cior is lunette

After countless failed attempts, Ziven finally managed to tame the dragon. He stood there, victorious, but his mind wasn't celebrating his achievement. Instead, it was preoccupied with a single thought.

That scar...

He paced back and forth, recalling the brief glance he got at Cior's shoulder. It wasn't just any scar—it was identical to one he had seen before. Lunette's shoulder... That same scar was on her.

"No, no, no. It can't be," Ziven muttered under his breath, his hands running through his hair in frustration. "How could they be the same person? Lunette was elegant, mysterious, and kinda terrifying. Cior's just... Cior."

But the more he tried to dismiss the thought, the clearer the memory of that scar became.

"Maybe I'm overthinking. Maybe scars like that are common? Maybe... maybe..." His voice trailed off as the nagging suspicion refused to leave him.

The dragon let out a low growl, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Right. Focus, Ziven. You tamed a dragon—this is your moment of glory. Stop thinking about... her." But even as he said it, his eyes flickered toward Cior, who was busy fixing the makeshift bandages over her shoulder.

He sighed. "Nope, I can't let this go."

"Hey, honey, I did it! Congratulations to me!" Ziven said, his voice filled with a proud smirk as he stood next to the now-tamed dragon.

"Yah, yah, congratulations, but can you give me your jacket? My clothes are torn," Cior replied, trying to keep her composure, but her torn clothes made her look anything but put together.

Ziven glanced at her, eyes narrowing. "Why? Even your half-torn clothes are perfectly covering you. Only your back is visible... Are you hiding something?"

Cior shot him a glare. "Shut up! You know I'm a guy," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling the weight of the situation.

Ziven chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Yah, sure. But you look like a girl."

"If you call me a girl one more time, you're dead meat," Cior warned, her voice darkening. "I'll go back without you."

Ziven raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No more teasing. But seriously, your back—what's with the scar?" He couldn't help it; his mind kept going back to the scar that was haunting him.

Cior's eyes flickered, and she quickly shifted to cover her back. "None of your business," she snapped, her tone suddenly serious.

Ziven opened his mouth to press her, but he thought better of it. "Fine, fine. Let's get back. But you owe me a story sometime, Cior."

Cior rolled her eyes, walking ahead. "If you keep talking about this, you'll regret it."

For the next several days, Ziven couldn't shake the thought of Cior and Lunette both having the same scar in the same place. It nagged at him constantly, but he didn't dare bring it up directly, knowing Cior would shut him down immediately. Instead, he decided to stay close to her, trying to learn more about her without outright confronting her.

He spent entire days by her side, bombarding her with all sorts of random questions. "Hey, do you like spicy food?" he'd ask out of the blue, even though they were walking through the forest with no food in sight. When she gave him a puzzled look, he'd simply laugh. "Just curious."

Or he'd throw in a prank here and there, just to see her reaction. "Oh no, there's something on your shoe!" he'd say, pointing dramatically at her foot, only to watch her look down in confusion as he ran away, giggling. He'd hide behind a tree, waiting for her to catch up, and then launch into a casual, "Did you fall for that?"

Despite his pranks and annoying questions, Ziven could sense Cior growing a little more agitated with each passing day. She'd scowl at him, give him sharp retorts, and even walk away sometimes, but he wasn't giving up. "You seem to be avoiding me, Cior," he teased once, as they walked side by side down a corridor in the academy. "Are you scared of my charm?"

Cior rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

But Ziven didn't care. He was determined to figure out what was going on, even if it meant pestering her endlessly. What did the scar mean? Why was it exactly the same as Lunette's? There had to be a connection, but he wasn't going to get it by being direct. So, for now, he'd continue his relentless banter, keeping his suspicions hidden behind his smirks and jokes.

Though she didn't admit it, part of Cior knew that Ziven was up to something. She had caught the way he'd been observing her lately, the way his gaze would linger on her shoulders when he thought she wasn't paying attention. But instead of confronting him about it, she'd just keep playing along, knowing he'd give up eventually. After all, Ziven had a habit of getting bored after a while, right?

One lazy afternoon, Cior had fallen asleep on the couch in the academy's common room, exhausted from her latest experiments. The warm sun beamed through the windows, and the peaceful atmosphere made it the perfect time for a nap. She lay there, completely unaware of Ziven's mischief as he tiptoed into the room with an idea forming in his mind.

Ziven, grinning to himself, grabbed the long white wig he had "borrowed" from one of the costume closets. With the skill of a stealthy thief, he gently placed it on Cior's head, adjusting it so it looked as though she had long, flowing white locks—just like Lunette. His mind raced with thoughts, and he muttered to himself as he studied her, "Maybe... maybe this was the right thing to do... Could it be? Could she really be her? No, no, it can't be... but… what if?"

He paused, his hand hovering over her as he realized the implications of what he was thinking. "Maybe... just maybe, she is Lunette." His eyes widened as the thought hit him like a ton of bricks. "No, wait, I can't believe it. But… it makes sense, right?" He grinned widely, not able to shake off the surprise and excitement of the revelation.

Before he could do anything else, he quickly stepped back, hearing a slight shift in the air as Cior stirred from her nap. Panicking, Ziven grabbed the wig in a rush and dashed out of the room, leaving her with the strange, long white hair as evidence of his pranks.

Cior, still half-asleep, barely noticed the odd sensation of the wig on her head as she lazily blinked her eyes open. "What the—?" She lifted a hand, only to pull the wig off and toss it aside with a groan. "Ugh, Ziven… What are you up to now?"

Meanwhile, Ziven, standing just outside the door, tried to stifle his laughter but couldn't hold it back. "Maybe I did the right thing... Maybe not. But I'll find out soon enough!" He smirked, already planning his next move, oblivious to the chaos he was causing.

Little did he know, this strange prank would only add fuel to the growing mystery that surrounded Cior, Lunette, and the identity of her true origins.

After days of pranks, wild theories, and endlessly mulling over the strange scar on Cior's shoulder, Ziven reached his breaking point. He had spent hours pacing, scratching his head, and even banging his head against walls—something that was probably not the best idea, but it was the only way to release the frustration building up inside him.

Finally, with an exaggerated, dramatic sigh, he threw his hands up in the air and stared at the ceiling, feeling utterly defeated. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but... He's Lunette!" he said aloud to himself, banging his head one last time against the nearest wall for emphasis.

The realization hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. All the pieces, all the signs, the scar, the white hair, the strange way she acted, it all pointed to one conclusion. Cior, the girl he had been traveling with and getting to know, was none other than Lunette—the very same Lunette from the past, a past he couldn't deny any longer.

Ziven slumped to the floor, rubbing his head in frustration. "Of course, it had to be her... Why didn't I see it before? All these signs were just right in front of me!" His mind raced as he thought about the implications—about the past, the secrets, and what this revelation meant for both of them.

"Great. Now I know too much... And now I'm completely stuck in this mess," Ziven groaned. "I'm definitely not telling her, though. I've got to figure this out on my own first... I mean, what if I'm wrong?"

He stood up, dusted himself off, and sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, there's no turning back now. I guess I'll just... keep pretending like nothing's changed." He smirked. "At least until I figure out how to deal with this."

Ziven leaned against the wall, lost in thought, still unsure of what to do with this new, weighty knowledge. For now, though, he was content with his final conclusion: Cior was Lunette. And now, he had to figure out how to handle it without making things even more awkward than they already were.