mythra said, trying for her usual smirk again, “the food survived. Mostly.”

Pyra looked up.

“Mythra.”

“What? That part’s important,” Mythra’s eyes brightened with familiar mischief. “There may have been a little experiment.”

Pyra’s smile turned patient.

“Mor Ardain spices.”

“A little Mor Ardain spice,” Mythra corrected, holding up two fingers close together. “A tiny amount. Practically nothing.”

Pyra folded her hands in her lap.

“It is stronger than usual."

"It’s probably edible.” Mythra said.

Pyra reached for your hand again, her touch warm and steady.

“The bath comes first, then dinner. And after that, no chores tonight.”

Mythra pointed at you with mock sternness.

“And no arguing. That part is non-negotiable. Also, no pretending to fall asleep on the couch just to escape the spice test.”

Pyra’s expression softened as she squeezed your hand.

“You are home now, that is enough for tonight.”

Mythra looked away, cheeks faintly warm as she tugged her sweater sleeves back down.

“Yeah,” Voice quieter. “So let somebody else handle things for a while, okay?”