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Chapter Text

Every two weeks, Furina gets to indulge in her favorite activity: afternoon tea with Navia and Clorinde! Sometimes it’s just catching up over tea and other times they play a “One-Shot” of T3– that’s Tabletop Troupe to the uninitiated– with either Navia or Clorinde serving as Game Master. Furina, for her part, is simply happy to be included as long as they are happy to have her. It’s a great refresher after two weeks of work and her thoughts, which isn’t to say she doesnt treasure the company of the Salon or the troupes she advises– just that it’s nice to have a space to get away. 

The duo have become dear friends to Furina ever since they walked back from Qiaoying Village together. Their trip had revealed that Navia held no resentment towards Furina for what befell Poisson and that Clorinde’s pleasantries were not just born of her previous employment. Given that they each had played a part in the grand trial Furina waited her entire life for… the fact that they understood and expected nothing from her other than to simply be were an enormous relief to Furina.

While Furina was aware of Navia’s more famous aspect as President of the Spina Di Rosula and her tumultuous past with Clorinde, she had no idea she was such a sublime patissier! The way she always has ingredients on hand to whip up fresh macaroons is truly inspired. That woman has her priorities set right. Navia is as sweet as her recipes and a vivacious person– it’s obvious why Clorinde is so enamored with her.

Which is to say, Furina had only formally witnessed Clorinde’s professional manner. It’s nice to see her smiling more, even if the smiles are a result of Navia’s presence. It’s been some time coming. In the period where Clorinde watched over Furina, Furina had in turn bore witness to the duelist’s quiet sorrow. She had attended the duel between Clorinde and Callas and witnessed the resulting fallout between the two childhood friends. 

When Clorinde and Navia introduced Furina to their beloved pastime, Furina was swept away by the possibilities. Furina had previously only heard of the game in passing, striking her with loneliness and envy. She had always felt a bit intrigued yet never had the company to play such a game. Most nobles would scoff at the very idea, as such, it was never brought up for teatime. Part of her wonders if her own reputation kept others from even suggesting the activity.

At first Furina had been concerned with playing the role perfectly for everyone else. It is a force of habit for her. She’s still learning to live impulsively and be more spontaneous. To ask herself “what does Furina want?” instead of “What would the audience think Foçalors would do?”.

Navia had quickly shown her that T3 was about “RNG”, going with the flow, and having fun in the setting of the world– even if it was at the expense of the GM. 

Of course, Navia’s example wasn’t always something others should follow. Her behavior was clearly a reflection of the close bond she and Clorinde shared.

Playing with them had revealed how good of a voice actress Clorinde could be and how much teasing Navia liked to employ. It was a different picture from the refined and professional selves Furina and most of Fontaine knew. Beyond learning this new game, Furina treasured learning more about her friends. 

Today, they are having lunch on the second floor of the Hotel DeBord. Before them is a tray of decadent croque monsieurs and cups of Fontainian onion soup laid out for each of them. They sit equal lengths apart at the table, though Clorinde and Navia always inevitably end up scooting their chairs closer together. Furina wonders if they are even consciously aware of the action.

It was a little disappointing that they were already sold out of all sixteen slices of Furina’s favorite cake. They used to keep at least two slices for her on reserve– an act she had once believed to be out of respect and tradition for the Hydro Archon… though it turns out it was actually being paid for by the Palais Mermonia as part of her stay. It’s okay, Furina does not need those cakes to enjoy her more humble life– even if she does miss them.

“The reconstruction in Poisson is going well!” Navia announces, “Just last week the Spina was able to install a new wing to the main building for storing more dry foods and shelter.” She leans forward to add more quietly, “...And we just finished up repurposing the tunnel under Poisson to connect to Flueve Cendre. It’s so exciting.” 

Clorinde smiles over the rim of her tea cup, “I take that to mean all is going well in the Spina’s collaboration with the House of the Hearth?”

Navia nods, “Yes. I was a little skeptical at first, but all their terms have been not unreasonable. In fact, many of the orphans came to stay in Poisson recently. Something about the Hotel Bouffes d'ete being infested? Maybe it was being fumigated.” 

“Oh yuck,” Furina blurts with a grimace, “I hope they got it all cleaned out. Infestations are so grotesque and tedious, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Indeed. Although Poisson still lacks proper amenities, I’m glad I could help. Funnily enough, some of the younger ones have come to call me Big Sister. Still not sure how I feel about that, haha!”

“Speaking of fruitful partnerships, I may be able to convince Wriothesley to send another crate of building supplies later this month.” Clorinde offers as she rests her hand near Navia’s. 

Navia takes the bait, immediately grasping Clorinde’s hand with an easy grin. “I couldn’t possibly accept that, though I appreciate your efforts, Clorinde. The pre-existing agreement we have is working well enough. You know how difficult I find him to speak with.” 

“It’s rather easy when you pinpoint his weaknesses. Should you meet with him: do not forget to bring tea. Perhaps we can import a rare Inazuman blend.”

Navia chuckles at the suggestion, “Now how do you expect we do that?” 

“I’ve heard of a crew that sails internationally. I could put a commission out.”

Their conversation seems to continue through playful and challenging glances, a language Furina could only witness rather than communicate.

Furina shifts a little uneasily, her thoughts drifting to her helplessness during the flood in Poisson. Though she knows there was nothing she could have actually done to save those people, she still struggles to find a way to compensate for it now.

“It sounds like everything is improving,” Furina says as she stirs her spoon in the soup idly, pushing the melted cheese further around the bread. “That’s truly wonderful news!”

Navia turns her attention away from the duelist to meet Furina’s eyes, “Your contributions are also greatly appreciated. The books and toys you donated have done wonders to keep the children happy!” 

“I’m glad to hear that. If there’s anything else I could do to help, please let me know.” 

There’s a compassionate glint in Navia’s eyes, full of understanding. While Furina had feared she would have nothing to offer without her title of Archon, it brings her some solace that she can still do something. 

“Of course, Furina.” Navia’s gentle gaze turns mischievous as she leans on her palm, “You know… A little bird with a big hat told me you’ve been working on scripts for the Tabletop Troupe. Are we soon to witness the Game Master Furina experience?” 

“Ahaha… I’ve just been dabbling. I’m far too new to try being the GM.” She looks awkwardly between the two. “Especially with you two being veterans, I highly doubt I could, um, entertain you. I’m still learning all the rules…”

“Do not let that hold you back if you wish to try it out,” Clorinde firmly states, “If there are any questions you have, we will help you out.”

Navia smiles encouragingly, “Yeah! It’s about having fun– nothing as strict as, say, the rules of the court.” 

“Well, okay. Perhaps next time?” Furina rubs her wrist anxiously, “I’m not sure if I have a suitable script for us for the allotted time. The ones I’ve submitted thus far have been rated to be a bit… lengthier.”

By “dabbled”, Furina actually meant hyper-fixated. After experiencing the Marechaussee Hunter: Judgement Day script, Furina had spiraled a bit researching all the scripts the Tabletop Troupe had to offer. After devouring the outlines, she came to realize that the core of what made Tabletop Troupe’s games so incredible was the interactive aspect. The scripts were only an outline and setting for a world that was influenced by the actions of the players. So while the Marechaussee Hunter story could be adapted to a stage play– it would be far more exciting to adapt popular plays into worlds that players could experience. 

Working on turning some of Furina’s favorite stories and historical pieces into scripts absorbed at least three of Furina’s weekends. Weaving such fantastical worlds, branching story arcs, and NPCs with depth is an artform in of itself. Fortunately, Clorinde helped sort out how the more technical gameplay rules and loot tables could be incorporated into the scripts. 

“That’s quite all right. We can be adaptable!” 

“Yes, if it turns out to be longer than our usual time, I will keep a log so we can continue off next time.”

Clorinde and Navia exchange glances. Navia must have seen something there because she breaks into a grin as she lightly shoves Clorinde’s shoulder. 

The bittersweet side of spending so much time with them is the jealousy that simmers under her skin.

What is it like to have a person in your life you have known since before you even knew yourself? One who shares your sorrows and joys through whatever the waves would throw at them? 

Furina can’t imagine having such a companion and yet she's read countless stories of it. Such a common human experience yet so foreign. 

In all the centuries Furina carried on her act, she did so in absolute loneliness. Now that she is free to live as she chooses, she can finally have people close enough to genuinely call friends without fear that they would discover her secret. Although she still struggles with the insecurities, she’s much happier to be able to be her true self. Observing the bond Navia and Clorinde share, she can’t help but to be curious of experiencing a deeper relationship herself some day. 

All of Fontaine aside from Neuvillette, Navia, and Clorinde still see Furina as their former Archon. Or revile her as a criminal whose death sentence has yet to be carried out. For better or worse, most believe that she sacrificed the power of the Hydro Archon so that the nation’s stored Indemnitium could save Fontaine’s people from the prophecy. The entire trial and the verdict was all a grand metaphor– or atleast, that is how the papers made it out to be. Others have written books on their conspiracy theories, regardless of Furina’s outright refusal for interviews. 

There are still many split opinions on the actions (or inactions) of the Hydro Archon. Not to mention the majority of Fontaine’s people deny the revelation that they originated from Oceanids or that they have been Godless for so many centuries. The undeniable fact that remains is that Fontaine still suffered a massive flood– one that did not dissolve all of its citizens. Naysayers and skeptics claim it was through the strength and unity of Fontaine’s people that they survived, not any divine wave of hand. Furina wouldn’t deny that it was a monumental effort on all their parts. 

Anyway, the point is: despite finally being free to live her life, Furina can’t erase her past or the opinions of the people. Which also means that it’s basically impossible for her to really start over. If she truly wants to go somewhere no one knows her name, she would have to move to another place far away like Natlan or maybe even Watatsumi… Become a humble lavender melon farmer perhaps. She’ll meet someone with a kind heart and hmm, strong arms… 

Cut– What am I kidding? I could never be a farmer, I would absolutely die of boredom before the first crop yielded! As for a partner, well– Clearly! Someone worthy of my affections must also be erudite and talented! Kind of heart, yes, but also possessing a beautiful mind– who can captivate me day in and day out no matter what the subject.

“Lady Furina?”

A voice breaks her from her musing, startling her from leaning on her palm. She must have zoned out again. A waiter stands at her side, holding a covered plate. She glances at Clorinde and Navia who share her looks of confusion.

“Ah, yes? I don’t believe we ordered anything else.” 

He nods and puts the plate down, removing the cover with a practiced flourish.
“A slice was prepaid earlier and reserved for you. I was also asked to pass along a message.”

Furina gasps, the iconic green layered confectionery perfectly presented before her almost has her dropping her spoon into the soup. 

Navia and Clorinde look similarly surprised, although Navia is quick to grin.

“Oh, how brilliant!” Furina exclaims as she tears her eyes off the cake to look at the waiter, “Well? What message did my generous benefactor entrust to you?” 

“Ahem, she said ‘Please enjoy to your heart’s content, Miss Furina.’” 

“I will! Thank you!” Furina giggles, her soup abandoned entirely as she pulls the cake closer. The waiter nods and walks away. Clorinde glances around the Hotel while Navia leans on her elbows over the table towards Furina.

“What was that about? Do you have a secret admirer now, Furina?” Navia laughs.

Furina licks her lips as she eagerly lifts her fork to section off a piece of the cake, “Please! I am retired.” 

“I don’t see anyone…” Clorinde murmurs, alert as a Flatcrest Fulmar. Her old habits as Furina’s former bodyguard come as second nature to her still, it seems. She makes to leave the table when Navia casually grabs her wrist to keep her from hunting around the entire place.

“They would have had to make the arrangement early this morning in order to reserve a slice in advance. It’s unlikely they are here now.” Navia surmises.

“She,” Clorinde replies as she settles back into her seat, “The waiter said ‘she’ left a message.”

“The plot thickens,” whispers Navia.

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my tastebuds singing,” Furina interjects, mouth already full of the heavenly cake. She hums happily, near ready to dance in her seat. It’s truly been ages since she's been able to have this treat.

She sections off two more pieces of the slice and offers it to Clorinde and Navia. Clorinde eyes it warily but Navia is happy to scoop her portion up and attempt to feed it to Clorinde. The duelist has no choice other than to acquiesce, closing her mouth with a slight pout as Navia and Furina laugh.

“You have no right looking that upset over such a rare and exquisite delicacy! Be honored!”

“Mm, hm!” Navia hums in agreement as she promptly takes a bite of the other offered portion. “...and to think Furina was so gracious and magnanimous to share such a treasure with us!”

Clorinde grunts in response, ushering more laughter from Navia.

Cake is much sweeter with friends.

If I hear one more story about some man who feels the world owes him I swear I’m going to throw all these scripts into Estelle’s furnace. Furina taps her fingers impatiently on the stack of scripts in her hands as another hopeful attempts to sell a story to her. 

“Isn’t it so tragic?” Gratien proclaims as he clenches his chest, “He awakens before the end of the song. While the sacred lullaby keeps his people perfectly asleep until their kingdom can safely rise again, he is no longer able to hear it. Will he live on in silence, forever lost to time? What if he awakens another whose soul’s tune beats with his? Can their love bring harmony amidst the lone lullaby?” 

“Je meurs d’ennui,” Furina sighs, “Let me get this right: this guy wakes up too soon from hibernation and decides to utterly ruin someone else's life? Because he's, like, bored and thinks they should hook up?”

Gratien shakes his head, pounding a finger on his script as if it held indisputable wisdom.

“Consider what loneliness can do to a person! He was awake for a whole year before he made the decision.”

Furina tilts her head, her lips drawn in a thin line. Actually she’s more than tired, she's offended. 

“Consider the value of your character. Anyone who has suffered loneliness would not condemn another to it. What your character chooses to do is cruel and quite frankly antagonistic. If the audience is meant to sympathize with him, it is only at the cost of his love interest– which, from the sound of your premise, is entirely secondary to this man’s desires.”

“But… Miss Furina,” Gratien pouts, “It’s in Remuria- imagine the set design!”

“Don’t care,” she’s already at the door to show him the way out of her office.

Defeated, he trails after her as they step into the studio where several other writers and producers are milling about. Where Furina’s halls were once filled with role requests, now the performance world begs for her guidance on the next big show. The Fontinalia festival only increased the amount of requests, as Furina had proven herself as a phenomenal director in both traditional plays and in the burgeoning film scene. 

As a result, many faces are familiar to her. Gratien never fails to plague her with subpar ideas while Pauleau often comes to the meetings to improve his own scripts and network with the producers. 

“Ask yourselves! Does your story even want to be heard? If not, then why would I want to hear it?” Furina announces as she stands at the center of the room. She gestures to the main door for Gratien and any who would rather forfeit now. “I have time for one more before lunch. Anyone?”

A woman in a distinctly Chioriya dress bows and presents her script, “Miss Furina, please look at my work!” 

“Synopsis?”

“Um, in an effort to save mankind from the impending apocalypse, two friends time travel to before the Archon War and discover who the Archons were as people before the first calamity forced them to make the drastic choices they became legendary for.”

“That sounds pretty ambitious,” Furina murmurs, “I’ll look it over.”

The woman cheers, her hands almost shaking too much to hand the script to Furina. “Thank you so much, Miss Furina!”

She hums tiredly in response and waves her free hand, “Yes, yes, of course. That’s it for now, everyone. Ta, ta.”

Paying no mind to the grumbles of her “guests”, Furina slips back into her office, dropping the stack of manuscripts on her rack to be sorted before collapsing into her chair. She slumps over her desk as she leans on a gloved hand. 

Days like this are so exhausting. Why am I still in show business? Working behind the stage is so much more of a headache.Maybe I should move to Sumeru and become a Kshahrewar scholar instead.

Hm… Padisarah Pudding… She twirls a strand of hair around her finger as she smiles faintly at the memory of Sumeru’s desserts. It’s been quite some time since a troupe from Sumeru came to perform Fontaine, Furina thinks with a wistful sigh.

Rifling through her desk, she pulls out a simple container holding a pretzel and salad. It’s rather dull to her senses but it keeps her hunger at bay. She can’t afford to eat as lavishly as she used to.

Tap, tap, comes a knock on her door. 

Furina groans and clears her throat, “What is it?” 

“My apologies Furina,” Pauleau says as he gently pushes the door open, “A young blond man came by saying he had a delivery addressed to you.”

“Curious, I was not expecting anything.” Furina leans back in her chair as Pauleau carefully steps inside with a basket topped by a dark checkered maroon cloth. She pokes at the fabric, intrigued, “He didn’t say anything else? What did he look like?”

Pauleau scratches at his neck as he leans against her door frame, “No, he simply reported it was a delivery. Honestly? He kind of looked familiar. But I just can’t place where I’ve seen his face before.” 

“Strange…” Furina narrows her eyes, her gaze flickering between Pauleau’s expression and the cloth. Now that she thinks about it, there is something familiar about the colors, but it is darker than the ones that come to mind. 

It’s probably nothing. 

Hanging from the basket’s handle is a card that simply said:

To: Lady Furina

From: Her Audience 

She finally unveils the basket, revealing several crudely wrapped gifts coupled with notes. Puzzled, Furina draws one of the gift boxes from the basket and pulls out the card. 

The handwriting within is childish and unsure though the words make Furina giggle.

“Dear Miss Furina, your hair is very pretty. I want to make my hair like yours. From H.” Furina shakes her head affectionately as she carefully unpackages it. Inside lies a bundle of irregularly shaped cookies, clearly made by an amateur. “Why, I haven’t had a fan mail package in months! A school class must have sent this. Maybe they were studying the Greatest Actors of the era. Look at this one: Dear Miss Furina, my favorite songs are the ones you sang. Ohoho, maybe I should be a musician instead so that more people can hear my voice!”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea, actually,” Pauleau replies. 

Furina purses her lips and mutters to herself, “Then again, I would have to start writing lyrics… hmm.” 

She tries a cookie as she looks through each of the handwritten notes. It’s standard fare as one would expect, though the sentiment certainly makes it sweeter. “Mm, Pauleau, would you please take some of these treats and share them with my guests?” 

“Of course, Furina.” 

He takes an armful of the baked treats Furina sorted through and leaves her to the rest of the basket. 

Of course I could never leave show business. It’s moments like this, beyond the spotlight and crowds, that remind me how much these stories and plays touch the lives of the audience.

She snacks on a bulle wafer as she sips her tea, a smile on her lips as she reads each message. Furina folds up each one and puts them in a neat stack in her desk drawer. She truly appreciates each one, no matter how grammatically incorrect they may be. She loves them.

At the very bottom of the basket, a much finer present awaits her. It has a glossy sheen over the black print, a red ribbon tied precisely around it. Furina pulls a card from under the ribbon and nearly drops her partially eaten wafer. 

Miss Furina,

I do hope you enjoy these treats.

Your work has always been magnificent, regardless of the medium. While you may never grace the stage again as an actress, I did witness your last performances.

Ma chérie, tu étais superbe.

I think it would not be premature of me to declare that none shall ever compare to you. 

-P 

Furina’s cheeks burn at the praise within, the elegant penmanship a marked departure from the previous notes. Each stroke is finely and smoothly crafted by a masterful hand. As Furina rests that card on top of the rest of the notes in her drawer, she can’t help the flustered feeling that arises in her stomach. 

It’s nice to be appreciated, Furina thinks, if these gifts are from a class then that last one must be from their instructor.

She takes her time with opening the box, deciding to repurpose the red ribbon to tie up the bundle of notes in her drawer.

Oh Archons-

Inside the box was an assortment of chocolatier grade confections, the expensive kind Furina only treated herself to once every few months when she was still acting as Archon. Unable to resist, she pops one of the nugget shaped chocolates in her mouth and is immediately absorbed in the rich flavor and texture of hazelnut.

She groans in ecstasy and leans back in her chair. 

“I simply must buy a safe and put this box inside, lest I eat all of these chocolates before the sun sets!”

Furina rarely has a reason to travel out as far as Romaritine harbor, but she needs to pick up a Pasquale arriving from Petrichor’s renowned instrument workshop. A troupe she’s advising absolutely needs it as part of their musical accompaniment.

Surintendante Chevalmarin will certainly have questions about the bill but it’s a worthy investment, for sure!

She sits on the edge of the dock as she waits for the boat to arrive, casting her gaze out on the large mystical tree sprouting from Sumeru’s desert.

Comfort settles in her chest at the sight. It had disappeared a few years as the prophecy drew ever closer, serving to increase Furina’s anxiety. Seeing it return to light up the skyline after everything that happened is a relief. 

Furina has read a few records of the Great Oceanid Exodus. It is rumored that the first Hydro Archon, Egeria, met her end there. Furina has always felt a longing to make her own pilgrimage to the site. She holds no memories of Egeria… whatever she was to Foçalors, Foçalors took to her grave. Still, Furina can’t help but wonder if Egeria would’ve been proud of what they had accomplished for all of Fontaine’s people. 

A horn calls as the boat pulls in. Furina stands up, brushing off her coat tail with a grin. After thanking the boatman, Furina is on her way up to the aquabus with a sturdy box tucked under her arm. She’s welcomed aboard with gleeful enthusiasm, as if Aeval hadn’t just ferried Furina across an hour ago. 

Furina sets the box down securely beside her and takes one last look over the horizon. If she looks far enough, she can see the mountains beyond Liyue and Sumeru, out to Mondstadt. Someday, when she has the courage, she really will go out there to see the world beyond Fontaine. 

“I know it seems a bit unlikely but I’m willing to bet my hat on it-”

Her anxiety spikes at the sound of the jovial voice. Furina looks up to see Lyney boarding the aquabus along with his siblings. While she has each seen the twins separately in the past since the trials, she still has yet to apologize for accusing them.

“Oh, Miss Furina! What a pleasant surprise to see you.”

“Hello again,”

“Hi…” 

Furina smiles courteously and rests her hands in her lap as the siblings get situated opposite of her. Lynette sits just as properly as Furina and immediately produces a cup of tea from a card. Freminet slips down with his back against the chairs, pulling his knees to his chest. Lyney does the opposite, perching himself at Lynette’s side as he sits on the back railing. 

“Good afternoon to you all as well,” Furina nods, “what a peculiar turn of fate that we would meet again like this.” 

“C'est la vie,” Lyney retorts. “I’ve heard you’ve become involved with the Tabletop Troupe since our adventure together. I’m running one of your scripts with our siblings right now, in fact.”

“O-oh really? I’ve just been dabbling, really,” Furina replies shyly, “The world building has been very fascinating to me… and the proactive roles players can take. I hope you all enjoy it!” 

“Undoubtedly! Though I would also extend an invitation to you to join us as a player if you would like-” 

“Lyney, sir, please sit properly,” Aeval interrupts before Furina can think of a reply. While she’s happy to be invited, she’s unsure if she would be able to enjoy herself in the House of the Hearth. “The aquabus is about to depart.”

“Aha, sorry dear Aeval.” Lyney drops down by Lynette’s seat, his posture still rather laid back compared to his siblings. The trio have such different demeanors, it is genuinely fascinating to Furina to watch. “Anyways, what brings your esteemed self out to the harbor?” 

“Oh, I’m just picking up a Nightwind Horn for one of the troupes. There is a wonderful musical piece they have planned for the performance. Joni, their musician, is currently using an old horn, so dreadfully worn from overuse that its keys get stuck every time it’s played. I made arrangements to get them a genuine Pasquale. I can’t wait to hear what Joni can do with this.”

“Aw, that's so thoughtful!” 

“What of you? It’s been a while since you two graced the stage of the Opera Epiclese.”

Lyney shrugs, “We’re reworking some things. Lynette and I have some great new ideas.”

“It’s better to keep the audience on their toes than to inundate them with the same old tricks,” Lynette states, punctuating the sentence with a sip from her tea. “Though we’ve been doing small shows here and there for the Hotel DeBord and Poisson for practice.” 

“That’s good to hear.” Relief washes over Furina. Part of her was a little concerned that the murders at their last show had traumatized the kids from their passion. Then again, given her own decision to avoid the stage, she certainly wouldn’t blame them.

Leaning forward conspiratorially, Lyney stage whispers, “Freminet is going to join our cast.” 

“He knows tricks too?” Furina matches his energy by leaning forward with similar excitement.

“No.” Freminet utters, “I uh… I’m still not sure I’d do very well on stage. I’ve been helping with makeup and designing some of the props.” 

Furina smiles kindly at the shy boy, “Even acts behind the curtain are just as important. If you would like tips for acting on the stage someday, I would be happy to help you.”

“T-thank you, Miss Furina.”

“Please, just Furina is fine. I was a little worried, to be honest.” Furina continues as she looks back to Lyney and Lynette, “The papers spread wild speculations of Lynette permanently going solo. The Lost Puppet was quite remarkable, of course. The debut of the official showing was absolutely phenomenal, I’m sure there was a good bit of maneuvering required to have the true heart of the play shine through in the end.”

“Oh for sure,” Lyney nods, his eyes shut in reflection, “I think we had to do a little more than magic to slip through all the contractual loopholes. The politics involved in play production is far more tiresome than our magic shows. Fortunately, Father has always given us her support.” 

“Ugh,” Furina crosses her arms, “don’t remind me. If the critics and reporters ever give you too much trouble, feel free to call upon me.” 

“Thank you, Furina,” Lynette smiles as she vanishes her teacup, “I truly appreciate it. Hopefully we won’t find ourselves in such a situation in the future.”

“I mean it. I, um, never really properly apologized for putting you both on trial.” 

Lyney gets up from his seat to sit by Furina and offers her a handshake, “I think we’re pretty square after our part in your trial. So please, let us put it behind us.”

“Ah, okay. Very well, we’re even.” She shakes his hand.

Lynette had both of her thumbs up in agreement while Freminet’s posture became a little more relaxed, releasing one of his legs to sprawl out across the floor of the aquabus. Sometimes it's easy to forget that these kids are Fatui agents.

The House of the Hearth has changed quite a bit from how it operated historically. When Furina stayed up all night researching the twins, she had been surprised to discover that an organization that normally kept to the shadows would even allow any of its members to live such public lives. From what Furina remembers of the House of the past… the children were scarcely let outside those heavy doors.

They pass through the Poisson tunnel in silence. When the sunlight shines upon them again, Lyney is wearing a devious expression. 

“Actually, Furina, there is a matter that my siblings and I were discussing just before we came aboard. Maybe you would be able to help.”

“What is it?” Furina asks.

Freminet shakes his head, a panicked look in his eyes. 

“We want to support Father in return.” Lyney continues, “but we’re unsure how.”

“Father’s way of expressing love is not easy for most to accept and she’s rather indifferent to any gifts we give her.” Lynette adds as she fidgets with her gloves, “I think Father prefers to give gifts rather than receive them.” 

Freminet slumps, leaning his forehead against his knee. Lynette pats the top of his head to comfort him. 

Furina sits up awkwardly as she struggles to think of a solution. “Um, I can’t say I know your Father very well, so I’m afraid there’s not much I can really suggest. I’m not very adept at gift giving either, to be honest. I’ve never even had a family before…” 

The siblings exchange concerned looks with one another. It’s a story perhaps they are all too familiar with. 

“The closest I have to a family is Neuvillette. And I…” Furina frowns as she adverts her gaze, “I haven’t seen him in a few months now. So, yeah, I’m pretty under-qualified in this respect. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Furina. We’ll just do a bit more investigation on our part to help out where we can.” 

“I hope it all works out.” She replies softly, a distant look in her eyes, swept up in regret.

They are going to find out.

Heart racing, Furina awakens with a gasp.

Everyone will die if you don’t get out on that stage-

“No-” Furina can’t breathe, anxiety and dread overwhelming her, hands clawing at her neck as she struggles to remember where she is. “I-I can’t-” 

Birds are chirping outside the window, not a cloud in the sky. 

Furina catches her breath as her heart continues to pound. 

The act is over. Fontaine is safe. The curtain has closed. It’s okay.

It’s okay.

Slowly, she slumps back onto the bed, clutching herself tightly as she curls into a ball. Shuddering, she repeats those words to herself over and over.

An hour or two passes before the terror that gripped her relinquishes its hold. There’s nothing but the quiet of the day. The muted chatter of Fontainians outside, going about their lives. Furina tries to soak in the sensation of it– convince herself it’s real. She’s in the bedroom of her modest home in the Vasari Passage. She’s just Furina.

Days like this, Furina can’t shake the sinking feeling in her gut.

It’s the awful kind of day where Furina finds herself sprawled out on her bed with hardly a thread of something– anything– to motivate her to exist. It’s like… if she can’t do the one thing she was made to do, if she's too broken, then she can’t do anything at all.

Her natural enthusiasm about learning and exploring extinguished, as her brain just keeps turning in on itself. None of the ideas she shuffles though move her to action. 

She’s read all her books. There aren’t any good new books. Nothing will ever make her feel like her first reading of The Queen’s Crown. Not even that A Legend of Sword everyone is hooked on these days. Honestly, she thinks the plot is all over the place. The author could really refine their story if they stuck to fully exploring one storyline. 

The other thing she could do is practice using her Vision– although she really doesn’t feel like leaving the house to train. The last thing she needs to do right now is upset her landlord if she loses control of her Vision indoors again. So she is at an impasse in that respect. 

Furina sighs and flops over. She can’t even lay down right. She just feels uncomfortable and fussy in her own skin. Her stomach growls and she glares at the light filtering through her bedroom window. It’s likely mid-day already and she's still in her oversized sleeping shirt. 

The most frustrating feeling about days like these is that she feels it's entirely wasted. She’s not really getting rest on her day off yet she isn’t doing anything. Once the sun set and rose again she would be back to work and her selfcare day would once again be delayed by another week. 

Is this the life that Foçalors intended for them?

If she wastes another minute like this, she’s going to tear herself apart. So despite not wanting to move just as much as she did not want to stay still, she crawls out of her bed and pads her way down to the kitchen. 

Her home is slowly becoming less of a shell. Certainly not the same sorry state Clorinde had initially found it in all those months ago after Furina’s abdication. She has accumulated furniture and knick knacks to decorate the space. In fact, it is the Furina Award sitting on her living room shelf that sticks out the most. It still feels like some sort of twisted joke when she sees it.

I’m a director now, I should be stronger than this. 

Instead she's struggling to open a box of macaroni to boil. With a groan, she slumps against her counter as the water heats up. Furina really doesn’t feel like getting fancy with her lunch-dinner but the idea of eating it entirely plain disgusts her more, so she drags herself to the cooler and finds some vegetables to clean and dice. She can do that much.

Furina then snaps her fingers, manifesting the Singer of Many Waters. On her moodier days, the Singer is a comforting presence. They hum a soft tune as Furina assembles her food and before long, Furina subconsciously hums along. After a moment she recognizes that it’s La Vaguelette and scoffs to herself.

“What a fitting song for you,” Furina mutters as she looks upon the Singer’s oceanid features. 

She eats the macaroni slowly, contemplating if she should get a head start on writing reviews on the scripts she’s gathered from work. Then again, as unenthusiastic as she’s feeling today, it may sour her entire impression of the scripts. There really is no winning. 

A rhythmic tap echoes through her home.

Furina pauses and even the Singer falls silent. She hears another set of taps and frowns, the sequence not like either of the ones Neuvillette or Clorinde used. Snapping her fingers again, she switches the passive Singer out with her more active trio. 

Mademoiselle Crabaletta immediately scutters up the stairs towards the sound while Surintendante Chevalmarin takes more offense at her unwashed pan. Gentilhomme Usher floats over to the front door protectively. 

Furina slowly raises another spoonful to her lips, suspense over the disturbance almost entirely subduing what little appetite she had. Mademoiselle Crabaletta comes back down and bumps her shelled form rather insistently against Furina’s leg. 

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Furina concedes to the armored crab’s demand, standing from the table. Surintendante Chevalmarin covers her bowl and sticks it in the cooler while Gentilhomme Usher moves to cover Furina’s back. 

While the attendance of Furina’s most cherished Salon Members bolsters her confidence, she’s not even properly dressed. She grabs an umbrella by the door and holds it as a makeshift weapon as they ascend the stairs back to Furina’s bedroom. Furina glances around the room, the mess she left of it a moment ago undisturbed. Surintendante Chevalmarin bubbles disapprovingly at this.

“I was tired, okay?”

Mademoiselle Crabaletta nudges her again, this time towards the window. Furina slowly approaches the sill. 

“I swear if you had me come up all this way because of a bird, I-” 

She squints through the stained glass of the ornate window and notices a foreign shape on the other side. Carefully, she unlatches the pane and slides it up. Gentilhomme Usher floats out of the window and scoops up the object from the outside ledge and brings it closer to Furina. 

It’s a box of Bulle Souffles. On her second floor window ledge. 

“W-what…” Furina utters in disbelief, noticing a note tucked in the dessert carton.

Furina,

You are strong.

You are doing so well.

Even when it does not feel as such, please know that you are loved– not for what you were but for who you are.

It is my sincere desire that you find all that you search for in this life. 

-Peruere 

Shakily, Furina relatches the window closed and presses her back to it as she sinks down to sit on the floor. The distinctively familiar handwriting on the note is clutched in her hand as tears gather at the corner of her eyes unbidden. The Salon Members huddle around her in a show of comfort as she sniffles. 

“What the fuck?”

Clorinde looks highly unamused when a frazzled Furina appears on her doorstep. 

“Clorinde!” Furina calls in a panic, “I need you!” 

“I’m off the clock-” Clorinde retorts as Furina throws herself at her. “Woah, what happened?” 

Furina pushes her way inside Clorinde’s apartment, anxiously running her hands through her hair, pushing her already askew hat further to the side.

“I- I don’t know. I was having a bad day, you know? And suddenly there was a knock on my window and upon the ledge was a box of Bulle Souffles! My second floor! Bedroom window!” 

Clorinde’s expression becomes serious as she rests a hand on Furina’s shoulder, “Someone climbed up the side of your building to leave you a dessert? Where is it?”

“I ate it,” Furina cries, “it was so delicious.”

Clorinde blinks in disbelief, “Why would you eat it if you thought it was suspicious??” 

“I can’t help it! It’s my weakness, okay?” 

Clorinde massages her temples with a sigh. “Was there a note accompanying it?”

Furina adverts her gaze from Clorinde to study the floral arrangement on her kitchen counter. Fragrant Rainbow Roses in a yellow glass vase, freshly trimmed. Navia probably gave it to her. Funny, Furina never imagined Clorinde to be a receiver of flowers. 

She’s dawdling. The truth is, Furina isn’t sure how to talk about the notes. They’re personal to her, something precious she wants to keep all for herself. 

“Um, yes. There was. I think Navia was right about me having a secret admirer. It’s… not the first gift I’ve received from them.” 

The duelist shakes her head, her tone both firm and concerned, “Furina, what you have is a stalker. Someone is following you, they know who you are, what you like, and where you live. I would recommend seeking help from Chevreuse and or Charlotte– that is, depending on if you want the culprit jailed or exposed across the Steambird.”

Furina shifts uneasily as she considers both options. They were both undoubtedly great investigators, yet Charlotte is definitely a last ditch resort. Furina does not want to be the center of another news story. And getting the Gardes involved… 

“What if I just… want to talk?” Furina asks, biting her lip. Clorinde’s frown grows deeper as Furina continues, “I- I mean. They haven’t done anything bad! So they’re guilty of being a little creepy but they’re also… kind of sweet.”

“Archons, Furina,” Clorinde admonishes,” I would highly recommend not doing that. What if this person is dangerous?” 

“I know but they make me feel appreciated.” 

Furina takes a seat by Clorinde’s coffee table and buries her head in her hands. There is a pause, a sigh, and then the sound of Clorinde’s footsteps as she comes to stand by Furina. Hesitantly, the duelist pats her back.

“We all care very much for you, Furina. We want you to be happy. Whatever you choose to do, just know that you do not have to do it alone.” 

Furina looks up at her with watery eyes before standing and hugging Clorinde tightly. 

“Thank you.”

Clorinde’s hand remains on her back, rubbing gentle circles.

“Additionally, I would feel better if you joined me for more training sessions.” It’s not a suggestion. “You’ve been improving with your Vision and swordplay but you still have much to learn.” 

Furina scoffs, “If your standard for completion is me beating you in a duel, we both know that's not going to happen, even if I trained for five hundred years.”

The following morning, Furina awakes with determination to put herself back on track before the weekend is over. She takes a bath, eats some waffles, and bounds out the door with a basket and her scepter. 

Fresh ingredients. First she will head north out of town to pick fruits and herbs and when she returns, she will stop by Boucicaut’s shop for macaroni and Fonta. With each step, she radiates pride at starting her day so early. Now she can enjoy her jaunt without worrying about the time. 

The weather is pleasant, the sun shines through the clouds with just enough warmth to counteract the gentle breeze.

Neuvillette must be in a good mood today, Furina thinks. Though in all honesty, it’s been a while since it’s truly downpoured. Maybe the end of the masquerade was a liberation for him too…

Furina passes under the shadow of the broken Callas line, her shoes kicking aside the gravel and dust of the worn path. She picks fragrant Marcotte flowers with care and bundles them in her basket before strolling up to a Bulle Fruit tree. She puts down her basket before pressing a gloved hand against the trunk and considers how to best retrieve the fruit.

They hung upon higher branches than the last batch she picked. She could ask the assistance of Mademoiselle Crabaletta. Her Salon members are unbothered by the concept of gravity… the difficult part is getting the temperamental armored crab to cut the fruit without damaging it in her exuberance. The other option was that furina could climb the tree. That could be a fun exercise.

“Heh, what do we have here?” 

“Not right now, I’m thinking.” Furina replies, tapping her fingers against her chin.

The rough laughter grows as a looming shadow grows around Furina. She grumbles in irritation.

“Do you mind?” She snaps, finally turning her attention to the flock of onlookers. 

Oh, that's not my regular audience!

With a start, Furina realizes she’s surrounded by a group of treasure hoarders. 

“How much mora do you think Fontaine’s darling is worth these days?” One of the men asks, his voice a dry and wiry tone unlike the bulk of his appearance. 

“I don’t know Louie,” a skinnier hoarder in blue shrugs, “isn’t she a washout now? I hear she doesn’t even live in the Palais Mermonia any more.”

“She’s just an actress, should be easy pickings regardless!” A third chimes in as he threateningly raises a shovel at her.

Well, well, this situation takes Furina less time to consider. In the past she would have screamed and ran. Inside she still feels the urge yet the annoyance of abandoning these perfectly ripe Bulle Fruits because of some idiots anchors her in place. 

She’s done with avoidance.

“Ahem,” Furina interrupts, drawing the attention of the hoarders, “you seem to have the wrong impression of me. May I reintroduce myself as Director Furina de Fontaine and welcome onto the stage-”

She snaps her fingers and her Salon immediately answers her call, appearing around the men who thought to surround Furina. Chaos unfolds before they are able to process Furina’s proclamation, sharp claws snapping at their calves as blasts of high pressure hydro throwing them aside. 

Furina giggles, “-Gentilhomme Usher, Surintendante Chevalmarin, and the sublime Mademoiselle Crabaletta!”

The men slip and slide in confusion, yelping as the grass becomes too muddied for them to stand. Gentilhomme Usher wraps his many arms around Louie in a tight hug, causing the man to flail. The hoarder with a shovel attempts in vain to strike the finely dressed octopus, only for Mademoiselle Crabaletta to strike him with a devastating roll to his back that sends him several feet across the dirt.

Surintendante Chevalmarin closes in slowly toward the hoarder in blue, unphased by a knife flying straight through her aqueous form. 

“Louie!” the hoarder cries, his hands shaking around his second knife, “We gotta dip, man!” 

Louie just barely manages to pry himself from Gentilhomme Usher, stumbling into the road, “Run, boys!!” 

Furina leaves the Salon to their performance, the sounds of the hoarder’s screams a delightful soundtrack as she focuses her attention back on retrieving the fruits. She climbs up the tree, her shoes struggling to find purchase on the smooth bark. Her muscles find the experience much less fun than she had originally imagined. Still, she manages to lift herself up the branches, limb by limb, until reaching the Bulle Fruits bundled near the top.

The sound dies down as the hoarders finally flee. As a mercy, the Salon returns to Furina, floating around the roots of the tree. Surintendante Chevalmarin ducks the basket handle under her neck and floats up to Furina. 

“Ah, thank you!” Furina grins, a little out of breath as she deposits the fresh fruit in the basket by the bundle of flowers. “You were all exquisite as always.” 

In the distance, she hears Louie unleash another shrill shriek. 

“W-what the hell?!”

“Hopefully that will teach them a lesson…” Furina says as she pats Chevalmarin’s head and begins to climb down. Her foot hangs down, realizing that it may be harder to get down carefully than it was to get up. Crabalatta floats under her shoe to give Furina another step down to reach the ground.

They dutifully escort her for the rest of her trip. With a nearly full basket and excitement still burning in her veins, Furina takes a small detour before they head back into town. She doesn’t feel like dismissing her Salon so soon, though she knows she will need to when she enters the Court of Fontaine. Despite how much better she’s getting at controlling her Vision, she doesn’t want to risk accidentally hurting anyone or damaging their property. 

Fontaine’s eternal waters lap upon the sandy shore just outside the Court of Fontaine. The beachline here was never as popular, especially since the meka-fish infestation took root. Maybe someday, Furina could help do something about that with her new powers.

She puts the basket down on a rock shelf by the water’s edge and skips out across the surface. The Salon eagerly follows her wake as she spins and bows before them.
She dances over the water, her steps leaving ripples as the fish swim curiously below. With a sigh, Furina begins to sing for no one but herself. 

“Le monde n'est qu'une scène. Il vaut mieux rire que pleurer, car le rire est le propre de l'homme.” With a flourish, she outstretches her arms to the sky, ”Riez de tout cela, ne vous inquiétez pas. Profitons d'aujourd'hui!” 

Furina allows herself to fall backwards onto the water, landing lightly on the top. The feeling is refreshing, the spray of calm waves brushing her skin. Though her powers kept her suspended above the surface, the moisture still threatened to soak her clothes if she lingered too long. Right now, it was the last thing on her mind, drifting in the catharsis and euphoria of simply being.

Days like this, Furina loves being alive. 

Gentillome Usher slaps her cheek. Furina huffs and sits up, “Ugh! Fine, fine, I’m done.” 

The Salon congratulates her finishing with her moment by nudging her up and back towards the shore. Furina stretches her limbs before leaning down to pick up her basket. She pauses, her hand hesitating over the top which was now closed. That is certainly not how she left the basket. 

She lifts the top and finds a clear container of crepes suzette resting atop her Bulle Fruits and Marcotte. Furina raises her gaze sharply, surveying the surrounding landscape. Blubber seals continue to loaf undisturbed as birds hop around the trees. 

The oddest part is that there are no footprints in the surrounding sand. It is as if someone had floated in and left the treats there. Of course, that makes no sense– unless her admirer possesses such abilities, perhaps from a Vision or such. Like how Furina can walk upon water, they can stride above… sand. 

Furina abandons the investigation as her stomach growls as if to remind her there is a perfectly good platter of treats for her pleasure. She moves the basket onto the sand so that she can sit on the rock instead, her legs hanging off the shelf. The Salon continues to guard her as she opens the container and inhales the sweet scent of the jam drizzled on the perfectly cooked crepe. 

She finds a folded letter tucked under the container and pries it open, anxious and excited to find what her “secret admirer” had to say this time. 

Furina,

Your radiance continues to outshine the stars above. I realize by now it must be unsettling to receive such gifts from an unknown. Though, after much consideration, I believe anonymity can serve us well.

I, too, must play a role, one which has enabled me to take care of the ones I love. While I perform this act flawlessly, there are times when it can be isolating… to the point that my loved ones do not even know me or the lengths that I have gone to in order to guarantee their happiness and safety. 

They are unaware that I enjoy the view of the night sky and of the ocean, that I am a fervent follower of the arts, or my interest in mechanics. It’s ironic, as these subjects are commonplace for a Fontainian– but that only exemplifies how alienated my role makes me. 

Switching my masks is something I’ve always done to survive. There is not a place for me in this world without it. Perhaps after so long, the character is as much me as I am. Surely you understand.

Here I put aside my mask, just for you. 

Peruere

Furina stops nibbling on the crepe, swallowing hard as she lowers the letter to her lap.

Peruere… Just who are you? 

It’s a lot to think about. That they speak of a role that so strongly controls their life reverberates strongly with Furina. Perhaps that is why they do things as strangely as they do– that deep longing for a connection with another who understands yet cannot threaten crumbling the very secret they’ve worked so hard to uphold. An impossible and contradictory desire…

Furina had told the Traveler once, people are just as afraid of intimacy as they are of being alone. And it’s true. It’s what holds Furina back from seeking a closer relationship despite her longing and it’s likely what motivates Peruere with these gifts that leave Furina without a way of reciprocating.

It’s just that Peruere makes her feel like her past is not something she needs to hide from. She can be appreciated entirely for every part of her without expectation. In all her previous daydreams, Furina had cast herself as someone who needed to become unknown before she could be seen as herself. But pretending the last five hundred years of her life never happened would just be putting on another charade. She never considered someone truly seeing her through the role she played. 

She finishes the last of the delicious dessert in silence, her mind replaying Peruere’s words as the tides continue to ebb and flow. 

What would she say even if she could speak to Peruere?

I see you. I appreciate your effort and kindness, even if no one else can.
Please stop sneaking snacks into my personal possessions. They are very delicious but I’d much rather have tea with you instead.

The mystery of Peruere becomes something of an obsession for Furina.

She regroups what clues she has from all the gifts she’s received over the past month, writing down a point in her notebook for each one.

• Peruere is a Fontainian. 
• They (well, she, if Peruere was the one who reserved the limited cake slice for me at Hotel DeBord) are some sort of instructor. 

Furina had first suspected Peruere was a theater teacher with the bundle from the children… but now she’s not so sure, as Peruere expressed that others did not know of their affection for the arts. 

• Can fly??? They have powers (A Vision holder?)
• Peruere has been to my shows. They seem to know everything that I’ve done, before and after the fulfillment of the prophecy. 

That fact in itself should be terrifying. Not even Clorinde and Navia know the full extent of Furina’s torment in those days. Meanwhile, Neuvillette and the Traveler share this subtle and sad look in their eyes when they speak to her. Furina had briefly considered the possibility of one of them as her admirer. They each play a role in their lives and know Furina well, yet the methods just didn’t line up with their modus operandis. 

Neuvillette is a very straight forward and frank man, if he had any sort of inclinations he would speak outright about it– probably with some sense of confusion, given his distinct otherness from humankind.

The Traveler is kind and dependable yet rarely has much to say. While Furina might even enjoy it if it really is the Traveler behind these strange gifts, she could tell their mind was already set on moving on to the next region in search of their erstwhile sibling. Not to mention, the Traveler did not have a host of young students or act as anything other than themselves. 

Navia is an interesting suspect if only because her role as the President of the Spina De Rosula means that she has the spies at her disposal to help her achieve the necessary information gathering and gift leaving… but at the same time, Navia is anything but subtle. Navia is the sort of person who would put on grand displays of her affection– which is likely only held at bay for the sake of not derailing the relationship she and Clorinde have carefully been rebuilding.

Clorinde knew Furina’s habits, preferences, and manner almost as well as Neuvillette from her time as Furina’s bodyguard. She was also very skilled due to her profession, though not as stealthy as she thought, considering Furina and Navia were both aware of when Clorinde spent her free time following Navia. Which is also to say that Clorinde was and is still quite fixated on Navia rather than Furina. 

Furina’s brows raise as her rumination brings her back to Peruere.

• Peruere’s profession must be a spy.

If Peruere is not someone Furina personally knows yet seems to know her– someone who can enter and leave scenes without notice and constantly wears a mask– What if Peruere is a member of the Special Security and Surveillance patrol? Furina covers her mouth as she gasps, “What if it’s Chevreuse?” 

She can’t stop the laugh that escapes after, running her fingers through her hair as she shakes her head. Chevreuse is an interesting character and she does strictly adhere to her role as Captain. Furina doesn’t quite know her that well to eliminate her as a suspect, though they did briefly spend some time together when Chevreuse went from arms instructor to lead actress of The Two Musketeers film. 

With no better idea in mind, Furina leaves her house and decides to seek Chevreuse out. If Clorinde was here, she would have likely given Furina a look that said “I told you so,” which, in Furina’s defense, she really didn’t want to have to press charges. Fortunately, her search ends rather quickly. She finds the Captain conversing with the infamous Thundering Seamstress at Cafe Lutece.

“Hello there!” Furina announces with a curtsy, “Sorry to interrupt. May I join you?” 

Chevreuse and Chiori exchange glances. They seem to have that thing that Clorinde and Navia have with nonverbal communication.

I wonder what that’s like. Neuvillette and I never interpreted each other’s body language correctly whenever we tried.

“Of course, Miss Furina,” Chevreuse replies.

Chiori just leans on her palm, stirring her tea idly. The Inazuman seems to be analyzing Furina with the most discerning gaze, it almost makes Furina feel uncomfortable. She’s relieved that she has nothing to hide anymore. 

Furina orders a cup of tea and a plate of Ile Flottante from Arouet before returning to the two stoic women’s table. She offers to share with them but they both look rather disinterested in the dish. Chiori tries a tiny bit and says the flavor is just a bit much for her palate. Chevreuse nods in agreement. 

They continue a discussion about Chiori’s latest success at Fashion week which Furina almost finds herself getting distracted by. She’s moved by the meaning behind Chiori’s brand– though she had been aware of the seamstress’ rising fame in Fontaine over the years, Furina had never paid attention to the woman herself. She would have to save a bit more before she commissioned a new outfit from the seamstress.

Chevreuse for her part seems only to retort in dry remarks, a subtle affection in the way she lightly scolds Chiori’s more harsh opinions. They are different from what Furina has observed in human interactions thus far, yet interesting all the same. 

Before she realizes it, the group is nearly finished with their drinks and their lunch break. Furina stands anxiously as they move to return their cups to Arouet. Chiori waves at Furina and pats Chevreuse’s shoulder before leaving back to her boutique.

“Chevreuse,” Furina utters as the Captain checks her own watch, “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?” She turns to meet Furina’s eyes.

“Have you heard of someone named Peruere?” 

Chevreuse tilts her head to the side, “No. Should I have? Has Peruere done something?” 

“Ahahahaa,” Furina laughs, “So you haven’t heard that name at all?” 

“No, I have not.” Chevreuse shifts and rubs her chin in contemplation, “I can’t recall that name being involved in any of my investigations.” 

“I suppose that’s a good thing. Thank you, Chevreuse! We should do this again sometime.” Furina says with a smile as she backs away from the now confused Captain. 

“Um, sure. If you’d like to, we can send you an invitation to an upcoming party. Chiori and Navia like to arrange those sometimes.” Chevreuse offers.

“Oh that-” Furina hasn’t been to a genuine party with friends since they celebrated the success of the film. If Navia was there, Furina would feel even safer about it. “That sounds wonderful! Thank you!” 

Furina strolls back home, happy from the oddly fruitful conversation. She is no closer to solving the matter of Peruere’s identity but she feels as if she has more people she could consider friends. 

Over the next few days, Furina tries to focus on her advising work. She’s gotten through a few of the proposals and even put in a formal request for making an adaptation of The Queen’s Crown. She has more than a few ideas of how it can be converted into a film. Maybe the hype could result in the long awaited sequel to debut. 

Far fetched maybe, but a girl can dream!

The week ends with a triumphant hurrah. Furina attends a showing at the Opera Epiclese by one of the troupes Furina spent the last month advising on art direction. It’s always satisfying to witness the culmination of all their combined effort. 

With all the changes Furina has experienced these past few months, she can’t say she minds the new seating. While the Archon’s seat that reigned high above the audience has been repurposed, Furina now has a regular seat on the 2nd floor balcony. It’s among several couches that line the sides of the Opera Epiclese. Closer to the audience, yet still an exclusive VIP loge. Each of the couches have a golden name plaque dedicated to a famous performer. 

The plaque on Furina’s seat read:

Dedicated to Furina de Fontaine,
The Greatest Star of All Time. 

Honestly, it is a bit embarrassing, but Furina does enjoy having the booth seat. Neuvillette had told her to consider it a reward for her tireless work over the centuries. It’s almost hard to believe that Furina’s immortality was finally gone. If this is the mark she leaves on the world after she passes, she supposes it’s an adequate one. The couch is large enough to fit three people. Without Neuvillette or Clorinde the accompanying seats always remain empty.

It’s during the interlude that she notices the vacant cushion next to her is not so vacant after all. There is a platter of Blubber Profiterole and another note. Furina’s eyes widen. When during the play did Peruere deliver this? Her cheeks burn as she glances around the theater loge. 

Her fingers drum aimlessly on her thighs before she grabs the platter and letter. Surely she still has enough time during the interlude to indulge. The heavenly dessert makes her tap her feet on the lacquered floor in delight. The cream filling alighting all her taste buds. 

Oh, how Peruere spoils her… not that Furina minds at this point. She licks her fingers with a happy chuckle before popping another profiterole into her mouth.

Dearest Furina,

As I walk upon this cruel world, I can’t help but think of how enchanting it would be if you were there. 

The Dandelion Sea of Mondstadt, the towering Karsts of Liyue, the lightning capped mountains of Inazuma, the glowing Mawtiyima forest of Sumeru, the auroras of Snezhnaya, and the hot springs of Natlan… You should see them all someday, at least once. 

If things were different, I would like to take you there. Anywhere and everywhere you desire. There are so many novelties and festivals among the other nations I would share with you. 

I must leave Fontaine soon for business. As a result, I will no longer be able to send you gifts. I hope they have brought you some measure of comfort.

Yours, 

Peruere

Furina frowns, the last Blubber Profiterole held between her trembling fingers. The warmth she felt turns cold. Not even the dessert fills the void rapidly growing in her gut.

Peruere’s leaving…?

She struggles to concentrate on the rest of the performance. 

The troupe finishes strong, following the suggestion Furina had given them for the finale. The colored lighting lends perfect emphasis on the emotion portrayed in the song, the melody powerful and clear on the Nightwind Horn. And the audience agrees, the entire Opera House echoing with cheers and applause. 

Furina’s mind keeps wandering back to Peruere with strange urgency. She doesn’t want Peruere to leave. Not yet– not until she finds them.

What kind of story would this be if the audience is left without closure? Furina huffs as she walks out of the Opera Epiclese, No, no, this won’t do at all. 

It’s time I take some drastic measures.

Sedene stares blankly at Furina as she stands at Palais Memoria’s front desk.

“Lady Furina, you don’t live here anymore.”

Furina scoffs, “I know that! I’m here to see Neuvillette. Is he in currently?” 

“Monsieur Neuvillette is booked all week. If there is a matter you require his assistance with, please fill out an application and submit it to the appropriate Gestionnaire.”

Furina lets out another frustrated huff and stomps off towards Neuvillette’s office. 

“Lady Furina, you can’t just barge in.” Sedene states monotonously. Despite her protest, she makes no actual effort to stop Furina. Formalities, probably. That and it was far from the first time that Furina had decided to invite herself into Neuvillette’s office… even if she no longer has the clearance. 

The office is empty, much to Furina’s displeasure. She briefly considers leaving him a note with her request– better than leaving it with a Gestionnaire in any case. Furina would really prefer to talk about it, though. 

She taps her foot impatiently and scans the trial records that lined his bookcase. If Neuvillette isn’t here… then maybe he’s at the gate to the Fortress of Meropide. That man has a strange obsession with the current Duke.

Just as Furina makes up her mind to take the Navia line to go check, Iudex Neuvillette enters the room. 

“Oh, Neuvillette! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Miss Furina, for what reason did you upset the Gestionnaires and Sedene’s work today?” Neuvillette replies. He pauses and reconsiders his words as he rests his cane, “What I mean to say is… Miss Furina, it is a pleasure to see you again. What may I assist you with?” 

“Oho, that's more like it!” Furina grins, outstretching her arms. Maybe if they were normal in any sense, she would have hugged him. He seems to lean back at the very gesture. Instead, Furina tugs the cuff of his coat. “It’s great to see you too. I have a little bit of a mystery I’ve been trying to solve and I was hoping you might be able to help.”

“What is troubling you?” 

Furina shifts her weight anxiously before reaching into her coat chest pocket and drawing a letter. She almost hands it to him, but flushes red and jams it back in her pocket.

“Aha wrong one!” She draws a smaller card from the pocket and shyly hands it to him. “Um, please take a look at the handwriting of this. Does it look familiar to anything you’ve seen?” 

Neuvillette studies the card carefully. It’s the first piece of writing she received from Peruere.

“It does remind me of something… Though, I’ve read so many requests over the years I cannot recall where specifically.” He clears his throat, “Do you receive many notes of this kind? And keep them all in your pocket?”

“T-They’re important to me!” A flustered Furina protests, “Look, they are all signed by a Fontainian named Peruere. Does that name mean anything to you?” 

“Hmm…” He turns away and slowly walks towards his grand window.

Furina holds her breath in anticipation. 

“I’m afraid not. How important is it for you to find this person?”

“Aha… Really important.” Furina admits.

His gaze is piercing, boring deep into her eyes before falling on the lapel of her coat where she is holding the letters. “Very well, Miss Furina. I shall peruse the records for any mention of a Fontainian named Peruere. For the sake of comparison, may I keep this note as evidence?”

A grimace flashes briefly over Furina’s expression before she smiles and nods, “Yes, of course. Thank you, Neuvillette. I will find a way to repay you.”

“No need, Miss Furina.”

Furina pauses by the doorway before turning back to him, “We should have tea again sometime! Let me know when you’re free!” 

A small smile appears on his lips, “Unfortunately, Miss Furina, the scant time I do have for tea has been preserved by a certain aficionado. You are welcome to join us if you are so inclined.” 

“Um, yeah! Sure thing, just let me know.” Furina waves and steps out, paying no mind to Sedene’s glare.

It’s kind of weird to see Neuvillette like that. But it is nice to know he’s finally allowing himself to get close to someone– a human, no less. Perhaps, centuries old as we are, we’re still learning to grow.

Outside the building, she watches the other humans walking by. Although Furina has always been “human” in a sense, she still feels different than one, if only because of the toll five hundred years takes on a person’s psyche. She hears a familiar voice a few meters away. A bulky man with a heavily bandaged arm in a sling is arguing with a newspaper vendor.

Isn’t that the Treasure Hoarder from the other day? What happened to his arm? The Salon didn’t rough him up that badly.

Then he makes eye contact with her, his expression shifting to terror. He shrieks, causing the vendor to flinch. Furina isn’t sure what to make of the scene, smiling awkwardly as everyone turned to look. He scrambles away and nearly trips over a Garde dog as the vendor yells at him for not paying. It seems a man like that would be better off in the Fortress of Meropide. 

Pauleau is pacing again. Furina shoos him away with a disapproving frown.

“You’re stressing out far too much, ma ami. It’s going to bring a dreadful atmosphere to the set.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, It’s just nerves.”

Furina snaps her fingers in front of his face, “Come now, it will be alright.”

The Little Oceanid is going to be adapted into a film. It was a popular subject during the Fontinalia Festival– as kamera technology and techniques evolved, people were eager to make adaptations of beloved books and plays. To Furina, it was not enough to simply make a film, it needed to do the source material justice while expanding on the strengths of the new artform. Several investors had sought out Furina and Pauleau in regards to The Little Oceanid, as the rights officially belonged to the troupe. 

Could she do it?

That was not a concern to Furina, her only stipulation to Pauleau was that all of the original troupe members also wanted a film adaptation. It took weeks before they received everyone’s agreement. Then the two proceeded to argue back and forth over what parts of the script would have to be tweaked for the new format. Once that was agreed on, Furina personally scouted out locations to use and had to seek out technicians to join their film crew. It had all been a headache to sort out.

Today the cast and crew are to meet at Marcotte Station at 5am for their first day on set. Furina’s plan was to focus on getting through as much of Dulphy’s scenes as possible. Everything would be cut together in post production after. 

She was still negotiating with the Salon to act out a few of the oceanid scenes so the cast could voice over them. The problem is that they have no interest in mora. Or desserts. 

As the group convenes, Furina guides them towards the Opera Epiclese to the south eastern path that diverges from the Fountain of Lucine. They could stage the meeting scene on the southern shores and work their way towards the Weeping Willow of the Lake. 

It’s a long and arduous trek for the group. They have to take several breaks on account of their gear and to keep the cast from getting over exerted. While they also had valid concerns about their safety beyond the Court of Fontaine’s gates, Furina reassured them that she could protect them. 

Because that's a thing she can actually do now. 

She takes pride in having the power to back the words up, her Salon members floating around them protectively. 

It’s a few hours into the afternoon when they reach the Weeping Willow of the Lake.

“We’re here! Let's set up the tent and rest for a bit.” Furina calls, gesturing to a flat grassy area before the lake.

Dauphy is enthralled by the majesty of the blue trees that grow in and around the lake as Ludwick stands beside her. Such an incredible place existing just a hike away from the city seems surreal to them. Some of the crew chatter about the old stories of Lochknights who must have come to this lake long ago.

Buraud helps to stake the ground and assemble the large tent while Pauleau unfolds the chairs they brought. Inside the cooler, a layer of sandwiches and several bottles of water rested on a bag of mist flower corollas. Elain begins distributing them to the crew.

Furina walks along the lake’s edge. She bends to pick a single Lakelight Lily and slowly turns it between her fingers, a soft smile on her lips. It’s fondly familiar to Furina despite the fact that this flower rarely if ever makes it to the Court of Fontaine’s markets.

Maybe it was Foçalors favored flower too. Well, anyways, it’s pretty. 

A loud splash makes Furina look up. 

Geese squawk angrily as they swim away from the disturbance… which appears to be a boy with a diving helmet. His foot is still partially submerged in the water, frozen under Furina’s gaze. 

Then she notices the box on the shore next to him. 

“...”

“Freminet?” Brows furrowed in confusion, Furina’s eyes still flickering between the unassuming box and the boy, “What are you doing here?”

A gift… Peruere. Was Freminet Peruere?

“Uh, hi.” He waves awkwardly, shifting to rest more of his weight on the foot sinking into the water, “I was just. Um…”

No, Freminet didn’t match Peruere at all. He was just a timid boy. 

No, nonono, the connection was-

Images flash through Furina’s mind like a dam breaking forth. Burning red irises piercing through the darkness with fearsome intent. Ashen hair and a sharp white coat wrapped around a sinister entity Furina had tried hard to forget. Black and red nails sliding over her tea table, nudging plates of her favorite desserts towards her while her words threaten to tear her every secret apart.

“Freminet,” she enunciates carefully, rising nausea making her tremble, “did your Father send this?” 

He jolts at the title, despite his face covered, Furina is sure he’s also filled with terror. But Furina feels more than terror, she feels furious.

“S-Sorry Miss- I mean- Furina! I’m on the clock!” The boy stumbles over his words in a rush while waving his hands. He leaps into the water, availing himself to the underwater current.

Furina is left alone in silence. 

She exhales shakily and torpidly approaches the box. Mechanically, she returns to the crew and sits in her director’s chair, the words of the troupe drowned out by the thoughts churning in her mind. It is only due to centuries of acting that they don't realize she’s on the verge of collapsing in on herself, her hands quivering as they open the water sealed box. 

She pulls out a container of Coffee Bavarois. The presentation is a little muddled but considering how it was delivered, Furina can forgive the transgression. She digs a spoon into the desert and brings it to her lips. The silky and light texture spark delight across her tongue despite the way the rest of her mind has gone numb. 

She shuts down and ruminates on the flavors, not so overbearing despite being made of coffee yet refreshing and gentle to the palate.

When the dessert is finished, she returns to the world again. The crew seems to be finished with their lunches and they only had a few more hours of sunlight. Furina puts the empty container back down into the box. Her hand hesitates over the letter that sat inside. She takes a deep breath and tucks the letter into her breast pocket for later. She needs to focus on the film first. 

She can break down later when she’s behind closed doors. 

Dearest Furina, 

You have been searching for me. 

While I respect your decision and the initiative shown in finding the truth… It is ill-advised. Innocent curiosity can lead to dangerous places. I cannot promise you will like what you find. The last thing I want is for you to be hurt or upset again.

Some doors once opened can never be closed again. My adoration should be of no consequence to you. As this foolish dream ends, would it not be better to let this play close on a high note? 

However, if this is truly what you desire. I will grant your wish.

Yours, 

Peruere

Lying on her bed, Furina stares at the ceiling. Part of her wants to crumble the letter, to tear it into shreds and burn it into ashes. Instead it lays unfurled on her chest, rising and falling slowly with each of her breaths. 

Has this all been some sick trick?

The overwhelming exhaustion that washes over Furina is nearly as heavy as it was following the flood. 

She’s tired. 

She doesn’t want to be here.

She doesn’t want to play this part anymore.

Furina’s movements are still sluggish the following day. Sleep had only brought nightmares of the Knave, hovering over her with claws pressing against her abdomen. 

“What do you want ?”

The Knave never answers, her claws never piercing Furina’s skin. Suspended in that single moment of fragility and entirely at her mercy. 

The anger begins rising in Furina, the balance inside her tilting between rage and sadness.

I’ll never be that weak again. 

She paces her apartment restlessly, threatening to wear holes in her carpeting. With a furious exhale, she storms up to her desk. Furina throws the letters onto the surface and swipes her notebook up.

• Peruere is a Fontainian.
• They (well, she, if Peruere was the one who reserved the limited cake slice for me at Hotel DeBord) are some sort of instructor to children. 
• Can fly??? They have powers (A Vision holder?)
• Peruere has been to my shows. They seem to know everything that I’ve done, before and after the fulfillment of the prophecy. 
• Peruere’s profession must be a spy. 
• They have traveled across the seven nations for business. 

She hits the notebook against her head with a loud groan. It is actually so obvious that Furina wants to scream. The Knave has been the most likely answer all along. It was only by Furina’s pure denial that she shut the possibility from her mind entirely.

Why would it be the Knave?

From everything Furina knows of the Lord Harbinger, she acts with precise and calculated ruthlessness. Furina did not have anything any more. What could she possibly gain from sending these gifts to Furina? 

Curse Furina’s insatiable curiosity, she really did want to find out who that admirer could be. Had a threat been intended… the notes would have been far less soothing. Not to mention Furina could have easily been poisoned–she really can’t resist her favorite sweets.

The only other motive is that the Knave– that Peruere actually means the words she sent. 

Furina is not sure which is worse. 

“Father’s way of expressing love is not easy for most to accept… I think Father prefers to give gifts rather than receive them.”

My adoration should be of no consequence to you. 

It’s true… Regardless of how Furina feels about Peruere’s identity, the deliveries are going to stop. Peruere would be leaving Fontaine and Furina would never have to worry about the Knave darkening her doorstep again. She had given Furina an out, all she has to do is let go.

But if she lets go of Peruere… she will be alone again. 

A knock at her door seems to disagree, making Furina jump. Then she recognizes the firm tap to be that of Neuvillette from when he used to retrieve her from her room at the Palais Mermonia. 

She opens the door and is relieved to see the Iudex of Fontaine standing there, despite how odd he looks outside her humble apartment door frame. Overhead, the skies are dark and threaten to pour. 

“Miss Furina.” He speaks with restrained urgency, “I have found information on Peruere. She is-” 

“The Knave,” Furina finishes, leaving the Iudex stunned. 

“You… already knew?” 

Furina sighs and gestures for Neuvillette to enter her home. “I suspected as much. After gathering all the evidence, it’s a little too obvious. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have deduced it much sooner.” 

He appears almost comically tall in comparison to the regular ceiling of her apartment. Most of the settings she’s seen him in had tall or multi-level ceilings. Neuvillette sits at her tea table, resting his cane against his knee as he pulls out two documents and the card Furina lent him. 

“In that case, allow me to present my findings.” He says gravely. 

Furina pours a glass of water for them both. She sits in a slouch opposite of him, propping an arm on the table and burying her fingers in her frazzled hair. 

“This is a legal proposal Lord Arlecchino submitted recently in regards to amnesty for ex-members of the House of the Hearth. As you can see, the penmanship is an exact match.”

Furina stares mutely at the note overlapped with the thick multi-paged document. It was indeed a match to the sections in Arlecchino’s writing. 

“Wait-,” Furina tilts her head slightly, “What do you mean about amnesty?”

Neuvillette clears his throat, “To put it simply, the Knave has found a way to give the orphans of the Hearth a way out of the Fatui. They are reported dead to the organization and expelled from the House of the Hearth. In exchange for decreased Fatui operations in Fontaine, I have agreed to grant those orphans amnesty and safety.”

“She did that?” Furina’s voice barely above a whisper, “but why?” 

Neuvillette wears a contemplative expression as he reviews the meeting in his mind. Finally, he says, “If nothing else, the wellbeing of those children genuinely matter to her.” 

He flips to the second document, “This document is from ten years ago. It records a prisoner transfer from Fontaine to Snezhnaya.” He pauses to take a sip of water. “An orphan from the House of the Hearth has confessed to matricide. Given the deceased’s ties to Snezhnaya, the Fatui have requested Peruere be tried in the court of the Tsaritsa rather than that of Foçalors.” 

Furina pulls the document closer and reads over the arrangement. Hotel Bouffes d'ete, 7 registered inhabitants, 10 less than previous year. No records of adoption. 

Furina had visited the Hotel Bouffes d'ete once maybe 25 years ago. She vaguely remembers the previous Knave. That Arlecchino had wine red hair and a painted smile. It claimed to be an orphanage, yet she recalled no laughter in the halls or any children at all. Thinking back on it now, it was like a vacant stage, everything on presentation simply props to sell the story. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“Huh?” Furina turns her gaze back to the Iudex, “What do you mean?”

“Your expression. You’re blaming yourself again.” 

Furina frowns and shakes her head, “I just wish I could have done better for Fontaine. I knew there was something off about the House of the Hearth.” 

“Diplomatic immunity,” Neuvillette replies with a sad smile, “There was nothing we could have done.” 

“Perhaps this is what drives so many to take Justice into their own hands…” Furina mutters.

His expression hardens, turning his intense gaze back towards the documents. 

They sit in silence for a long moment. Rain makes trails on the windows as it patters outside. Furina and Neuvillette both have witnessed the multitude of cases that flowed through the court.

Right, Furina thinks, Wriothesley had also pleaded guilty of murder decades ago.

He had killed his foster parents. They were a pair of cruel people who took in children to sell for profit and disposed of whomever stood in their way. She suspects Neuvillette is thinking of him now, or perhaps others from centuries past who committed crimes for the sake of true justice. How often has Neuvillette blamed himself for the failings in Fontaine’s legal system?

“Miss Furina, will you be alright?” 

“Yeah,” She taps her fingers on the card between the two documents, “I’ll be fine.”

“I could have the Maison Gardiennage increase their patrols around your home. Or, if you would prefer, we could bring the Knave in for questioning.” 

“That won’t be necessary, Neuvillette.” 

“Are you certain? Whatever the reasoning, the Knave is undoubtedly a killer. Do you recall the Tartuffe assassination? Or the massacre at the Lefevere estate? She’s extremely dangerous and… unrepentant.”

“Yeah. I know, Neuvillette,” Furina murmurs, still fixated on the words written on the card, “You don’t have to worry. She doesn’t want to hurt me. If she wanted to kill me she would have done it already.” 

Emotions threaten to overpower Furina as she is at odds with logic and her own sanity. It's so difficult to reconcile the cold and fearsome Knave with the warm and sweet Peruere. 

How could they possibly be one and the same? 

Peruere did write of having to portray a role, one that’s bled into her soul. Furina just never imagined it would be one that brought such dread. Arlecchino, the Knave, Harbinger… these were all just grand titles and responsibilities that were passed from another. 

Was there ever a choice?

The Knave could have killed Furina easily that night, yet she did not– likely because she realized at that moment that Furina was not an Archon. In just a mortal instant, Arlecchino had seen through agonizing centuries of performance, right to the ugly and simple truth of her. 

Part of her always wondered why Arlecchino didn’t kill her. 

When would Arlecchino change her mind and finish her off? 

Yet now she says it with a certain undeniable confidence, “She doesn’t want to hurt me.” 

She didn’t kill her because she didn’t need to.

Arlecchino tended to murder vile people who evaded the law. Tartuffe stole money from charities while enslaving children he claimed to be saving. Lefevere was a pedophile who frequented trafficking rings at his leisure. Each time, the gruesome murders had revealed nothing of the killer and everything about the victim’s heinous crimes. 

Like an angel of death, she carried out swift and brutal sentences. The only real death penalty of Fontaine. 

And she judged Furina innocent. 

Then there were the tea parties. Furina had gone against Neuvillette’s advice to meet with the Knave. Furina was terrified of what Arlecchino would do with what she knew. She needed to know what her demands were. Money? Power? 

No.

Arlecchino pushed and argued for the sake of saving Fontaine and her children, which, while harsh, was not something Furina could really hold against her. Furina is not fool enough to deny that many more Fontainians would have dissolved if not for Arlecchino’s efforts. What Furina despised about the situation is that no matter how much she wanted to say it or defend herself she couldn’t do it without exposing her secret. 

How many times had she been forced to bite her tongue, giving shallow promises that she could only hope were not lies? 

At the end of it all, Furina was condemned before all of Fontaine while Arlecchino was granted the highest honor. The beloved fraudulent Archon and the despised heroic Harbinger, such grand paradoxes.

Protagonist, deuteragonist, antagonist– they have played it all in this game, but the roles could only be assigned according to the perspective of the audience. 

it all makes sense, if they were all but players on the stage. Peruere played her role and Furina played hers. 

But that show is over now. 

Furina goes to Poisson after a day of advising ends. 

The people still glare at her, yet it is the least of her concerns at the moment. She makes haste towards the flagship of the Spina, hoping to seek Navia’s council. Two of the Spina’s guards bar her way upstairs, their expressions masked by their hats and large black sunglasses. 

“Appointments only,” one of the guards grunts. 

Furina rolls her eyes, “Just let Navia know that I need to see her. I don’t mind waiting.” 

The guards exchange a glance before one nods and goes to inform Navia.

Furina stands near the edge of the boat, overlooking the town. It really does look like it’s been improving greatly, less pulled together by scrap and sturdily built. There are several pneumousia blocks in place as well as a path leading deeper into the ground. That must be the new tunnel system to Flueve Cendre Navia had mentioned.

“Miss Furina,” The guard sneers, “Lady Navia will see you now.” 

“Why, thank you,” Furina replies, pushing her way past him and up the stairs. 

“Furina!” Navia calls from the top, waving excitingly, “You’re just in time for tea!”

“You know me, I’m always prepared for tea time!” 

Navia laughs as she slips an arm around Furina’s shoulders and leads her inside. 

“While I’m happy to see you, what brings you to Poisson?”

Navia escorts her to take a seat as she sets out her famous macarons and pours tea for them both. Furina had been trying to put that answer into words since she left her house that morning. 

“I don’t know, I’ve been thinking a lot about something and I thought maybe you could help.” 

Navia winks as she puts her hat aside, “My advising services are severely underutilized. Fire away.” 

Furina glances around the room. Normally she met with Navia at the Hotel DeBord or at Clorinde’s. Navia’s home is much more homely despite the grandeur associated with the Caspar name. Photos and sketches line the walls featuring Spina members and Navia’s family alike. 

Wait, is that Clorinde as a child?

She clears her throat as she turns back to Navia, “Well… It’s pretty personal.” 

“Go on,” Navia encourages before taking a bite of one of her macarons. 

“How were you able to forgive Clorinde?” 

“Oh. That sort of personal…” 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you’re uncomfortable. I’m just struggling with how to… reconcile the facts I know about someone.” 

“No, no, it’s alright. Just give me a moment.” Navia casts her gaze to the photos that decorated her walls. Stories weaved in and out like threads between each image, a language lost to all but Navia and Clorinde. 

“I would say it’s a case by case basis. For Clorinde and I… It hurt for a long time. After everything regarding the circumstances of my father’s death came to light, I suppose it helped me come to terms with the fact that Clorinde’s hands were tied. It’s clear that she didn’t want things to turn out the way they did. As much as I’ve replayed it in my mind trying to think of some other way or where to shift the blame, I’ve had to accept that we can’t change the past. We can only choose how to move forward.” 

“I understand.” Furina takes her time to digest both Navia’s words and her own plate of macarons. The contrast of the delightful treats helps balance the weight of the heavy topics. Or that might just be Furina’s opinion– she’s never asked anyone if that’s a normal human coping mechanism. “Does it ever bother you that Clorinde has killed several people?” 

“When we were young we used to romanticize the heroics of it. Be the strongest in Fontaine and become its very blade of justice!” The corner of Navia’s mouth twitches. She brushes back the hair from her neck as she leans against one hand. The answers are swirling around the contents of her tea cup if she peers hard enough. “Of course I don’t mind if it's a despicable scoundrel. But, with maturity, it’s clear that things are much less black and white than that. There are people like my father or those who bend the law to make things right… At the end of it, ending a life is never an easy matter. I trust Clorinde to use her skills for the right purpose.” 

“Trust… yeah, that’s pretty important. It never bothered me that Clorinde has killed because I trust she won’t kill me. Though, I suppose if I accepted the duel at court…” 

“Okay, my turn!” Navia interrupts while patting the table, “What on Teyvat does Clorinde have to do with your conundrum?” 

Furina shrugs, “Well, Clorinde did stalk you for a period.”

Navia’s mouth hangs open for a moment in shock. “Ugh, don’t remind me! Honestly, I know that was just her weird way of showing she cared but still…” 

“I see now. Thanks Navia. I’ve learned a lot.”

“You?- You see what? What exactly did you learn?” Navia gestures wildly, nearly knocking down her macaron stand. 

“The complexities of human relationships,” Furina murmurs thoughtfully. 

“Wait– I don’t think someone as emotionally constipated as Clorinde is a good example!” 

“She fits the criteria, don’t worry.” 

“What does that even mean?” Navia laughs. 

Furina can’t help but laugh too. “I suppose we’ll find out. But thank you, Navia, truly.” 

“Ah, any time. Since you’re here, I’d love to show you around my home!” 

“Ooh, please do!” Furina jumps up excitedly, trailing a hand along the table. She glances at Navia’s empty tiered macaron tray and a soft smile grows on her lips along with an idea. “Hey, Navia? If you have the time, I would love to bake some desserts with you.” 

By the end of the week, Furina is standing before the Hotel Bouffes d'ete, her basket laden with various cookies and baggies of Pate de Fruit. She takes a deep fortifying breath and reaches forward to knock.

The door swings open before she can make contact, revealing a surprised Freminet. 

“...” 

“Hey there, Freminet!” Furina recovers first, using her outstretched hand to wave before propping it on her hip, “what a pleasure to see you again.”

“Um, Hi M-Furina. What brings you here?”

“Oh, I was just. Well, returning the favor?” She offers up the basket of treats clutched in her other hand. “I made a bunch of cookies and gummies for everyone!”

Freminet hesitantly takes the basket with a small smile, “Thank you, Furina. We’re very grateful.” 

“Of course! Um, one more thing-” Furina coughs into her hand as she shifts her weight, pointedly averting her gaze from the front door. “Is your Father home?” 

“Oh, Father is-” 

Lynette steps out of the door next, nearly giving Furina another heart attack. She looks between Furina and Freminet, her feline ears twitching in intrigue. “Hello.”

“Furina brought us all treats.” Freminet supplies, lifting the basket in his arms. “She’s looking for Father.”

“How kind of you, Furina. Unfortunately, Father is currently overseeing matters at Lumidouce Harbor.”

Furina pulls out a letter stamped with her personal seal. She glances between the two siblings as she says, “I need this delivered to her today, can I trouble either of you to do so?”

They exchange looks to which Lynette immediately nods, “I’ll ensure it gets to Father.” 

“Thank you,” Furina smiles, though internally her anxiety is climbing.

There’s no turning back now.

Peruere, 

I used to spend hours fantasizing about what I would say to you if I could. 

Now that I’ve found you, I find myself struggling. I suppose you’ve always found a way to render me speechless. 

If you truly mean what you say, then by all means indulge my wish.
Come to my home tomorrow afternoon for tea. 

We have much to discuss. 

-Furina

Furina hopes the note gets lost.

She hopes Lynette forgets or accidentally drops it in a fountain. 

She hopes the Knave is too busy to acquiesce in her demand– that she reads it and dismisses Furina as a mistaken fool for sending her a letter intended for someone else. 

She considers calling Navia or Clorinde to join what was sure to be a twisted tea party, just so she has witnesses. That would defeat the point, though. It had to just be them. If anyone else were to be present, then there would be no Peruere– only Arlecchino.

It’s ironic… Furina used to fear being left alone with Arlecchino for the very same reason; she would pick Furina apart and pry her secret from behind her ribs. Now Furina wants to be seen, to be known– truly and entirely.

Furina wants to do the same to her. Dissect the Knave down to the marrow in her bones to put proof to the theory that is Peruere. 

It is simultaneously thrilling and anxiety inducing. The volatile combination threatens to dissolve her from the inside out.

After a restless sleep full of nightmares and an overwhelming feeling of dread, Furina goes through the motions of preparing a tea party. It has been a while since she formally held one. The decor and furnishing are far more humble than their previous encounters, yet she still endeavors to purvey an air of elegance.

A classic checked tablecloth carefully spread over the surface, adorned with fine porcelain and silverware. She makes a Pour la Justice as the centerpiece for the table with Conch Madeleines plated as an accent. Next is the placement of the teapot and their respective cups. 

The knock on the door feels like the toll of the bell.
Sure enough, infuriatingly on time, stands the Knave on her doorstep. The emotions Furina thought she had sorted out about this matter were frayed at the sight of her, the influx of fear and rage spiking over her anxiety. 

Lyney and Lynette are at the Knave’s sides. While the Knave and Lynette share a placid expression, Lyney is grinning like a cheshire cat. The twins present their Father by kneeling and waving their arms. Lynette even reaches into her hat and tosses confetti in the air to complete the bit. 

The Knave, for her part, looks very unenthused as the colorful flecks slowly drift down, some even finding their place on her person. Lyney pats her back with a soft laugh as those fiery red irises focus sharply on him. 

“We do this for everyone from the Hearth, you’re no exception Father.” 

“So this is your definition of family…” The Knave murmurs.

Furina shifts awkwardly as she leans against her door frame. She’s not sure what to make of the scene. The comical behavior of the twins somewhat easing the mess of emotions she feels at seeing the Knave again. 

“Um, hello. What a surprise to see you all here.” 

“I’m simply answering your summons, Furina.” The Knave replies. One of her hands remains behind her back as the other picks the confetti off her coat. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your invitation?” 

Even with the twins doing their best to embarrass Arlecchino, her figure is as imposing as ever as she towers over Furina. She bows courteously, some of the colorful flecks falling out of her ashen hair.

Reflexively, Furina’s hands ball into fists, yet she instinctively slips into the role, bowing in turn and welcoming the Knave inside. 

“Lord Arlecchino, I have some matters I should like to discuss with you in regards to the House of the Hearth’s recent activities. But first, shall we have tea?” 

“Of course,” The Knave smoothly replies, “I would be happy to discuss any matters that concern you.”

The last thing Furina sees before she shuts the door are a thumbs up from the twins. She shakes her head, wondering if part of this is their retribution for the time she put them on trial. Now Furina would be facing down her own kind of trial. 

She needs to determine once and for all Arlecchino’s intentions. With the way she feels watching that Harbinger walk unaffected into her home, all of this feels more and more like a joke. 

Of course. Arlecchino thrived off of knowing everything about her prey. She even cloyed Neuvillette over with Snezhnayan spring water! 

Furina smiles instead of glaring. Her eyes trace the Knave’s form entering her foyer and linger on the darkened hands which still lie hidden. 

“Lately I have been subject to many a gift in increasingly strange locations. Most of the time, these gifts seem to appear when I would appreciate them most, accompanied by refined penmanship,” Furina states evenly as she escorts Arlecchino inside her home. Past the foyer and living room to the meager tea table she has set up just by her kitchen. 

“After some thought, it’s become obvious that what ties it all together is you. You know my very high standards for desserts all too well, you revealed as much last we met.”

Furina pulls back the chair for Arlecchino, her well rehearsed smile still drawn across her lips.

Arlecchino’s expression remains frustratingly placid as if the accusation was a trivial matter. She shrugs and finally presents a familiarly wrapped box in her hands. More of Furina’s favorite truffles, she suspects. The delight and excitement sparked at the thought served to fuel the festering anger inside her more. 

How dare the Knave make her feel this way.

“It appears you’ve found me out,” the Knave says nonchalantly.

Furina grips the head of the chair tighter, indenting her fingers on the cushion.

“For what purpose?” Furina grits out. 

Instead of answering, Arlecchino unwraps the box and tucks the top under the tray, revealing a finer assortment than the last before placing it on the table.

Oh no, it's even better than I thought-

More than just truffles, at the center of the assorted chocolates are mini Fontinalia Mousse arranged in the shape of a heart. 

So maybe this isn’t Furina’s finest moment. 

She snaps. 

Furina bursts forward and crashes into Arlecchino, shoving her onto the floor. She straddles her, pinning her down against the cold marble and knitted rug while pounding a fist on the Harbinger’s chest.

“Why are you like this? Why do you insist on tormenting me like this? Was it not enough that you almost killed me? That– That you almost ruined everything I worked for for 500 years? And when I finally thought I could have-” 

Tears sting her eyes as she clutches the lapels of Arlecchino’s jacket. 

“Why can’t you let me live in peace?”

Arlecchino’s body remains immobile despite Furina knowing full well that she could overpower Furina easily should she feel the need. 

Instead, the Knave says, “It was not my intention to cause you such distress with my gifts. All I want for you is to have the peace, freedom, and happiness you’ve fought so hard for. I would have preferred to remain anonymous for both our sakes… but you’re too clever for that, aren’t you?” 

Now that Furina’s outburst has calmed, she sniffles as she stares down at her assassin turned admirer with a pout. 

“Why would you care?”

Arlecchino very carefully envelops one of Furna’s fists in her hand, the warmth of her touch bizarrely comforting. 

“I was the first to realize you bore a curse, that there was something more lurking beneath your guise. The truth of what you had to endure for the sake of Fontaine’s people and to avert the crisis profoundly moved me. I sincerely apologize for how much more difficult I made that role for you… and I want you to know that I respect you greatly. You never gave up. You saved my family. You deserve far more gratitude for the duty you fulfilled. That is why I care about you.” 

Furina ducks her head with another sniffle. What cruel irony it is to find the one who understands her most is only capable of doing so because she was once her quarry. The two faces of the Knave merge into one before her, the hunter and the writer. 

“Peruere…” Furina whispers, like a revelation or perhaps acceptance. 

Like a spell, the name causes Arlecchino’s impassive expression to soften, her brows drawing together ever so slightly as their eyes meet again. Arlecchino may be a good actor, a brilliant one even– but even she could break character. Furina’s uncovered hand rests pressed against a firm abdomen, her thumb brushing against one of the Knave’s lacquered buttons. A blush dusts her cheeks as Furina pulls her hands away and scrambles off of Arlecchino.

“I’m sorry for tackling you,” Furina murmurs as she offers Arlecchino a hand, “That was quite improper of me.”

Arlecchino takes her hand as she sits up, once again encompassing Furina skin in warmth. “It’s fine. I would not fault you if you would still desire revenge.”

“Let's just… um, start over.” Furina lets out a shakily sigh as she gestures to the table, “Tea? I made the desserts myself… I hope they are to your liking.”

A faint smile quirks on Arlecchino’s lips, “That sounds wonderful. I’m certain anything by your hand would delight me.”

Furina nods, a slight tremble to her hand as she lifts the teapot and pours a cup for Arlecchino before taking a seat, ignoring the furious blush making its way up her neck and ears. Arlecchino might just find a way to kill her yet. She glances at Arlecchino sheepishly as she tugs the box of truffles closer, dreadfully curious about the mini Fontinalia Mousses. 

A refreshing flavor bursts forth as soon as Furina’s teeth break the gelatinous skin of it, eliciting a groan of happiness. Her mind blanks out for a moment, so fixated on the incredible light texture and flavor in such a compact size. Then she remembers Arlecchino is sitting across from her, sipping tea. 

“I see that these treats have met your approval,” Arlecchino husks, a rather smug smile on her lips.

Furina clears her throat, forsaking a second mini mousse to pat her lips with a napkin. “Aha, yes, of course. Where do you find these little treasures?” 

“I do my research,” Arlecchino says proudly, “the very least I can do is ensure the quality of your desserts. I will compile a list for you of the confectioners I’ve sourced.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Furina feels herself blushing again, thinking back on all the desserts Arlecchino has sent her. While it was clear each one was carefully picked, the evidence of consideration made Furina feel special. She wonders what she can do to make Arlecchino feel special too. She’s inscrutable to most if not all who have encountered her. 

“So, um, Arlecchino. Tell me about yourself.” 

The Knave shrugs, “I’m like any other Fontainian. I have a great love of the arts, applied mechanics, the vast ocean, Furina de Fontaine-”

“Please,” Furina interrupts, the blush searing her entire face, “be honest.” 

“I am not lying.”

“Neither are you telling the truth,” Furina retorts, pointing a finger at her. 

“Is that so?” 

Narrowing her eyes at her companion for a moment, Furina crosses her arms and leans back, “How about this: I tell you what I know about you and you tell me what you know about me?”

“Acceptable. Do enlighten me.” 

Furina huffs, sensing the challenge in Arlecchino’s words.

“Your name is Peruere, you were once an orphan at the House of the Hearth until you killed the previous Knave and were sent to Snezhnaya for trial. Some time between then and now, you’ve assumed the mantle of the Knave and have used that position to change the House of the Hearth for the betterment of the children.”

Furina leans on her fist as she mentally reviews the documents Neuvillette showed her. “You work for the Tsaritsa, yet your real loyalty is to those kids. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have found a way to safely remove them from the ranks of the Fatui. And you… you don’t kill unless you actually have to.” 

Arlecchino raises her brows, seemingly impressed, “Do you think that makes me a good person?” 

“I’m not sure,” Furina admits, “but I wanted to find out.”

With a hum, Arlecchino traces the curve of a Conch Madeline in her palm. Her touch is careful, leaving the treat intact as she contemplates. Furina has found that the Knave is a character filled with paradoxes. A duality of tenderness and brutality. Though now that fear and anger no longer cloud Furina’s perception, she can’t help but acknowledge how handsome the woman looks. Arlecchino wears refined masculinity like an artform. Even her feminine features serve to enhance the severity of her angles to a knife edge.

Furina braces herself, unsure how she will handle what the Knave has to say about her. Even if this is what she had wanted, to finally be unveiled, she is afraid of being misunderstood. Or that her insecurities have been right all along, her person is not nearly enough at all. 

“Furina de Fontaine,” Arlecchino begins with a drawl, “you’ve lived for centuries as a beloved star and the God of Justice, Foçalors. And yet, you’ve only recently had the opportunity to live as yourself. Tasked with an impossible mission, to defy fate and Celestia itself, you persevered at the cost of everything. You were willing to kill yourself on stage for them and they never even really knew you. That you are vibrant, proactive, and filled with curiosity and love. Now that you can live on your terms, you still find ways to help others, because that is what makes you most happy.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Furina whispers.

“Yes. And I think it’s much better on you than that old title.” 

She scoots her chair closer to Arlecchino and reaches up to touch her face. Cupping her cheek, a thumb brushes over her lips and lingers there. Then Furina moves forward and kisses her thumb. 

She pulls back as if amazed, like she walked through fire and emerged unscathed. Grinning proudly, Furina stands by her seat with her hands propped on her hips.

Arlecchino’s brows furrow as she stares at her in bewilderment, “What was that? A… stage kiss?”

“Well, I thought the scene called for a kiss.” Furina replies, gesturing her arms, “I’ve only ever done stage kisses but– I’m quite good at it!” 

Arlecchino’s nose crinkles slightly as she releases a chuckle, “So that’s the way of it? I can’t say I’m much better. I’ve only kissed a girl once before, when I was sixteen. It was not a very illuminating experience.” 

“I suppose more research is required,” Furina murmurs, rubbing her chin in thought. “We can figure it out.”

“Uh,” Arlecchino flounders in uncharacteristic confusion, “What do you mean? You would take me as your lover?”

“Oh! I, um. I-if you want to? That is what people do when they like each other… right?” Furina’s voice becomes quiet, the anxiety returning to her. 

She had thought that if she found Peruere in time, and if she was as genuine as Furina thought then Furina could keep her somehow. But Arlecchino still had to leave Fontaine for business– still had her duty to fulfill.

“I mean… I want to be closer to you. Now that I’ve found you I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I admit I did not plan for this,” Arlecchino states, bridging her hands on the table. “I do not have a lot of experience in this regard and despite my affection for you, I sincerely believe you deserve someone who can give you all that you deserve. I’m not…”

‘Enough’ remains unsaid, and Furina realizes Arlecchino’s hesitation is born of the same insecurities Furina has struggled with for so long. To appear a complete picture on the outside, yet feeling stitched together and insufficient within. She steps into Arlecchino’s space again, this time resting a hand on the Harbinger’s shoulder. 

“I’m not expecting you to know how to do this,” Furina reassures her. “We can learn together.” 

“I… I would like that,” Arlecchino says just above a whisper. Her gaze is intense as her voice becomes firm, “but I must warn you: entangling yourself with the House of the Hearth will paint a target on your back. My enemies will attempt to hurt you to get to me. And the Fatui will come after you if they think you know their secrets.” 

Furina matches her intensity, squeezing her shoulder as she says, “I can protect myself… and I’m very good at keeping a secret.” 

As she holds her stare, she feel’s Arlecchino slowly press a hand against her back and tug her closer, darkened fingers wrapping around her hip and holding her securely. 

“Very well. We have an agreement, then.” 

“Why does this feel like a business negotiation?”

“I’m very good at those,” Arlecchino smirks. 

Furina scoffs, affection filling her chest. She wraps her arms around Arlecchino’s shoulders and hugs her. She relaxes entirely, tucking her face against the Knave’s neck with a sigh. She smells nice, like smoked firewood and hints of Rainbow Rose, not something Furina would have thought about before. Now it seems rather fitting. 

Arlecchino hesitates for a moment before slipping her other arm around her and embracing her. It’s very subtle, but Furina feels the way Arlecchino’s body slowly releases its tension. It’s hard to imagine such a fearsome Harbinger could also be afraid.

She’s so warm and comfortable. 

Furina thinks if she holds her for too long she will fall asleep, which quite frankly would be embarrassing. She pries herself away from the other woman and returns to her seat, immediately missing the feeling of her strong arms. 

The rest of the tea party proceeds amicably. They have a delightful intellectual discussion of various plays, novels, and the upcoming show at the Opera Epiclese. Furina invites Arlecchino to attend it with her, afterall, she has prime reserved seating and plenty of space for a companion. Arlecchino will meet with her the following night and they will make their way to the opera house together. 

And if Furina feels a little too excited about the prospect of a proper date, she manages to keep her composure until after Arlecchino bids her farewell.