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i. Clorinde and Navia, the Two Fiercest Adversaries in ALL of Fontaine!
La Gouttiere
It’s been many years since the original trial of Callas the Unfaithful, and a substantial amount of time has passed since the shocking new verdict that professed his innocence and sent ripples throughout the very fabric of Fontainian society.
Lies were uncovered, truths were revealed, and new players entered into the tumultuous game filled with many unexpected twists and turns. But in the end, Callas the Unfaithful was no longer as the spotlight shone the brightest on Mister Vacher, the true culprit of the crime and mastermind behind the serial disappearances of women case.
Despite the theatrics of it all, Fontaine had moved on—that is, for the most part. Not the same could be said for the two emerging stars of the play we call life: Navia Caspar, the president of the Spina di Rosula and Champion Duellist Clorinde.
The animosity between Caspar and the Champion Duellist within those three years is well known amongst the Fontaine populace. The source of Miss Navia’s seemingly one-sided vitriol toward Miss Clorinde is speculated to have been caused by the fact that it was Miss Clorinde’s blade who ended Callas the Unfaithful’s life, who is notably Miss Navia’s father.
With the newfound evidence that confirmed the innocence of the late Callas and the final verdict declaring Mister Vacher guilty of the crimes that Mister Callas was framed to have committed, you would think that this would catalyse the reconciliation between these two former best friends (according to a reliable source). However, photographed in an isolated corner of the Fleuve Cendre undergrounds are two figures resembling Miss Navia, and Miss Clorinde exchanged in a solemn conversation that does not seem cordial in the slightest.
According to witnesses, brutal words were exchanged between the pair as the two sides tried to remain as composed as possible. One source alleges that they heard Navia threatening Clorinde by diminishing her strength and achievements, while another saw her tug the Champion Duellist out of the Spina di Rosula bar. Whatever it is that happened between them, one thing is clear: the scars of the past cannot be erased overnight, and Miss Clorinde will have to work hard to regain Miss Navia’s trust.
If she can at all.
The Champion Duellist and the Spina di Rosula president.
If you asked the people of Fontaine what they thought of Navia and Clorinde on an individual level, then you’d be met with an overwhelming sense of praise—perhaps a comment about Navia’s handling of the rebuilding of Poisson or a comment on Clorinde’s prowess as the number one Champion Duellist in all of Fontaine. There’s the occasional indifference here and there, and on the rare occasion (emphasis on rare), there were a few souls brave enough to express a sort of… Discontent with them.
However, it’s a completely different story if you ask the people of Fontaine what they think of them as a pair. By the end of it all, you’d be forgetting that Navia and Clorinde are two highly regarded figures in Fontainian society when the rampant rumour mill speaks of them like they’re the two leads in some trashy-soap opera.
“Navia and Clorinde? They’re literally my Remuria empire. I can’t stop thinking about them!”
“I heard they still hate each other even after Vacher got arrested! My maman works at the Palais Mermonia and once heard loud thuds coming from Champion Duellist Clorinde’s office. Then Miss Navia walked out, and it looked like they got into a fight—like, a real fight!”
“I once saw Navia push Clorinde into a fountain! I wish I got it on kamera, though—but I swear it happened!”
Whoever would have guessed that their lives would ignite a gossip-fuelled frenzy that swept the land of Fontaine with an unrelenting vigour. And there was only one source to blame—
La Gouttiere.
Literal trash incarnate and the bane of every Champion Duellist's existence. More specifically, Clorinde’s existence.
Clorinde knew she had garnered… Fans for her work (and other reasons besides her work), so it was only natural for a writer to approach her for an interview eventually. She preferred her privacy, however, and as a person who preferred to keep to herself, she wasn’t all too fond of having her business plastered all over Fontaine in size ten font.
So, Clorinde entertained them. She played a game of catch-me-if-you-can with no intention of the writer ever catching her and assumed that was that.
But these days, you can’t just assume things. And Clorinde found that out the hard way.
The next day, she found images of herself plastered on the fluorescent front page with the bold lettering of La Gouttiere sprawled across the top—images she does not remember being taken of her. She then began to hear whispers of her no-response-response that had intrigued the whole of Fontaine for some reason, which then snowballed into people psychoanalysing her on why she preferred it that way.
And thus began Clorinde’s never-ending nightmare.
What she was eating, what she was wearing, who she was seeing—all in La Gouttiere for people to speculate on and consume with their ravenous eyes and imaginative minds. At first, she was amused by the attention, finding humour in how she seemed to have Fontaine wrapped around her finger. She noticed the frenzied excitement ignited by her mere presence. She noticed the whispers that followed her every waking moment. She noticed her growing audience at the duellist training grounds.
However, what made her begin to realise the absurdity of it all was when a photo of her eating a croissant at her favourite pâtisserie began making the rounds. It was a harmless photo, really, a quick snap of her pre-duel breakfast. But when she returned to her favourite pâtisserie the day after the latest La Gouttiere edition had been publicised, they were completely sold out for the next week. When she inquired about their other pastries, they had the poor owner tell Clorinde personally that the rest of their menu was sold out for the next two weeks. No croissants, no pain au chocolats, no madeleines, nothing. How that was possible? Clorinde had no idea. Of course, she would always prefer Navia’s home-baked goods over any establishment, any day of the week. But at this point, Clorinde just wanted her peace and for those damned reporters to leave her alone.
Clorinde memorised the face of every reporter and staff on the La Gouttiere team. They’re everywhere, scattered across Fontaine like an unavoidable plague. In the Vasari Passage, in the Palais Mermonia, in a random bush—there was always some avid reporter with a kamera in clutch, waiting for the perfect moment to take her photo.
It made her blood boil that her life had become a commodity for the people of Fontaine’s entertainment. Clorinde was exhausted from having to police her every waking action and having to ignore the unrelenting stares and whispers that pelted her with seemingly no end. But what she hated the most was having to keep her relationship with Navia a secret.
She’s heard horror stories from her co-workers of La Gouttiere twisting their words into something they were not in order to generate buzz or make a bland answer seem more enticing—especially when it came to their love lives.
What she and Navia had was good. Shaky, but so, so good. When Navia first invited her out for dinner, she thought it was a joke or a dream of sorts. But then one dinner became two, then two became four, then four led to Clorinde’s apartment, and the rest, as they say, was history.
History. something Navia and Clorinde had a lot of. She missed the days of their youth when the biggest monsters they faced were the ones found in Dungeons and Dragons, grotesque but comical. Exaggerated to the point where it was obvious they weren’t real. These days, however, the line between reality and fiction seemed to blur, and the monsters once confined within the pages of storybooks became animated, stalking the lands of Teyvat and targeting her every waking moment.
So they made an agreement to keep their relationship a secret, not only from La Gouttiere but from everyone. The irreparable damage caused by their three-year rift left a plethora of wounds in their wake. They were beginning to heal, and they were on their way to an equilibrium but added scrutiny from Fontaine would certainly do them no favours. So for now, they maintained a delicate balance—late-night rendezvous around Poisson, discreet code-names in between letters, and stolen glances becoming the cornerstones of their clandestine love affair.
All that mattered, in the end, was that they had each other, a position that Clorinde would have never imagined to find herself in after all these years. She would argue that Navia’s forgiveness was more than what she deserved, but she had to take her chances when she could. Besides, those three years apart—three years of Navia actively hating her and Clorinde actively hating herself—were more than enough.
But her forced vigilance was beginning to drive her mad. She didn’t want Navia to feel as if she was her dirty secret—Clorinde knew Navia deserved more than that. She longed to break free from the shadows, to embrace her without having to look over her shoulder, to kiss her openly without a care in the world. Yet she grew paranoid that every time Navia drew near, the dreaded shutter and blinding light of a kamera would make its presence known and ruin everything they’d worked so hard to repair and build.
And one day, it finally happened.
The photo wasn’t incriminating in the slightest. It was just her and Navia talking of all things—a completely normal and uninspiring thing for them to do. They were out for drinks in the Fleuve Cendre when Clorinde began to feel overwhelmed by her surroundings. When they were younger, the Fleuve Cendre was Navia and Clorinde’s playground. They spent endless hours exploring the metallic wonder, playing around with the nuts and bolts that constructed the small town’s industrial charm. Clorinde is a sentimental person, and she couldn’t help but let her emotions get the better of her. She tried not to show it, not wanting to burden Navia with her disjointed thoughts and clouded heart.
But Navia knew Clorinde—knew how to read her like a book. As soon as she picked up on subtle despondence clouding Clorinde’s features, Navia paid for their drinks and dragged Clorinde to the nearest alleyway and away from the prying eyes that watched the scene unfold with uncomfortable intrigue.
“You’re the strongest person I know, Clorinde. But you don’t always have to do everything alone.” Navia’s voice echoes above the dainty trickle of water, resonating in Clorinde’s heart with a fervent pang.
Navia’s gaze is on her. The cerulean of her eyes is so potent, like the shore of the Belleau coast, that Clorinde falters under its brilliance. “I don’t want to burden you, Navia.”
The weight of Clorinde’s words settles in the space between them. She believes her words wholeheartedly, never wanting to be the cause of Navia’s pain. Not again. The head of Navia’s brows meet in a furrow as the corners of her lips tug into a frown. “You’re never a burden to me.” Navia’s voice may have been as soft as a whisper, but her conviction was so palpable that it made Clorinde’s head spin.
It was a moment stolen in time, meant only for the two of them and their enamoured hearts.
But of course, the people of Fontaine just had to get involved one way or another. Some sneaking photographers managed to snap a photo of them while the pair were completely unaware. It was barely legible, but you could definitely tell it was the two of them. And since a photo’s subjects are at the mercy of the viewer, an obscured image can be manipulated to paint a completely different portrait.
And with the right ammunition, that’s exactly what La Gouttiere did.
An ambiguous photo and an embellished article were all the people of Fontaine needed to run wild with rampant speculations on the nature of Navia and Clorinde’s relationship. They were the five-course meal, the fodder to feed their inner gossip, the match that set off a hot trail of rumours and targeted words.
It’s ironic how, despite Navia and Clorinde’s efforts to conceal their relationship, whispers and speculations about their relationship continued to circulate. The more they tried to keep their connection private, the more it seemed to take on a life of its own in the eyes of others, and their relationship remained a topic of discussion, albeit in a different context.
The best Champion Duellist in all of Fontaine and the bright young president of the Spina di Rosula. The duellist who fought Callas Caspar and his daughter
Everyone in Fontaine knew how that ended.
Before the photo, La Gouttiere focused solely on gossip and insights into the lives of Champion Duellists. However, it was that single image of Navia and Clorinde that prompted them to open their eyes and broaden their horizons to look beyond the duellist sphere and into feeding the insatiable desires of the Fontaine public.
Thus, the spotlight had expanded to include not just Clorinde but also Navia:
The two fiercest adversaries in all of Fontaine.
ii. Champion Duellist Clorinde seen FUMING Post-Duel After Navia Whispers Profanities in her Ear!
La Goutierre
CHAMPION Duellist Clorinde hails victorious yet again, continuing her perfect streak of duels. The defendant, the infamous jewel thief who had managed to steal artefacts from the Palais Mermonia, went into the duel confident with his abilities and certain he would be the one to come out victorious.
However, his first mistake was underestimating Miss Clorinde, which led to the man yielding no longer than ten minutes in. An impressive feat for the Champion Duellist and all of Fontaine most certainly had to agree. However, it seems that one person would have to disagree, and that person is Miss Navia Caspar.
The rivalry between the pair isn’t a new revelation, well known amongst the populace of Fontaine. According to a reliable source, Miss Navia managed to corner Miss Clorinde post-duel in the foyer of the Opera Epiclesse, making sure to time her attack perfectly as the space was a ghost town (save for our source, of course). She allegedly leaned into Miss Clorinde’s personal space before whispering profanities into the duellist's ear with a self-fulfilling grin. Our source watched Miss Navia as she stepped back to mock the sheer rage that painted Miss Clorinde’s face, coloured a bright red as she stared incredulously at Miss Navia in disgust at her words.
Whatever it is that’s going between these two, things seem to be heating up fast!
Clorinde wins her duel—what else is new?
The once-eager Opera crowd had long dispersed, leaving Navia as a solitary figure outside the theatre’s hallowed doors. She rocked back and forth on her heels, the tapping of boot on marble resounding in the grandiose space with a fulfilling echo as she awaited her paramour.
Today’s duel involved a man with an ego too high for his own good—a jewel thief who refused to believe he did anything wrong. It was his ego that drove him to duel in the first place, believing that his combat prowess was far superior to any Champion Duellist the Court of Fontaine could throw at him. Thank Celestia Clorinde was there to knock it down a notch, providing her a flawless victory to add to her record.
An empty Opera Epiclesse was an eerie site to bear witness to. The grand foyer, once filled with the buzz of excitement is now desolate, a stark contrast to the once electric atmosphere. It was enough to chill Navia to her bone, the silence echoing throughout the opulent halls in a haunting manner.
But before she could dwell further, the theatre doors creaked open and tore Navia away from the isolation of silence. Navia turned swiftly, a smile creeping on her face as she saw Clorinde’s familiar silhouette framed by the entrance. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted as Navia took her in. Her hair was down and still damp, fresh from a shower with a soft glow adorning her cheeks. The echoes of Navia’s footsteps mingled with the space as she began her approach. As she drew near, her nose began to pick up a fragrant scent that enveloped the air around Clorinde. As she stopped in front of her, Navia realised the agreeable scent was that of rainbow roses. She could breathe it in all day.
“Clorinde,” Navia breathed, her heart fluttering at the sight of her beloved. The uncanny feeling that had gripped her moments ago dissipated, replaced by a rush of warmth that flooded her being. On instinct, Navia lifts her heels off the ground and rises onto the balls of her feet, her lips tingling with want as they find themselves drawn to Clorinde’s parting mouth.
However, just as they were about to meet in the middle, a figure flashed in the corner of Navia’s eye. Frozen from fear, the desolation of the foyer amplifies the figure’s approaching footsteps, each step echoing through the once-silent space. Her mind tells her to step back, to push Clorinde away. But her heart tells her to pay the intruder no mind, to preserve the intimacy of the moment and to be selfish for once in her life.
So, she makes a compromise. Navia quickly swerves her head so that her lips miss Clorinde’s and land right next to the shell of her ear in an act of quick thinking. “I’m so proud of you for today, ma cherie. Je t’aime,” Navia whispered softly, hoping her voice didn’t carry through the previously thought-to-be empty foyer. Her words were for Clorinde, and Clorinde only—though her lip’s inaction was for the facade they presented the world. Whispering into someone’s ear seemed far less conspicuous than kissing the girl everyone thinks that you hate—at least, that’s what Navia thought.
As her feet comes back to the earth, Navia takes a cautious step back from Clorinde. Her eyes darted to the side, where she found a lone figure, seeming to mind their own business, treading past them and toward another hallway with a broom in hand. It was just an Opera cleaner—Navia and Clorinde had nothing to be worried about. It’s not like they were some nosy reporter. Everything should be fine.
When Navia is nervous, she has a habit of flicking her eyes to various spots in the room. Right now, her mind was preoccupied with the thought of another cleaner close by or the fact that the footsteps she heard earlier could have been from another person entirely, and witnessed the whole exchange between the two of them. However, if she took a step back from her disjointed thoughts, then Navia would have been able to notice the bright red colour that had taken over Clorinde’s porcelain skin, the maroon flush contrasting the violet of her eyes and the darkness of her hair.
iii. Furina and Clorinde: Is Love in the Air??
La Gouttiere
WHILE Miss Navia and Miss Clorinde may be at odds, the same thing cannot be said for the Champion Duellist and Miss Furina de Fontaine.
Captured while on a date at Hotel Debord, Miss Clorinde is seen laughing at something Miss Furina had said—and the sparkle is definitely bright in her eyes. The former Archon is still as popular as ever. However, this is the first sighting of her since she stepped down from her position, and what a way to reinstate her presence in the public eye with one of the most esteemed figures in Fontaine society.
When Miss Furina was still residing over the nation, it was Miss Clorinde who served as her bodyguard, protecting her ferociously and leaving her life on the line to guard her Archon. We at La Gouttiere can say that this is a match made in Celestia, this pairing coming straight out of a romance novel—after all, it is a popular trope for the protagonists to get together with their bodyguards, is it not?
Could this be the beginning of Fontaine’s newest power couple?
The hot steam of her beverage fans the expanse of her nose as she takes a sip from her teacup, poised and well-mannered in front of her former Archon.
She was pleasantly surprised when Furina had reached out to her and invited her for a tea party, though she wasn’t one to refuse. It’s been a while since they last saw each other, with Furina stepping down from her archon duties meaning that Clorinde no longer had an archon to protect. These days, she devoted most of her time to her duelling responsibilities while helping Navia rebuild Poisson to fill up the space in between. It was a hectic schedule, but she made it work—though she was curious to learn about what Furina was up to.
Situated in Hotel Debord, Clorinde had some peace of mind over the fact that those pesky La Gouttiere reporters wouldn’t be able to catch her today. The security here was far more strict, especially with Furina around in her company. She may not be Fontaine’s Archon anymore, but she was still a revered celebrity. So Clorinde let her shoulders relax, and her posture loosen as she exchanged words and pleasantries with Furina.
“So you and Navia?”
It was only natural that Furina would have caught on to their supposed ‘rivalry,’ it was all Fontaine seemed to talk about these days, especially when the pursuit of her personal life seemed to intensify by the day. She could no longer just spot a reporter out in the daylight like she could in the early days. Those pesky reporters are fine-tuning their craft, finding creative ways to catch her or Navia off guard in more ways than one—because someone tell her why there was a reporter waiting for her in the Fountain of Lucine? It was getting beyond ridiculous, and she didn’t sign up for this; didn’t sign up for the whispers that shadowed her every move.
But she couldn’t blame Furina for falling into their trap. Straightening her spine, Clorinde takes a deep breath as she forces a strained smile. “Navia and I are fine, despite what La Gouttiere wants you to believe.”
“Oh, but it’s not just La Gouttiere—it’s everyone. You and Navia seem to steal the show whenever you two so much as breathe near each other.” Furina’s brows knit together in concern as she motions for the teapot. Clorinde hands it over with an exhausted sigh.
“I know.” Those two words are all she settles for, though Furina isn’t satisfied with her curt answer. She raises her brows, tilting her head slightly as she motioned for Clorinde to keep speaking. “Well, we are fine—good, even. Really. It’s just exhausting to be on the lookout constantly. I feel like I’m always on edge ‘cause everywhere I turn, there’s always a reporter waiting for me in a bush or something.”
“Believe me, with how popular I am, I understand how hard that can be.” Typical Furina. It causes a small beat of laughter to tumble out of Clorinde’s lips. She wondered if she was imagining things when a subtle flash resonated in her ears, but as she whipped her head across the room, she found nothing but ornate decorations and unassuming patrons.
Clorinde was just paranoid. Archons, La Gouttiere was really beginning to get to her.
“Everything okay?”
“Huh? Oh, yes.”
“Okay,” Furina drawls, though a scepticism is laden in her voice. “So if you don’t hate each other, then what are you two? Friends? Or…”
The implications of Furina’s words were not lost on Clorinde as heat began to rush to her cheeks. “Just friends,” she replies on instinct, though her guilt is evident in the way she averts her eyes.
“Just friends?” Furina echoes incredulously, scandalised by Clorinde’s profession. It was as if the very notion was a preposterous charade to Furina, a truth she found hard to believe. “But the way you used to talk about her—are you sure? How can you two be just friends?”
This was her queue to fess up. Sometimes, Clorinde would wonder whether it was worth keeping their relationship a secret. The weight of their concealed affections bore down on her, the sense of relief tugging at her heart if she were to tell at least one person. She feels the intensity of Furina’s mismatched irises bearing down on her with the strength of a thousand suns, scrutinising every minute inflexion she betrays on her face and for a moment, she considers telling her.
But ultimately, Clorinde decides against it.
It’s not that she didn’t trust Furina; It was just a matter of principle. When Navia and her made the agreement to keep their relationship a secret, it was a precedent set for everyone they knew—not just from their co-workers or the public, but even their closest friends.
Some may call them extreme, but Navia and Clorinde would call themselves cautious. Navia wasn’t even here for Clorinde to consult her on her decision, and it would be extremely unfair to her if Clorinde didn’t hold up her end of the agreement.
“I- We’re just friends, Furina. With everything that’s happened with Vacher and Callas…”
Furina immediately believes her words, not wanting to pry deep into the past. She knew how much that duel impacted Clorinde and the anguish it left her in its aftermath. “Oh, I completely get it—I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“No, no. It’s alright.” The guilt creeps up Clorinde’s spine, settling in her shoulders like a heavy burden. She felt bad for lying to Furina, especially when her eyes met her understanding gaze. She was her former Archon, but most importantly, Furina was her friend.
She doesn’t know whether or not Navia and her will ever reveal their relationship to those around them. So, in the meantime, Clorinde hopes she can get used to the guilt and the lies she’ll keep having to spin.
Clorinde clears her throat, motioning towards a plate adorned with various pastries.
“Croissant?”
iv. Navia Seen Leaving Clorinde’s Apartment! Did an Altercation Take Place?!
La Goutierre
THE feud between Champion Duellist Clorinde and Navia Caspar is beginning to heat up as Miss Navia is spotted entering Miss Clorinde’s apartment!
Our sources allege that they saw Miss Navia standing outside Miss Clorinde’s apartment with a basket in hand. While they were unable to confirm exactly what the contents of the bag were, we can assume Miss Navia perhaps baked goods for Miss Clorinde as it is a well-known fact that Miss Navia is fond of baking.
Perhaps this is rather extreme, but what if Miss Navia had poisoned her offerings? After all, Miss Clorinde had a duel that day, and she could have been an agent sent by the defendant to increase their chances of winning. While, of course, this duel has passed since this edition’s publication, it is better to be safe than sorry in regard to the health of Miss Clorinde, so it is within our responsibility to keep an eye on her!
Clorinde’s lips taste like macarons and safety.
The sweetness of the pastry blends with the soft sense of comfort Clorinde provides her, creating a unique flavour that lingers on Navia’s lips. She feels safe when she’s with Clorinde, anchored to the earth with her affection. Her kisses felt like home, a place where Navia felt she could make her bed and lie in.
“I have to go,” Clorinde pants against her needy mouth. With every exhale, Navia breathes Clorinde’s air in, causing her mind to grow intoxicated by the sensation. Navia hums against the base of her neck, but she makes no move to untangle herself from Clorinde. The vibration caused Clorinde’s Adam’s apple to shift with a reflexive swallow, her breath hitching as Navia peppered a trail of kisses that led to the shell of her ear.
“Navia-”
“-I know, I know.”
As their physical connection wanes, the atmosphere between them changes. There's a soft, lingering moment of shared breaths and unspoken desires. Navia's fingers trace an invisible path, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as she detaches their intertwined limbs. It starts with their arms, then their legs, Clorinde’s muscular thighs wrapped around Navia’s waist as she was perched atop her kitchen counter.
A half-eaten plate of macarons lies nearby, long forgotten as Navia gave herself up to the sweetness of Clorinde’s lips. She was at Clorinde’s apartment for a quick drop-off as she had a duel today. She had baked a batch of rainbow macarons as a token in the name of good luck—not that Clorinde needed it. She was going to win anyway. But who’s to say that Navia just wanted an excuse to see Clorinde?
Yet one thing led to another, and now they were here as Navia captured Clorinde’s lips like they were the most divine dish on earth. Taking a step back, Navia’s gaze lingered on Clorinde as she noticed the stains on her porcelain canvas. She left her mark in the form of ruby kisses, identical to the hue of lipstick she applied this morning. The different colours of their lipsticks blended together on Clorinde’s lips seamlessly. The once-defined lines now appeared smudged, soft and hazy around the edges of Clorinde’s lips.
It was a dizzying sight, causing Navia’s heart to pang as she appraised the work of art in front of her. It was enough to fill her eyes with mirth, her lips quirking into a smile as she trailed the pattern she imprinted upon Clorinde’s skin.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Clorinde inquired, her brows furrowing in a manner that made Navia melt.
Navia chuckles as she’s filled with a newfound sense of playfulness. “Just admiring my handiwork,” she replied, gesturing towards the vivid stains colouring her skin. “You’ve got lipstick here…” Navia cups the underside of Clorinde’s jaw, pulling the corner of her lower lip taut with her thumb. A smirk tugs on Navia’s lips as she lets her thumb linger, before dragging her thumb down Clorinde’s chin and spreading the colour down her skin. “And here.”
Navia finds satisfaction in the way her lip bounces back diligently like an elastic band. Clorinde rolls her eyes, though it’s obvious she’s fighting back a grin. “How artistic of you,” Clorinde remarks, her tone carrying a mock seriousness.
“It’s a talent, really,” Navia shrugs playfully. “I like to leave my mark.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do…” Clorinde responds, her voice adopting a velvety quality that dances between teasing and alluring.
Just as Clorinde was about to hop down from the bench. Navia places a halting hand on her thigh. As much as Navia would enjoy Clorinde attending her duel with her lipstick stains all over her body, she knew that it would be stupid of her to let that happen—especially with La Gouttiere lurking in every shadowy corner of Fontaine.
If they managed to capture Clorinde like this, they’d probably rush to have the issue out within the next hour and spin some story about how a totally reliable ‘source’ had managed to catch her and Furina kissing—because that was a thing the Fontaine public still loved to talk about. For some reason, she’d managed to get roped into this fictitious love triangle, as a new rumour emerged that the reason why she hated Clorinde was because she wanted to get with Furina, and Clorinde was standing in the way.
These people had way too much time on their hands.
“Stay there,” Navia instructs. “I’ll clean up my mess.”
Clorinde nodded patiently as Navia navigated her way through the kitchen. Navia moves with familiarity, the countless days and nights spent here causing the layout to be imprinted in her mind. She knew exactly where she could find a cloth—the third bottom drawer, her body on autopilot as her legs glided towards the sink to dampen the cloth.
“Okay, hold still.” Navia’s voice, a soothing melody, cut through the air as she approached Clorinde with the cloth in hand. She positions herself in between Clorinde’s legs, feeling the back of her heel brush against her calves.
The scent of rainbow roses wafted through Navia’s senses. Clorinde’s perfume wrapped her in a delicate floral embrace, lingering with the warmth of the kitchen and the heat of Clorinde’s body. Gently, she dabbed the cloth on the lipstick stains as she kept her touch feather-light.
Navia felt a hand snake down her body, resting on the small of her back, while another played with the loose strands of her hair. Clorinde’s touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a tingling sensation that danced across her skin.
In the quietude of Clorinde’s kitchen, Navia couldn’t help but lose herself in the moment. As if suspended in time, the outside world faded away, leaving the two of them in a shared cocoon of intimacy where their titles no longer bound them and could exist as simply Navia and Clorinde.
Once her neck is spotless, Navia shifts her focus to Clorinde’s lips. “Pucker up,” Navia jests in a sing-song voice, mimicking the motion with a playful twinkle in her eyes.
Navia’s heart soars as Clorinde barks out a laugh, her eyes crinkling with mirth as she does exactly as Navia says. With the same gentleness as before, Navia begins to dab at her smudged lips and the streak of lipstick down her chin that Navia had caused.
“Are you jealous that the cloth’s getting more action than you?” Clorinde teases, her voice being ignited with a spark of challenge. Navia playfully nudges Clorinde’s forehead, rolling her eyes in the process as she retrains her focus back to the task of hand, though heat floods her cheeks in response to Clorinde’s teasing. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Clorinde says, still smiling with a smugness in her tone.
“Believe what you want,” Navia replies, tilting her head slightly. “All done.”
Navia offers her hand to help Clorinde down from the counter. “And they say chivalry is dead,” Clorinde quips with a teasing smile, eagerly accepting Navia’s assistance.
“Anything for you, mademoiselle.”
Navia relishes in the warmth of Clorinde’s hand, admiring the rough callouses that told stories of her swordsmanship. Every digit and divot seemed to meld perfectly with her own as if Clorinde was made to hold Navia’s hand.
Clorinde stands in front of her, tall and resolute like the Champion Duellist she is. “You know,” Clorinde begins, her eyes scrutinising Navia’s visage. For a second, she begins to grow conscious as Clorinde’s eyes dart across her face. “You aren’t looking too hot yourself.”
Oh. Navia wipes her lips against the back of her palm and comes to find the remnants of her crimson lipstick staining her skin. She chuckles sheepishly, a blush tainting her cheeks.
“Come on, give me the cloth,” Clorinde directs as she holds out a palm.
“What? No—Clorinde, you’re supposed to be at your duel soon.”
She merely shrugs her shoulders in response. “It’s fine; they can’t start without me anyway.”
v. Interview with Champion Duellist Savinien: Says He Knows NOTHING About Navia and Clorinde
La Gouttiere
IN the world of Champion Duellists, Champion Duellist Savinien shines brightly, reflective in his track record of duels where he’s only lost five in his whole career. Mister Savinien’s prowess in the duellist ring is a testament to his exceptional skill and unwavering commitment to excellence.
However, despite his impressive record, there are whispers amongst his fellow duellists that Savinien’s true secret lies not in his skill but in his uncanny ability to distract his opponents with his famous hairdo. Those sandy locks, perfectly styled and coiffed, are the stuff of legend amongst men, and it has been a long-standing mystery how he gets his hair perfect every single time.
Well, today, La Gouttiere finally has an answer: a hair gel imported straight from Inazuma called Eternal Freeze!
In this edition of La Gouttiere, we were privileged with a one-on-one interview with the Champion Duellist, where he spills his secrets on his pre-duel rituals, goals, nutrition, and more.
And before you ask—he’s just as clueless as the rest of us when it comes to Navia Caspar and Champion Duellist Clorinde.
“Clorinde’s a good duelist—I mean, obviously, she’s our best. But if I’m being honest, I know nothing about what’s going on between her and Demoiselle Navia. She’s just a very private person in general. I read the papers, but I’m not really sure if I’m getting that kind of vibe from them, if you know what I mean?”
“Okay. So once I leave, you wait five minutes—and then you leave.”
“It’s honestly not that big of a deal, Clorinde.”
“What if there’s a La Gouttiere reporter? If we space it out-”
“-But isn’t that even more suspicious?”
“You’re right, let’s just leave when everyone else is gone-”
“Clorinde!”
Clorinde presses her lips into a thin line. La Gouttiere’s grasp on her life has begun to interlace itself with every thought and action she takes. She’s trapped in its sprawling web, the weight of the public eye covering her in a dark shroud as her paranoia takes root.
She can’t turn a corner without feeling the hairs on the back of her neck raise. She couldn’t walk past a bush without making sure to check whether or not anyone was hiding in it. She can’t speak to Navia freely in public without those damned whispers screaming in her mind.
Navia’s footsteps echo in her office as she treads closer, her face betraying her concern. “What’s up with you?” She inquires, her voice as calming as a gentle breeze to soothe Clorinde’s palpable distress.
“Nothing,” Clorinde responds, but they can both tell that was far from the truth.
“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” The concern in Navia’s eyes deepens, her gaze etching holes through Clorinde’s very being. “You can talk to me, Clorinde,” she reassures, lifting a hand to rest on the side of her cheek. Navia’s touch is gentle, a gentle caress that carries a thousand promises. Clorinde feels her defences crumble under the sincerity of Navia’s concern, the weight of her unspoken words yearning to find release.
She didn’t want to admit to Navia that their arrangement of secrecy was causing her this much distress. It was a mutual understanding forged between them, a pact meant to protect their relationship from the prying eyes of Fontaine. Yet the longer they kept their love hidden, the more Clorinde grappled with the toll it took on her wellbeing. It became an unspoken burden that plagued her thoughts, and she felt terrible for feeling this way. This was a burden she needed to shoulder alone, not wanting to trouble Navia with the emotional turmoil that brewed within her.
So, instead, she steeled her emotions, stifling the silent storm that raged beneath the exterior of her newly composed facade. “Really—I’m fine, Navia.” Her words come out in a plea, a desperation second to none to end their current conversation.
But Navia doesn’t give.
“Clorinde.” Navia’s voice holds a firmness, an insistence to let her in. “Please, you’ve been acting like this for weeks. I know La Gouttiere is a pain in the ass all the time, but I don’t know what I can do for you if you keep pushing me away.”
Clorinde’s heart aches with the desire to let her in. The cerulean pools in Navia’s eyes reflect not only a concern but also a deep sense of warmth that gnaws at the edge of her composure. She doesn’t want to disappoint Navia, doesn’t want to shatter the image of strength and stability she had always projected. The thought of revealing her vulnerabilities, of admitting dissatisfaction with their secret arrangement, weighs heavily on her and fills her with a sense of inadequacy. She doesn’t want to inadvertently betray Navia’s trust, causing disappointment or resentment to bloom where there was once unwavering support.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Clorinde repeats, a fragile shield to cling to her illusion of composure. “Just—just leave it, Navia.”
As soon as Navia flashed her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, Clorinde knew that she messed up.
“Fine.”
The warmth of Navia’s hand dissipates as she removes it from her cheek, and Clorinde’s office becomes enveloped in a newfound chill. Navia’s gaze lingers on her for a second before taking a step back, a silent action that speaks louder than any word could.
“Make sure you wait five minutes, Clorinde,” Navia announces, using Clorinde’s previous words against her.
The weight of her words hangs in the air, cutting through Clorinde’s defences like a sharp blade. As she watches Navia’s retreating back, a pang of regret seizes her heart. In that fleeting moment, the distance between them feels insurmountable, a chasm widening with every step Navia takes. The echoes of their exchange reverberate in Clorinde’s mind, stirring a range of emotions she struggles to contain as she grapples with the complexities of the nature of their relationship and the unspoken truths that bind them together.
In trying to spare Navia, it seems as if she had just made everything worse.
(One minute down. Four more to go.
She decides, fuck it, and bolts out the door one minute and eight seconds in.)
+1.
She finds Navia on the rooftop of the Palais Mermonia, perched delicately on the balcony edge.
The city twinkles beneath them in an array of lights while the distant hum of the aquabus reaches her ears. The moon, a silent witness of the night, casts its silvery glow over the land of Teyvat, creating a mesmerising display of light as the strands of Navia’s hair shimmer in the night.
Hesitantly, Clorinde begins her approach. Every step toward Navia was delicate, the clack of her heels light as she tred the fine line she had created. The city noises are but a mere murmur, the pounding of her heart louder as it resonated in her ear like a drum.
As she reaches Navia’s side, the moonlight reveals the nuances of her visage and accentuates every line and contour on her face. The rooftop breeze carries with it a subtle tension, an unspoken weight that bound the two of them together. As Clorinde stands idle, Navia’s gaze remains trained on the city of Fontaine and its twinkling lights.
She struggles to find the words as she’s faced with the rift that she has caused, her heart aching at the realisation. In the dim glow of the rooftop, she takes a deep breath, searching for a way to bridge the gap between them.
“I’m sorry, Navia,” Clorinde admits, her voice laden with sincerity. Gripping the railing tight, she hangs her head in shame, the moonlight casting shadows on her remorseful expression. “I’m sorry for not being honest with you earlier.” She takes a moment to recollect her thoughts as the air lingers with the intensity of their emotions. As the seconds stretch, Clorinde gathers her strength by taking a deep breath in order to continue. “I know I hurt you, and it isn’t fair of me to keep pushing you away. It’s just… I’m scared, Navia. I love you so much that the thought of losing you hurts. I want to let you in so bad-”
“-Then let me in!” Navia, usually composed, finally snaps, breaking the heavy silence that enveloped them. Taken aback by her sudden intensity, Clorinde meets her gaze and sees the reflection of the moon’s radiance shining within their cerulean depths, her emotions shining in her eyes—raw and unfiltered. “I feel like you don’t even trust me at this point.”
Navia’s frustration and hurt spill over, and her vulnerabilities are laid bare. Clorinde’s chest tightens as the pang of remorse she feels intensifies. “I do trust you,” She responds earnestly, exasperation laced within her voice. She takes hold of Navia’s hands, the contact offering a sense of warmth amidst the turmoil. It’s a perfect fit, like two pieces of a puzzle. Clorinde looks into Navia’s eyes, her own reflecting a mix of regret and determination. “You’re always so good to me, and it’s more than what I deserve. After all this time, I still find it hard to believe that you would want me in your life again. Not just as acquaintances or friends, but more than.
“I don’t want to lose us, Navia—I don’t want to lose you. Those three years-” Clorinde cuts herself off with a huff, turning her head to fight back the unshed tears that shimmered in her eyes. She didn’t want to go back there, never again. Navia seemed to understand, her stoic gaze softening slightly at the sight. Once Clorinde’s composure is regained, she takes a step closer, shortening the distance between them. They’re so close that Clorinde could count the freckles lining Navia’s nose and breathe the floral notes of her perfume in. “I thought that if I had let you in, or if I did something or said something that would have disappointed you, then you’d begin to hate me again, and we’d go back to those three years—except this time, you wouldn’t hate me for something I had done, you would hate me.”
Clorinde’s voice was just above a whisper as the repercussions of her confession filled the air. Grief lies heavily in her throat, a thick lump lining its walls. Navia, still holding Clorinde’s gaze, shines with a newfound understanding as the intensity of her frustration makes way for a glimmer of understanding. The silence between them speaks volumes, the unspoken fears lingering in the space between their intertwined hands.
“Thank you for being honest with me.” A subtle warmth seeps into the air as Clorinde takes in Navia’s response. Her voice carries a soft sincerity, breaking the tension that had gripped the scene. “Can I say something?”
Clorinde nods her head, an eagerness shining in her eyes. “Of course.”
A subtle heat flushes across her cheeks as Navia tugs her closer, guiding her hands to rest on the sides of her waist. “Those three years… I also had a part to play in that, you know?” Clorinde opens her mouth to protest, but Navia immediately shakes her head. “I already know what you’re about to say—you don’t need to keep on apologising. I’ve already forgiven you.
“Clorinde, I love you. I love all of you. The good, the bad, the ugly—all of it.” Navia professes. A tendril of navy hair brushes Clorinde’s cheek, a strand fallen from her windswept ponytail. Shivers travel down Clorinde’s spine as Navia brushes the loose strand of hair behind her ear, her hand hovering where her ear meets her cheek.
“Even the ugly?” Clorinde lifts a hesitant hand to keep Navia’s in place, feeling the delicate touch of her fingers against her skin. The air crackles around them as cerulean meets violet. Clorinde feels her knees grow weak under Navia’s gentle gaze.
“Especially the ugly.” A soft smile played on Navia’s lips as she spoke, the pad of her thumb caressing her cheek. Clorinde couldn’t help but lean into the warmth of her hand, like putty under her touch.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what makes you, you,” Navia says softly, a reassurance shining bright in her eyes. The moonlight, now a part of both apology and acceptance, seemed to shine brighter than before as the edges of the rift between them had softened. “Now let me in that beautiful mind of yours.”
In the shared moment of vulnerability, a bridge was formed between Navia and Clorinde’s bleeding hearts. She feels a glimmer of hope blooming in her chest, and for once, Clorinde feels brave.
“I don’t want us to be a secret anymore.” Navia looks at her with an expression Clorinde couldn’t read, and suddenly, the floor beneath her feels as if it’s about to sink. She feels the insecurities and vulnerabilities slowly creeping in once more as the city below seems to hold its breath, waiting for Navia’s response. “I mean, of course, if you don’t want to—I mean,” Clorinde begins to stammer, tripping over her words to save face. “If you aren’t comfortable with it, we don’t have to tell anyone. It was a dumb idea anyway, just forget-”
Without warning, Navia leans in, and Clorinde registers the sensation of her lips against hers. The kiss was a full stop, a taste of love that left Clorinde’s head spinning and speech hindered.
“You talk too much,” Navia says against her lips, parting with a final kiss on her cheek. She hurriedly makes her way to the balcony’s railing, the moonlight tracing her steps as she cups her hands to her mouth. “My name is Navia Caspar, and I’m in love with Champion Duellist Clorinde!”
Her declaration echoes throughout the silent expanse, cutting through the stillness of the air with a lingering sweetness. Time seems to pause as Clorinde registers Navia’s bold declaration. Initially absorbed in her own thoughts, her eyes widened comically at a smug-looking Navia in an instant.
“Someone’s going to hear you?” Clorinde’s statement comes out like a question, unsure of what Navia’s motives were. To be frank, she was extremely confused.
“Isn’t that the whole point?” Navia shoots back as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Clorinde. Just like the mountains.”
“Yeah, but actions-”
“…Speak louder than words—yeah, yeah. I get it,” Navia continues for her, rolling her eyes in the process. “Just this once? Please? Besides, it’s about time for Fontaine to know who you actually belong to.”
A smirk involuntarily forms on Clorinde’s lips. “Are you jealous of Furina?” She teases as a playful note is carried in her voice. Before she can revel in a reaction, a pitched yelp escapes her lips as Navia retaliates, pinching her side with a mischievous grin. “Okay. I get it.”
She lets out a resigned sigh as she makes her way toward the balcony railing. As she gazes out into Fontaine’s gleaming expanse, a quiet introspection ruminates in her mind. The city was motionless in the quiet of the night. She doubts anyone would be awake to hear her, and even if they were, Navia provided her with the reassurance to no longer care. She could deal with the consequences because in this moment, bathed under the moon, Clorinde knew that she was loved—and that was something no uncertainty could take away.
So she lets go of La Gouttiere and the chains they bind her with. She ignored the ensuing whispers that would continue no matter what she did. She breaks free from the vigilance she enforces upon herself and lets herself be.
She lets the warmth of the realisation settle within her as she finds solace in Navia’s presence. With a resolute breath, she summons all her strength to her vocal cords and allows her words to be carried away by the nighttime breeze, everlasting and concrete with her affections.
Yelling Heard From Palais Mermonia Late at Night
La Gouttiere
Despite the tensions running high between Navia and Clorinde, an anomaly had emerged deep within the night.
According to a source, two voices can be heard yelling from the rooftop of the Palais Mermonia at around 11:43 PM on Friday night. According to the source, they heard a feminine voice yell: “I’m Navia Caspar, and I love Clorinde!”
They also claim to have heard another feminine-sounding voice. Though they forgot exactly what this voice had said, our source alleges that the second voice belonged to no other than Champion Duellist Clorinde herself!
Talk about a twist of fate in this tale of two rivals—how does Furina feel about this? Especially with what we know about the relationship between Miss Navia and Miss Clorinde, it can certainly be hard to believe that these two are allegedly in love with each other! This claim is easy to dismiss with the past sightings of the pair amidst disputes, though it certainly isn’t out of the question.
We suppose you should just take everything here with a grain of salt. But hey, next thing you know, you might spot Miss Navia and Miss Clorinde walking down the street while holding hands.
(This is pure speculation, and La Gouttiere cannot be certain about the authenticity of our source's claims.)