Chapter Text
Clorinde thinks Wriothesley has a death wish. It's their first lab of the semester, and he's late.
Her pristine lab coat is rough against her skin, crinkling with every minor movement she makes. The strong antiseptic scent of the lab only seemed to amplify the irritation flaring within her chest. It invaded her nostrils with each inhale, a clinical aroma as sharp as the current vitriol she held for her best friend.
'Some best friend he is,' she thought, impatiently drumming her fingers on her bench's resin countertop. There was a clock at the front of the room. Its monotonous ticking felt almost menacing, its hands moving at a pace that seemed to defy the laws of physics as each second dragged on.
She didn't have to be in this godforsaken lab at nine in the morning. She's a philosophy major for crying out loud. She dealt with the abstracts and knew how to make a perfect, logically sound argument.
But no matter how well Clorinde could construct a syllogism or ponder the intricacies of existentialism, it didn't matter. This was all irrelevant in Organic Chemistry I.
This was a whole nother ballpark entirely. She's heard the horror stories from her upperclassmen. She knows her other classmates will drop like flies by the end of the semester—no, the end of the week. O-chem was the kind of unit to engulf you like a five-course meal, chew you up, then spit you out to do it all over again.
Clorinde is smart, incredibly so. Don't worry; she's not the type to scream it from the rooftops and let everyone know. That would invalidate her intellect—smart people don't need to let you know they're smart.
But if you wanted to deal with the objectives, then she would have you know that she graduated as the valedictorian from her highly competitive high school, received a merit-based scholarship to the New Fontaine Institute of Technology (one of the best universities in all of Teyvat), and currently maintained a perfect GPA. Only if you asked, of course.
However, her intellect could only take her so far when she focused on the humanities. Sure, she took chemistry in high school and general chemistry in her first year, and she did fine—exceptional, actually. But test tubes, reactions, and reagents that could kill you with a mere inhale weren't really her thing; they were more Wriothesley's.
As a pre-med, organic chemistry is necessary for his admission into med school, along with the other crap and tests he has to put himself through. Clorinde just needed an elective.
She could have easily taken an intro science course, or more specifically, that 'rocks-for-jocks' unit that all the student-athletes take to ensure their GPA is high enough so they can stay on their teams. Not that she was an athlete, but she could use the GPA boost. In fact—she didn't even need a damn science course at all. She could have done something completely out of left field, like ukulele.
But no, Wriothesley practically forced her into this class so he wouldn't 'die alone' (his words). He also persuasively offered to write all her notes and promised to help her with whatever she got stuck on, no matter the time or place. So it was with a heavy heart that she resigned herself to her fate and pressed confirm on her university's allocation system.
At least she and Wriothesley had put their preferences in early enough to be in all the same sections. Besides, he did return the favour by enrolling in a literature unit with her. It's too bad he isn't here right now. She couldn't even fathom why anyone would risk being late, especially in a course as demanding as organic chemistry. Besides, their lab attendance was a part of their grade, and arriving late for the first session certainly wasn't a good start to a long semester.
Clorinde is a no-nonsense kind of girl regarding her academics—she has a perfect GPA to maintain, after all. But with the infamy that came with organics, she was nervous about it dropping by a couple of points.
Since it was their first lab, they were getting to pick their lab partners today. She needed Wriothesley here. He may be getting on her nerves right now, but he was on the pre-med track for a reason. She didn't want to get stuck with some incompetent oaf who sniffs the chemicals instead of wafting them, but at that point, it was just natural selection.
She let out a groan as Clorinde's eyes scanned the room and noticed Itto rummaging through the bench drawers. She had nothing against the guy, but she might drop the class entirely if he ended up as her partner. Okay, an exaggeration, but she heard through a mutual friend that he managed to spill hydrochloric acid on his poor lab partner. Thankfully, it was a dilute concentration, but still.
The lab instructor seemed eager to begin the session soon. The clock's ticking certainly wasn't helping as her irritation filtered into panic. She extends her arm across her bench, using it as support to rest her forehead. The cool surface beneath her skin provided a momentary reprieve as she closed her eyes, attempting to calm her racing thoughts as she breathed in and then out.
But then her thoughts ultimately spiralled back to Wriothesley and his tardiness. She would get stuck with an incompetent lab partner, ruining her GPA and everything she worked hard for. She should probably kiss law school goodbye and—Archons, her parents! If she doesn't make it as a lawyer, that would disgrace her family's name and legacy. Her mother is a lawyer, her father is a lawyer, everyone in her family is a lawyer (except for her second cousin Julien, the black sheep of their family. He's a doctor: neurosurgeon).
They wouldn't disown her, would they?
It was too early for her to have an existential crisis; those were usually reserved for her all-nighters. She should just pull out her phone and drop out of this class before the lab begins—
"Excuse me?"
Clorinde snapped back to the present. It certainly wasn't Wriothesley; the voice was too saccharine, a melodious tune that scratched an itch in her brain.
Startled, she perks up and comes into contact with the most brilliant eyes she's ever seen. They were a striking blue—not quite turquoise, but more cerulean like the waters of the Belleau coast. Clorinde was inexplicably drawn to those oceanic pools, like the gravitational pull between the tides and the moon.
She was under a spell cast by the beholder of those cerulean eyes. Clorinde was stupefied, completely and utterly dumbfounded, as she looked eye-to-eye with the prettiest girl she'd ever seen. Her heart hammered against the constraints of her chest—could it be from her surprise or the pretty girl giving Clorinde her undivided attention?
From the corner of her eye, she catches a flash of dark hair as Wriothesley attempts to slink in unnoticed. Keyword: attempts. The subtle sag in his shoulders and failed nonchalance betray his effort as he's instantly berated by the lab instructor and dragged towards a boy with a bob cut and navy hair with a green streak. Of course, the lucky bastard gets to be paired with Tighnari. She suppresses an eye roll.
"-Partners?"
Clorinde is reacquainted with the present as she realises the pretty girl has been talking to her this entire time. Embarrassingly, she then realises she's been staring at the pretty girl's lips for who knows how long, but certainly long enough that she could probably pick out the exact shade from the colour wheel.
Well, shit.
"I'm sorry," Clorinde quickly sputters, praying that the pretty girl didn't catch her staring. "Could you please repeat what you just said?"
She's thankful the pretty girl didn't respond with any hint of irritation, just a smile that rivalled the sun's radiance. "The lab instructor told us to go find partners… I was wondering if you wanted to pair up—I mean, only if you wanted to, of course."
Her lips were moving again. It took Clorinde all her willpower to stop her eyes from darting towards her pretty lips.
"Um…"
Clorinde originally planned to partner with Wriothesley, but that went out the window when he decided to show up late and partner with someone else. Her eyes surveyed the room, catching her best friend's eye, who mouthed her a swift "sorry," a pained expression etched on his face.
‘Good,’ Clorinde muses in her mind. She is mad at him, and she's glad that he knows. The idiot now owed her food.
The pretty girl's eyes followed her line of sight as she noticed the sour expression on Clorinde's face. "Oh," she began, her face falling as she noticed Clorinde's change in demeanour. "If you wanted to partner with him-"
"-No!" Clorinde would be the first to admit that her rebuttal was a tad too hasty, raising her voice to match her urgency. The pretty girl was now staring at her with her cerulean eyes, confusion lingering in their depths. Her lips were parted and brows slightly raised, poised in acknowledgement of Clorinde's puzzling behaviour.
Partnering with a pretty girl wasn't part of her plans, but Clorinde supposes she could make an exception. She hopes the pretty girl can pull her weight and maintain her GPA. That, and that she would waft the chemicals, not sniff them. She'd hate for natural selection to run its course and… Select her (for lack of a better term).
"Uh- I mean, I'd love to partner up—with you! That is, um…" Celestia, have mercy on her. A hot flush crawled up the sides of her neck, resonating in the apples of her cheeks. She was probably the spitting image of a tomato right now, her pulsing heart working tenfold to send the blood rushing to her face.
"Great!" the pretty girl exclaims as she takes the free seat next to her, either completely oblivious or ignorant of Clorinde's flustered state. As she draws near, a delicate fragrance begins to envelop Clorinde’s personal space and weave through her senses with great ease. For a fleeting moment, she’s rendered spellbound by the floral notes, eager to put a finger on the exact scent. "I'm Navia. It's nice to meet you, partner!"
The pretty girl, Navia, extends a warm hand toward her. Clorinde's mind was still recovering from Navia calling her partner. Clorinde's gaze travels towards Navia's inviting hand and notices the light blue coating on her nails, a shade similar to the colour of her eyes. She wouldn't blame her; it is a pretty colour.
"Clorinde. It's nice to meet you, too." Silence spans the space between them as Navia's outstretched hand remains untouched. Clorinde was supposed to shake her hand! She quickly remedies her blunder by darting her hand to grip Navia's palm—firm but brief. Up, then down. "…Partner," she adds for good measure, extending Navia's courtesy.
Lumidouce bells. That’s what Navia’s perfume smelt like.
She didn't miss the jolts of electricity that lingered where their palms touched or the tentative care Navia handled her hand with. Her palm felt firm, the skin rough from years of hard work. Clorinde should be ashamed of herself. She knew the value of an excellent first impression. It's been ingrained in her since the day of her birth. Good first impressions were how you got clients to trust you, spill all their secrets, and invest all their faith in you to produce a favourable verdict.
Yet here she was making a mockery of herself in front of a stranger—a very pretty stranger. There was something about Navia that drew her in, Clorinde noted as her eyes traced the sweeping expanse of her porcelain skin that lacked any hint of a blemish.
Clorinde needed to compose herself. She shouldn't be checking out her lab partner this early in the morning, especially when she wasn't sure how discreet she was being.
She clears her throat. "So, what are you majoring in?"
"Oh, I'm doing environmental engineering." Environmental engineering? Beautiful and smart—but most importantly, Clorinde's GPA is saved! She's not stuck with some incompetent oaf. "What about you?"
"I'm actually majoring in philosophy," Clorinde admits, now a tad sheepish. It was hard not to, especially when she felt out of place surrounded by STEM majors.
"Philosophy?" Navia echoes with furrowed brows, leaning her head on the palm of her hand. "How'd you end up here?"
A deeply charged sigh slips Clorinde's lips. "See that asshole over there?" Clorinde motions to Wriothesley's bench with a gesture of her head, to which Navia nods in response. "He practically forced me into this class, and now I'm here, I guess."
Navia lets out a hum, taking in everything Clorinde had shared. "Well, I'm happy to be of service to you. You know, if you need help? Teaching people helps the content stick in my brain, so you'd also be helping me out."
Wriothesley made the same offer to her, but it sounded a lot more enticing coming out of Navia's lips. "I might have to take you up on that," Clorinde replies with gratitude laden in her voice, a soft smile tugging on her lips.
"Awesome," Navia replies, the enthusiasm in her grin beating Clorinde's ten-fold.
Clorinde registers the sound of someone clearing their throat, causing her eyes to dart to the front of the room. "Can you guys hear me?" Said the lab instructor, their voice resonating throughout the room with excellent projection. She gives them a nod, shuffling on her seat to get a better point of view amongst the sea of students and glassware.
"Wonderful. So, today you're going to be synthesising aspirin," they continue, their eyes surveying the room of students. "I expect all of you to be somewhat familiar with the procedure, given it was available a week in advance. Make sure to complete the post-lab worksheet online—no formal reports yet since it's your first experiment. Try to read the questions carefully and refrain from silly mistakes."
The instructor then delves into the pre-lab briefing, further explaining the experimental procedure and sharing some last-minute tips that do little to put some of her classmates' minds at ease. "Any questions?" As the echo of the instructor's question lingers in the air, a thick silence envelops the room. Clorinde tilts her head left, then right, taking in the eclectic expression of her peers. Some wore looks of complete zen, while others looked like they were on the brink of collapse, their woeful distress tangible from her seat. Clorinde likes to think she's somewhere in the middle. Still, she's glad Navia's demeanour seems more aligned with the zen camp—unless all her panicking is internal. "Okay: your equipment is found in your benches or cabinets around the lab, and the reagents are found in the fume hoods. You may begin—oh! And return your bench keys at the end of the lab!"
The lab bursts to life with chatter as the instructor finishes with the formalities. Clorinde's fingers itch to get her hands on the equipment, wanting to get the practical component over with as soon as possible so they could get started on the worksheet and make a decent dent. The experiment itself wasn't that complicated (of course she's read through the procedure already!), and her next class wasn't until three. So if she played her cards right, she and Navia could finish the whole experiment with time to spare, and Clorinde could squeeze in a nap before she had to listen to her next professor yap about moral and nonmoral value and classical utilitarian theory.
Amidst the chaos, Navia shoots her a lopsided grin that causes Clorinde's insides to feel funny. "Let's grab the reagents?"
Wordlessly, Clorinde nods her head.
The next three hours were filled with the clinking of glassware, the shuffling of papers, and spouts of chatter blended together in a cacophony of sound. She had to give Navia her props where it was due—the girl knew what she was doing. They moved like a well-oiled machine, their combined academic prowess allowing them to sync up in a manner that made them the first group to finish their synthesis.
Celestia must have been on her side this morning when Navia asked if they wanted to become lab partners. Clorinde couldn't help but steal glances at her throughout the experiment, grateful for the stroke of luck that brought her into her academic orbit. She was the kind of pretty—beautiful that rivalled that of the ocean, her radiance a more captivating force than any wave or tide the ocean could send your way. Her silken blonde strands were tied in a neat ponytail, garnished with a bow that pulled the look together. Her hair looked so healthy as it gleamed golden in the light. Clorinde wondered what kind of shampoo she used and whether or not she must have used a hair oil to achieve the look—
Ahem.
Clorinde learned a lot today—especially about her partner. She learned that Navia is from Poisson, a small town in the Belleau region. She learned that Navia's on the basketball team, which makes sense considering how tall she was (she thinks the basketball team is a big deal at their school?). She learned that Navia likes to bake when she has free time and offered to make her macarons before their next lab session.
So yeah, she's learned a lot. Even in the chemistry aspect, too, she supposes—not just about Navia. All in all, a success in Clorinde's books. She even got her nap in, which was fucking fantastic, though her moral philosophy lecture was anything but. It's not that she hated the class—her professor was a great lecturer—but she had to pay extra attention to him as some off-hand comment could suddenly become a question in their weekly quiz.
Unfortunately, Clorinde's day was far from over. She still had five hours of ice cream scooping to go.
At least Navia and Clorinde exchanged numbers.
"I can't believe you were fucking late," Clorinde says with irritation, her tone sharp as she pointed a spoon at Wriothesley in an accusatory manner.
Wriothesley acknowledges his guilt by raising his hands, his palms opened in surrender. "Apologies," he replies with a slight melodic tilt to his voice, causing Clorinde to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Why were you late anyway?"
"I stayed up 'til four AM last night and slept through my alarm," he shrugs simply, causing Clorinde's waning patience to grow thinner.
Clorinde scoffs, raising a brow in scepticism. "And what exactly were you doing?"
"None of your business," he sassed back, pointing a finger at her before turning his attention to his unblended milkshake.
He was probably up late talking to that guy he matched with on The Oratrice but didn't want to admit it. Clorinde rolls her eyes at Wriothesley's antics as she watches his concoction's colours converge into a deep brown and listens as the whirring of the blender drowns out the generic pop song blasting from the shop speakers.
It just so happened that Wriothesley also worked at the same ice cream parlour as her (which was totally a coincidence). It was only five PM, so the floor was relatively quiet except for the group of students hunched over a table with their laptops and stationery scattered and the struggling parents who dragged their kids here to shut down their tantrums rather than deal with the problem head-on.
There was nothing much for them to do except spray and wipe the tables for the third time in ten minutes or take the mountain of trash bags piled in the back to the outside dumpster bins—which, ew. No. Or, in Wriothesley's case, whip himself up a free chocolate milkshake while their manager was out the back taking a smoke break. Though if she were here, it's not like she'd care anyway.
So, for now, they sat still and waited for the evening rush, which usually began at seven-thirty. Being close to their college meant a stream of ravenous students eager for their sugar fix or those keen for their post-dinner dessert. Clorinde hated it whenever someone she recognised came in—which was almost every shift, as it meant forced smiles and awkward small talk about their classes for the day. Or not acknowledging they know each other at all.
"I can't believe you ended up with Tighnari," Clorinde laments as she grabs a spray bottle and paper towel. Walking in front of the ice cream display, she begins a monotonous routine of spraying and wiping the glass, ensuring no smudges are left behind.
"Yeah? And what about it?" Wriothesley replies, tossing her a pointed look.
"Dude, getting Tighnari as a lab partner is basically landing the jackpot—you're probably gonna slack off even more than usual."
"Hey! Who says I slack off?" Wriothesley leans against the counter and crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow as he feigns offence. Clorinde has to suppress a laugh at the juxtaposition created between his 'tough' outward demeanour and the hint of chocolate milkshake smudged on the corners of his lips. She doesn't say a word.
"Who says I slack off?" Clorinde echoes, her voice nasal in tone, and her face scrunches due to her imitation.
"Okay, Clorinde. Wow. I do not sound like that-"
"-That's what you're concerned about?"
"Obviously—Wait, no!" Wriothesley's mouth catches up to his brain, his face flashing through various emotions before he's back on the defence. "I do not slack off!"
He so did. It's the one thing about Wriothesley that pissed her off. He always managed to maintain perfect grades without touching a textbook in his life—okay, an exaggeration, but her point still stands.
"You so do! Remember last year when you almost got a zero on that one-gen chem lab report?"
"Okay, but I didn't."
"Only because I kept pestering you to do it-"
"Well-"
"Excuse me!"
Clorinde registers a feminine voice from behind her, so saccharine that its sweetness washes over her in waves. Clorinde's heart thumps wildly in her chest as she picks up on the voice's melodic cadence, causing her to connect the dots and come to an undeniable conclusion. She knew exactly who that voice belonged to.
Against all her best wishes, Clorinde pivots her body and, to her horror, finds three girls staring at her expectantly. She quickly deduces the trio were part of the school's basketball team as they were dressed in their training outfits, which featured the school's signature ocean blue hues and oceanid-clad-crest.
That and the fact that they were all tall.
On the left stood a girl with vibrant pink hair swept in a ponytail. Her violet eyes bore a twinkle of mischief as they landed on Clorinde, her lips tilting in a slight smirk. Clorinde's seen her around campus before, though their paths have never particularly intersected. However, Clorinde notes that she's usually accompanied by a violet-haired woman with glasses.
On the right stood a girl who appeared strong in physique, her gaze fixed with a crimson eye. Clorinde knew who she was this time—Beidou, captain of the women's basketball team—but she was not that special in knowing that. Everyone knew who Beidou was. She was loved across campus for how easygoing and lighthearted someone in a role like hers was. Though again, her and Beidou's paths have never intersected. It's more that she's heard about her through many friends of a friend.
And much to Clorinde's delight (or horror—she was always bad at deciphering the butterflies in her stomach), at the centre of the trio stood a head of golden locks she'd been obsessing over since her nine AM lab. Her supple peach lips were curved in a smile, the apples of her cheeks plump as her cerulean eyes made crescents. Blue really was her colour as the training singlet complemented the canvas of her skin and brought out the depths in her gaze.
Clorinde couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions at the sight of her. Their eyes meet, and she feels a jolt of electricity through her veins as her heart pounded. Focus Clorinde! She couldn't make a fool of herself, especially not now.
"Clorinde! Hi!" Navia beams, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "I didn't know you worked here."
"I mean, it's a relatively new job. I started right before the semester—or something like that," she says with a laugh, trying to keep her rambling to a minimum.
"Or something, huh?" Navia repeats before her focus shifts to the display of ice cream flavours. Her brows furrow slightly as she considers each flavour, and her head tilts in contemplation.
"I already know what I want," Beidou says from Navia's right. "Could I please get two scoops of rum and raisin? In a cone, please." She requests cheerfully, flashing Clorinde a smile that makes it easy to know why she's so loved.
Clorinde's lips quirked into a polite smile as she nodded her head. Remembering to grab the spray bottle, Clorinde makes her way behind the counter once more, subtly kicking Wriothesley in the back of his calf while he was tending to the pink-haired girl. She didn't fail to notice Navia's pout, still sussing out the different flavours.
As she hands over Beidou's cone, Navia manages to catch her eye with a sheepish grin.
"What's your favourite flavour, Clorinde?"
Clorinde folds her arms over the top of the display in the hopes of appearing nonchalant, but she winces subtly as she realises she'll probably have to clean it afterwards. "Uhh, probably caramelised chips."
A beat of hesitation passes, though Navia masks it well with a polite smile. "Oh, I guess I'll have a scoop of that then."
The ice-cream parlour, Make You Melt, was into making unconventional flavours to 'challenge your taste buds,' but in reality, it was just some marketing ploy to attract TikTokers and influencers to their store. Unfortunately, it worked, and somehow, Clorinde was always on shift whenever they came in the store to do a 'let's try this gross new flavour from Make You Melt!' video.
Caramelised chips were definitely not Clorinde's favourite flavour. This was her attempt to make a joke and flirt with Navia. The degree of success was yet to be determined, as Navia's face didn't betray her true feelings, but she could definitely tell she wasn't too keen on having to stomach caramelised chips.
"I'm just kidding. My favourite flavour's actually strawberries and cream."
"Okay, thank Celestia you have better taste than caramelised chips," Navia teases, chuckling in relief. Clorinde feels her face flush warm at the sound. "I'll be having two scoops of strawberries and cream then."
"Cup or cone?"
"Cone, please."
And just like she's done thousands of times before, she grabs the scooper from the warm bucket of water and plunges the head into the creamy pink tub. It was muscle memory to her at this point, a monotonous task that rewards her with the sweet reward of minimum wage—not that she was complaining. She chose to be here.
As she scoops up the second serving of ice cream, her ears catch the faint voice of the pink-haired girl—not loud, but not exactly a whisper either. "So, are you going to introduce us to your friend? Or…” Her words hang in the air, trailing off with suggestions that pique Clorinde's curiosity. Was that a hint of mischief she heard in her voice?
"Yeah, yeah. I will," Navia responds casually as Clorinde hands her the cone. Their fingers briefly brush against each other in a fleeting moment of touch.
As they make their way to the till, Clorinde feels a sudden wave of nerves that weren't there before. She feels scared to even look Navia in the eye, fearing that her cheeks would betray a telling red tint. She fumbles with the EFTPOS machine, her fingers fidgeting nervously over the buttons—even almost overcharging Navia at one point. She gets it eventually, however.
"Perfect," Clorinde announces with a smile, her customer service voice seeping in as the machine emits a satisfying 'ding.' "Enjoy the rest of your night!" she adds, the words flowing automatically from her lips.
"Thank you!" Navia's voice rings out with soft sincerity, her gratitude lingering in the air. When Navia makes no immediate move to leave the till, Clorinde's momentarily caught off guard before she remembers the pink-haired girl's words. "Oh, by the way, Clorinde, these are my teammates: Miko and Beidou—Well, Beidou's actually my captain, but, um… Yeah." Navia's words tumble out in a rush, tinged with a hint of nervousness. Clorinde can't help but notice the slight stumble in her speech, causing her fondness for the girl to grow deeper. "Anyway—Miko, Beidou, this is Clorinde, my orgo lab partner."
"Nice to meet you." Clorinde manages to offer a smile, though she can't shake the feelings of awkwardness that colours the encounter. But maybe that's just her.
"Ah, the lab partner!" Miko's voice cuts through the air with a playful lilt, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she casts a knowing glance between Navia and Clorinde. "It's so nice to meet you."
"We've heard a lot about you today," Beidou remarks with an amused smile, the playfulness in her voice more subtle than Miko's. As Beidou ruffles Navia's hair, a faint blush blooms across her cheeks. Clorinde couldn't help but smile at the sight.
"Only good things, I hope?" Clorinde interjects.
"Of course!" Navia cuts in, her voice light as she gently nudges Beidou away. "You seem to know your way around a lab, partner."
"Partner, huh? Cute." Miko coos, her voice dripping with playful teasing as she pinches Navia's cheek. Navia lets out a playful groan in response, swatting Miko's hand away. Miko's gaze then shifts from Navia to Clorinde, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk that sets Clorinde's pulse racing. "Navia, you should invite your partner to our game on Saturday."
"It's our first game of the season, too," Beidou chimes in, her voice brimming with excitement as she wraps her arms around Navia's shoulders in camaraderie. "Definitely don't want to miss that one."
Clorinde looks between Beidou and Navia, her gaze lingering on Navia with an intensity that betrays her curiosity. As their eyes meet, Clorinde notices the subtle rise of her brows and how her lips itch to find the right words.
"I mean, yeah. I'd love to have you there," Navia begins, her voice carrying a soft warmth. But there's a subtle undertone of uncertainty that Clorinde picks up on. It seemed like Navia was almost nervous? "But if it's not your thing, then no pressure-"
"-I'd love to go."
The words escaped Clorinde's lips before she realised what she was saying.
From the corner of her eye, she sees Wriothesley giving her a look. Did she tell him that all athletes were curses sent from the deepest pits of hell at one point? Yes. But to be fair, she was being dramatic after some oaf from the soccer team sent a ball flying straight to her face, causing her nose to start bleeding.
But Navia was not some oaf; she was much more than that. Navia was the girl she met in her nine AM lab, the environmental engineer major who carefully measured each reagent, the girl who smelt like lumidouce bells. So, for however long she had to endure in that stadium filled with a rowdy crowd and sweaty athletes, Navia included, she would endure it.
All for the girl with the sun-kissed locks and oceanic eyes.