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It’s the eighth day of a little routine that Navia’s been starting to build up for herself. After two years of being president of the Spina, handling dwindling funds and wavering support, it’s about time she’s afforded some thought to serve her own life.
The routine goes as such: go with her attendants to breakfast (which started thanks to months of Melus telling her to stop skipping “the most important meal of the day”). Whether it’s sitting down to eat at a cafe, or reluctantly sticking her fork into a bowl of fruit in the kitchen, Navia knows he’s only looking out for her and relents. Then it’s off to her regular Spina duties, meeting with sponsors, helping the community, and pouring herself into investigation for the rest of the day until Melus and Silver sit her down to have at least some food to make up for the lost energy. She continues about her day then, no matter how late it is, and works and works and works. Digging up clues and following leads until she decides it’s finally time to pass out into a fitful sleep.
Just a little thought for herself. A little better than how she’s been since that day. And every little bit counts, right?
It’s a new morning now, and thankfully it’s a day where Navia feels good enough to actually take a morning walk out before attending to any work. Melus and Silver don’t complain anyhow. Navia guesses they’re simply happy to see their lady out and about rather than holing herself up in her office amongst piles and piles of notes and files.
Arouet comes by to serve them, balancing three steaming cups of coffee and a plate of pastries on a tray.
“Good morning monsieurs! Good to see you, Demoiselle,” it seems Navia’s not the only one in a sunny mood today. One by one, Arouet sets down the mugs, with the sugar cubes and pastries last to come, closest to Navia on the table. Each smiles with a “thank you” until their server reaches onto the tray and reveals a single copy of today’s issue of The Steambird . “I’m afraid I can only give each table one copy today.” He sets it down in front of Melus, who takes it curiously while Navia and Silver grab eagerly at the food. “The café only received a fraction of our usual share of today’s papers. Apparently their deliveryboy caused a ruckus at their headquarters.” He tucks the tray under his arm and looks over his shoulder in the direction of the Steambird. “They thought to send out a newbie journalist to cover his route instead, since everyone else was busy cleaning up after our usual kid. But the poor man didn’t even have enough left to give us half of our usual stock.”
Melus chuckles and straightens the paper in his hands. “Hah! You need not worry, sir. One paper will be just fine for us. Demoiselle and Silver rarely give it as thorough of a read as I do, anyhow.” He and Arouet share a laugh as the latter wishes them a good meal and walks back to the cafe.
Sugar cubes plop into Navia’s cup. As she stirs in her sweetener, she gazes around the table at her attendants, a smile settling on her face at how satisfied Silver seems to be with his toast. Melus’ expression is hidden by the newspaper, which he has yet to really open- some headline it must be, she thinks.
“Melus,” her spoon clinks on the edge of her coffee cup as she sits up a little taller in her chair. She studies the sections on the back page. There’s some lesser astrology columns not from the main writer, and recipes included. Maybe she should ask him to save those for later. “While I do get the latest from the Steambird from you, what kind of President would I be if I didn’t give it a little peek from time to time?”
“Not a bad idea, Demoiselle,” Silver pipes up through a mouthful of bacon, idly watching people go by in front of the cafe.
“See, Silver gets it!” Navia cheers, and leans forward expectantly, reaching across the table for the newspaper. “I have to keep up with all the latest in Fontaine anyway. It’s a good idea to get leads on the missing persons case, anyhow–”
Melus tugs the paper down just as her fingertips brush over the top of the pages. “Demoiselle,” he starts uneasily, like a warning, holding the paper to himself. For the first time since he’s started reading, Navia is able to see his expression clearly. She falters, smile and hand dropping just slightly at the sight. It’s rare to see Melus like this- almost distressed, eyes lost in disbelief and practically pleading for her to drop the subject.
It pricks at her brain in an odd way. She’s used to his concern, having grown up under his care, but it seems… different this time. His expression deepens even further, sticking to his pointed silence.
Stubborn as ever, though, she presses on.
“Is… the headline that bad? I’m all grown up now, y’know!” She laughs, a weak attempt to lighten the mood, but Silver seems to notice the difference too, as he slowly sets down his bread in favor of what’s happening in front of him. “I’ve seen plenty of awful things throughout our investigations. Besides, they wouldn’t put something so terrible on the front page , would they!” She braces herself anyway as she finally gets her hand on the paper, and it’s only then she realizes that Melus’s hand is trembling.
“Demoiselle…”
Navia gives him a look. “Melus.”
Silver shifts uncomfortably beside them.
Hesitant, but stern, Navia guides the paper over to her side of the table. Melus finally lets it leave his grasp. Perhaps it’s something about the serial disappearances case, she figures, turning it the proper way. Maybe some twist they haven’t thought of before? Even if it derails all the theories she has going on right now, she knows she’s prepared to change course and try out other paths of logic.
What she’s not prepared for, however, is what meets her eyes when she finally reads the headline.
Champion Duelist Clorinde out of commission for the foreseeable future! Two weeks missing from the public eye! Where is Fontaine’s strongest now?
Navia’s stomach drops. “ What? ”
Clorinde. A name she hasn’t uttered for two years.
Her ex best friend. Her ex lover. Her father’s killer.
She’s gonna throw up. A wave of emotions crashes through her body, and she barely feels the newspaper slip between her fingers as her mind whirls. Guilt, anger, fear, longing . She can’t be thinking of her first thing in the morning. She can’t be worrying about her like this when she hasn’t spoken a word to her in so long.
With a shuddering breath, she gulps. It’s only then she realizes her mouth is dry. She’s going to throw up. Her shaking hands reach for the paper again, but her now blurry vision-
There’s a hand on her shoulder, a comforting weight. She looks up, eyes focusing on Melus’ somber face, his hand squeezing just slightly. He’s here, and so is Silver. They’re here for her. Navia tries her hardest to take in some air with Silver’s guidance, giving her best attempt at a deep breath, then takes the newspaper from him. He’s scooted his chair closer to her along with Melus.
Two weeks since the duel that shook the one and only undefeated Champion Duelist! After her clumsiest fight since taking her title, Clorinde has not been seen in the ring or in the streets by reporters and fans alike. Witnesses of the duel recount her performance, describing her movements as “sloppy” and “unbecoming of a fighter with her status.” Others laugh at her near-fall on stage toward the end and criticize her lack of determination in a fight against such an average opponent. What everyone we’ve interviewed agreed on, however, is their concern for their Champion. Clorinde was seen shaking and coughing into a handkerchief as she fled the arena.
Some speculate her irregular performance was due to illness, despite Champion Duelist Clorinde having fought sick before without difficulty, let alone any that could deal a blow to her record. Others think there was foul play involved on the defendant’s end. Iudex Neuvillette has made a statement that the Champion Duelist is out of commission for the time being, but will not elaborate any further on the matter.
It takes her a minute to read through, stunned into silence and still trying her best to grip at reality. Silver is rubbing her back while Melus opens a bottle of water for her. She takes it gratefully and continues, but the more she reads, the more she grows… confused.
The next section is about the case itself. It reads of an ordinary dispute, with an ordinary defendant. Some Monsieur Ranier who had threatened his friend with some baseless claim. There are no extreme organizations or big names involved at all.
No connections, no big twist in his case? Just some fisherman who’s too proud for his own good?
How is this the man that nearly took down Clorinde?
She skims over the article again, just to be sure she’s not missing any details. But her eyes keep drifting back to one line. “Clorinde was seen shaking and coughing into a handkerchief as she fled the arena.” Navia’s mind traces back to memories that sting in a special way since Clorinde left. Patching up Clorinde’s old wounds and scolding her for training so intensely in extreme conditions her own father wouldn’t even let her in. The gentle care, the love in it all…
It brings a chill to her entire body, the thought that Clorinde is somewhere out there, worse for wear– or even not out there at all.
A familiar frost creeps up her spine, replacing the warm coffee in her stomach with the cool prickling of dread. It’s a feeling she’s come to know far too well for her own taste. For Clorinde to be gone before they even get to talk again? Before she can tell her she still cares? Before she can tell Clorinde that she still wants her in her life despite everything that tore them apart?
She shakes the thoughts from her mind, and the welling tears from her eyes. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the paper in her hands, crumpling its sides as a determined look steels on her face. Her seat flies backward from beneath her, and she calls her attendants to her side.
She wants answers.
///
The newspaper had mentioned foul play, and she decides that’s what she’s out investigating– for drugs or poison used on Fontaine’s strongest. It’s finding answers for justice, for the fairness of the fight, not because the thought of losing Clorinde, or her already being dead, actually shakes her to the core of her being.
The rest of the day is spent with Silver and Melus (as per usual) gathering information about this Monsieur Ranier and the other people involved in the case. The second part of her new routine. Interrogations, watching words on files blur together as the day goes by, forgoing dinner, and meeting informants in the Fleuve Cendre.
An uneasiness follows Navia throughout the day, into the late night that she currently walks out into from the Fleuve Cendre’s main doors. Stars glitter above her head along with street lights that do nothing to warm the icy feeling in her stomach. She bites her lip as she goes over the discoveries of the day.
Nothing. Nothing new, nothing that wasn’t already stated in the article. No access to any peculiar goods, or organizations that Navia is familiar with. Ranier really is just some normal fisherman, just as the papers made him seem. His coworkers say he’s not very strong, and even call him clumsy and careless. So why him? How was it his sword that nearly cost Clorinde her reputation in the span of four minutes? Her head pounds from all the thoughts, mundane details bouncing in her head in an endless cacophony of confusion.
“I’m gonna go take a walk.” Her voice cuts into the peaceful silence of the night, ever so slightly startling Melus and Silver behind her.
Melus clears his throat. “Demoiselle? It is already quite late. We should make our way back to Poisson as soon as possible.” ‘You need to sleep,’ she knows he’s holding back.
She holds in a sigh of her own. She just needs to be alone for a few minutes, to rid herself of the cold, cold feeling of the unknown. She knows she’ll sleep even worse than usual tonight if she can’t calm down before stepping into her room. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Just a walk around the street, that’s it!” She turns on her heel and tries her best to conjure up a warm smile despite the ice quickly overtaking her insides. “We’ve all put in some hard work today. I think a quick stroll around the Court on such a beautiful night will be just the thing I need to wind down before we head on home. ”
“... Very well.” Melus nods and stays where he is, Silver stepping to his side. “We will wait for you here, Demoiselle. Enjoy your walk.”
Gratefully Navia parts ways with them- it’s a good thing Melus is able to read her like this. If she were to spend any more time focused on Clorinde’s sudden disappearance, she thinks she would implode.
Her footsteps echo in the empty street. She walks purposefully slower than usual, simply peering up at the stars and maintaining her steady breathing while she still has control over it. In; she tries to connect the stars above into a rose. Out; the dots of a thorn turn into the hilt of a sword, and she wrinkles her nose as her train of thought leads her back to exactly what she wants to escape.
The warm spring air does nothing to ease her troubles.
This late at night, there’s hardly anyone walking around but the occasional night owl or garde. It’s no surprise to her when a figure coming her way starts to walk faster to pass her by. And it’s not as if she wants to entertain any conversation right now anyway. Her eyes flicker back to what’s in front of her, a short break from craning her neck to stare at the sky.
This whole time, she’s felt as if she’s moving on autopilot so she can focus on her breathing. She knows her way around the city, of course, but the streets are beginning to look a little too familiar. Stone path, a bakery on the right, a jewelry store on her left. And… two buildings from the corner of the street…
Archons. She knows this road. She knows these buildings. She’s been down this path so many times before, but never to make this same stop in the last two years.
Her mind desperately fights against her body, begging it to turn back, but it answers only to her heart, that is dead set on carrying her to her destination. It races against her ribs, as if full of feverish excitement and not the dread that is quickly beginning to fill the rest of her body.
She watches as her feet come to a halt just in front of Clorinde’s door, the very place she’s been trying to avoid all day, despite it being the biggest source of information she could go to. She stands beside dusty planters that are only half-filled with dirt. A memory flickers in her mind of the exact same planters filled with colorful flowers at her own request.
She shouldn’t be here.
But her heart betrays her mind once more and she watches helplessly as her pretty gloved hand reaches up to knock on the door. Twice in quick succession, then two slow, heavy thunks. The old knock to her and Clorinde’s secret childhood hangout spot. She bites her lip as the cold takes over again, and begs to the archons that Clorinde doesn’t remember- if she’s even inside right now.
A part of her pleads for her to be there. So she can finally get Clorinde off her mind and see that, yes, she is indeed fretting over nothing, and yes, she is probably going crazy, going to see the woman she hasn’t talked to in two years. The woman she misses so very much that it aches and feels like a part of her soul is missing from when she wakes up to when she goes to bed.
Her mind is running again. There’s tears welling up in her eyes, but there’s absolutely no time to collect herself, because the door creaks halfway open and-
There stands Clorinde. In all her glory; in a lavender nightgown Navia remembers gifting her four years back, with her silky hair down and so, so soft-looking that Navia can barely think of all that’s happened when the thought of reaching out to touch her fills her mind. Clorinde sleepily rubs at her eye as her other hand falls from the doorknob. The sight of her is so vulnerable, so… so present, and real, and unlike all the times Navia catches a glimpse of her in her peripheral; out of reach, like Clorinde intends to stay at least fifteen feet away from her at all times. It makes her poor heart squeeze in her chest.
Well! There’s the answer she's really been looking for, her brain quips in retaliation. Clorinde is alive and well! Now Navia can leave before Clorinde even sees her and pretend today never happened!! She can go back to living her life, separated from her best friend, just like she’s trying so hard to get used to.
But then Clorinde starts talking. Her eyes are still shut, and she’s starting to lean against the open door. ”Sigewinne… did you forget any equipment?” Archons, Navia forgets how attractive her voice is when she’s just woken up.
Wait.
Sigewinne? Equipment!?
“You are sick.” Navia gasps. A storm of emotions swirls through her all at once. She would’ve laughed at the way Clorinde yanks open the door at the sound of her voice if not for the anger simmering inside her. Why is she so angry?
Her body moves on its own again, but her mind and heart make no moves to stop it. She takes the open door as an invitation and pushes her way inside- Clorinde doesn’t try to stop her either. Before she knows it, she’s talking again, and there’s no stopping the flood of feelings tumbling from her lips. “Nobody’s seen you, or heard from you, for almost two weeks. There are rumors going around that you are dead. People out there are worried. ” I’m worried. There’s fear in Clorinde’s eyes, but Navia pushes on. She can’t (and won’t) stop herself now that Clorinde is finally in front of her, forced to listen. “When I read that headline—“
”Headline?” Clorinde’s voice is small, confused, and the ice in Navia’s chest hardens just a little, refusing to let her crumble at her tone.
“—I immediately went to seek answers. You’ve never faltered before in a duel. Not once. Opponents faint the second they realize they’re against you. You have never faltered! Not when they’re stronger, or crueler, or manic, or—“ Or when they’re your girlfriend’s father. “Or when they pull some- some underhanded trick out of their sleeves. So what. The hell . Was different about this fight?!”
The fear blooms brighter in Clorinde’s eyes the moment her back hits the wall. Her hand is clamped over her mouth, and she’s shrunken beneath Navia’s fiery gaze. They’re still a few feet apart. Navia’s shadow shrouds Clorinde from the light of the open door, and the latter’s eyes flicker between it and Navia like she’s trying to escape. The hunter has become the prey. The thought stirs up a sickening satisfaction in Navia’s stomach.
But it disappears in less than a second.
Clorinde whirls around in place, the sudden movement making Navia step back, and a shuddering retch echoes in the hallway. Her body thunks onto the wall, slumped onto her side. Navia, in her fury, hadn’t even noticed she was this weak. Clorinde’s coughs only get louder. Something dark spatters on the walls by her face, and Navia is frozen in place with her arm outstretched as golden roses, speckled red, fall from pale lips to the floor.
The only sound now is their breathing. Clorinde’s breaths are heavy. And shaky. And horrifyingly wet , a stark contrast to Navia’s panicked, shallow puffs. When Clorinde speaks, her voice is somehow even worse to listen to. “Please,” she croaks. “ Leave. ” She stumbles again with her weight on the wall, smearing the specks of blood as she refuses to even turn and face Navia.
Leave? The cold takes over once more, fully encasing her shattering heart just enough for her to think of anything else but rushing over to gather Clorinde in her arms and hold her close. Leave Clorinde alone in this state for the rest of the night, after just throwing up a whole rose somehow, looking like she could die at any second?!
“I-I’m getting Sigewinne!” Finally, her brain takes over again, and her autopilot has her flying out the door, back down the streets to Melus and Silver.
She’s huffing and gasping for air by the time she reaches them, struggling to stay on her feet as she forces the words from her mouth. “Sigewinne! Have either of you seen her?” She can’t have gone far- Navia realizes the figure she’d passed by earlier on Clorinde’s block must have been her.
Silver’s already stepping away as he starts, “She was heading this way just a second ago, Demoiselle.”
Melus nods, holding Navia steady. “Silver and I watched her enter the hotel by the boutique. We helped her carry a few bags.”
“Good, go get her. Tell her it’s an emergency!” She yells after Silver, nodding hurriedly as he breaks into a run and almost trips over himself skidding to a stop at the hotel entrance. Not even a minute later, Sigewinne is dashing out with Silver right behind her, carrying a baby blue briefcase of what Navia assumes is the necessary equipment. Her and Melus join them, and the four of them make it back to Clorinde’s house in no time to find her sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, fallen from when Navia had last seen her.
The next few minutes go by in a blur. She’s thankful Melus and Silver don’t question anything; how Clorinde ended up this way or why there are bloody flowers in the hallway and the bedroom floor, as the three of them half-carry Clorinde back into bed. Navia’s body feels mechanical, like a Gardemek simply following its programming, as she holds Clorinde with the same care she would when they were younger. The same care Clorinde would take to hold her when they’d cry over their childhood worries.
Navia comes to again, and she doesn’t ever remember sitting down, but she’s at the bedside watching the thin blanket over Clorinde’s body rise and fall with each unsteady breath. It’s only then that Navia can really tell how fucked up Clorinde looks right now.
It’s no wonder that she hasn’t been out in public. How would Fontainians react to seeing her in this state? It’d bring her such unwanted attention. Much more than she could handle normally, let alone like this. Navia can hardly handle seeing Clorinde like this herself, as her eyes chance a look up at Clorinde’s face.
Chapped lips, thinning hair, hollow cheeks, eye bags dark as a bruise. It’s harrowing, Navia thinks, seeing the strongest person she knows look more fragile than glass. Again, she almost wants to reach out to her, but a memory cuts in to stop her.
“What are you doing up?!” The moon casts a cool light on the bed where Clorinde sits, rubbing the sleep from her eyes to meet Navia’s shocked gaze. She’s crouched in the windowsill, like a bird perched on a rooftop. She’s holding the window steady above her to make sure she doesn’t– “Woah!”
THUNK!
The window slams closed, and little ten-year-old Navia springs up from the floor, rubbing her knee. Both her and Clorinde whip their heads to the door in a panic. No footsteps echo in the hallway, and they properly focus their attention back on each other.
Clorinde scoots over to make some room on the bed. How she’s not even thinking to question Navia right now, Navia doesn’t know. But she’s grateful for it anyway as she sits on the corner. “I was getting tissues. I forgot to restock my pile before trying to sleep.” Her voice is a little hoarse, and Navia gasps as she leans forward, cupping Clorinde’s face like she’s about to give her an inspection.
“So you are sick!” She realizes what she’s doing and lets go, fingertips lingering on her cheeks that are quickly starting to feel warm to the touch. “I was wondering why you haven’t come over in so long.”
“It’s been four days,” Clorinde smiles fondly at her, and helps Navia lift the blanket so she can get in beside her.
“Four days too long.”
“Master said I should focus on getting better before anything else.”
“Miss Petronilla’s letting you rest for once? Thank goodness!” Navia whisper-yells, leaning her head on Clorinde’s shoulder. Clorinde only does the same when she’s done looking at the door to make sure her master hadn’t heard. Their hands find each other then, and Navia plays with Clorinde’s fingers, sidling closer to her to feel her warmth. “Y’know, I get scared whenever you disappear like this.”
“So you always climb up to my window in the middle of the night when it happens?” Clorinde giggles. It tapers off into a little coughing fit, and Navia rubs her back like the nurse does to her when she’s sick, turning her head to avoid showing her embarrassment.
“No! I-I mean… Miss Petronilla works you to death sometimes,” she sighs. “Papa and I both get worried. Sometimes when you come over, you look like you’re gonna fall over.”
“I always feel better after dinner, though.”
“Yeah, you eat, like, half the food!” They laugh together, hushed in the quiet of the night. “You deserve it though. With how hard you’re training.” Navia properly intertwines their fingers, resting their joined hands on Clorinde’s lap as she sighs once more. “Why are you training so hard anyway? I think I’d be crying if Papa was as hard on me as Miss Petronilla is on you.”
It’s Clorinde’s turn to face the other way then. Concerned, Navia lifts her cheek from her shoulder. She squeezes Clorinde’s hand just a little harder, to try and make her turn back. She can’t see her expression from here, but she can tell that Clorinde’s just a little embarrassed, as she clears her throat softly and starts speaking. “I-”
“Girls.”
For the second time that night, the two draw their attention to the door in a snap, where a cranky Petronilla stands with her arms crossed.
“Master…”
Petronilla shakes her head, but there’s no trace of anger in her stare. “Save your voice. Focus on resting. Which the both of you should be doing at this hour.” Navia scoots a little closer to Clorinde, hugging her tighter. “Navia, I will take you back in the morning.”
Despite herself, Navia gasps in excitement. “You mean I can stay?”
She nods. “It will probably help Clorinde sleep easier. And I don’t feel like leaving the house just yet.” The last part is muttered, but Navia can’t even hear it; she’s cheering loud enough to make the others in the room wince.
“Sorry! Sorry,” she giggles sheepishly. “I’ll make sure Clorinde doesn’t leave my side at all tonight!” Grinning widely, she lets her head fall onto Clorinde’s shoulder again, hugging her close while the other tries to reach for a tissue on her nightstand.
“Mhm. Sleep now, girls. We’ll leave early tomorrow, Navia.” Petronilla doesn’t pay them any more attention as the door slips shut and she returns to her own room.
“Hah! You’re stuck with me for the rest of the night now.” Navia scoots down beneath the covers while Clorinde blows her nose.
“Great,” Clorinde rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her as she sinks into the mattress as well. She yawns as she pulls the blanket over her shoulders. “You’re not going to terrorize me while I’m sleeping, are you?”
Navia yawns too, the late hour finally catching up to her. “Course not. I’m getting pretty sleepy too.”
Clorinde hums in acknowledgment. She only speaks again a moment later. “It probably isn’t a good idea for us to be so close all night, though. What if you get sick, too?”
“Too late!” Navia nuzzles her cheek into Clorinde’s shoulder. “I’m sticking by your side no matter what, Clorinde.”
“Promise?” Clorinde chuckles, and Navia’s heart skips a beat at the sleepy tenderness in her voice.
“I promise.” She holds her hand tighter and finally lets her eyes flutter shut. “G’night, Clo.”
“Goodnight, Navi.”
The thud of shoes against the floor snaps Navia back to the present in an instant (She’s happy to have something else take up her attention instead of the rest of the memory. Navia’s not ready to think about how Clorinde was practically wrapped around her in the morning, or how hard it was to peel her arms off when it was time for her to leave and Clorinde hadn’t awoken yet). On the other side of the bed, Sigewinne’s- ears? Antennae?- sway with every step until she’s standing right next to where Navia sits, pulling up her own stool beside her. “You seem to be lost in thought, Miss Navia,” her cheery voice brings a bit of ease, until Navia realizes she can’t say exactly what’s on her mind. Because, ‘Oh yes, I was just thinking about the first time Clorinde and I slept in the same bed and I’m scared that the warmth I felt from her before will now just slip away in an instant,’ doesn’t seem like the best thing to say in the moment!!!
So instead, she forces herself to look at Clorinde’s sleeping form again and sighs. “It’s just… sad, to see her like this. And confusing. And scary ,” she suddenly processes the fact that she’d watched a rose come out of Clorinde’s mouth earlier, like a horror show right in front of her eyes. “How did… flowers?”
“Hmm, it’s a good thing you caught me, huh?” Her gaze floats over to Clorinde as well. “Hanahaki disease is a scary sickness to see.”
“Hanahaki disease?” Navia echoes. She’s never heard of this before– she’s certainly never seen anything like it happen to anyone in her life.
Sigewinne nods. “Mhm. It’s on the rare side, so there’s not much that anybody really knows about it. I think it only came up in my studies a couple of times. But vision users are reported to be more susceptible to it because of their closer connection to the elements. The books read that the disease is caused by repressed feelings for another person, though I’ve also read that it can be caused by one-sided love.” Navia has to stop her eye from twitching.
“The person’s feelings manifest into a seed, rooted deep in their lungs. In its early stages, it’s rather easy to ignore, or not catch at all. The symptoms aren’t anything more than a minor cough here and there. But the more those feelings grow, so does the seed. Over time, the patient will begin to cough or vomit flowers- and those start off small, too.” The rose that came from Clorinde earlier definitely wasn’t small. “Eventually, the flowers and stems will either grow so large that they block the patient’s airways, or they sprout from the skin of the rest of the body and make a garden out of them.” A morbid curiosity now glows in Sigewinne’s eyes. “The disease of fatal feelings. As scary as it is, it is rather fascinating, too.”
Navia’s jaw is on the floor. She knows she’s probably pale as the moon with the absolute avalanche of information Sigewinne just dropped on her, but she also knows she has to say something . “That… that sounds terrible…” Clorinde is going through this? This wretched of a disease, over… she can’t even think about it. Navia hugs herself, a vain attempt to try and keep herself from freezing over in horror.
“Yes, it is. Terrible and fascinating. The few people who heard about it from me all react the same as you did just now.” Sigewinne fidgets with her bow. “But there is a cure. It’s the only one known about in the world of medicine, a surgical procedure. By removing the seed, you remove the root of all the issues,” she looks like she’s trying to stifle a smirk at her unintentional pun. Navia would’ve probably flipped. “It doesn’t come without its drawbacks, though. The seed, it basically absorbs all of the person’s romantic feelings to bloom. So when that goes away… so does the patient’s ability to love…”
Navia’s blood runs cold. It’s either Clorinde dies, or she decides to go through with this surgery, and never gets to love anyone again? Never love her again?
“M-miss Navia, please let go of your arms!”
Her arms? Oh. She relaxes her grip, and as she pulls her hands away, she notices the little drops of blood forming on her skin. “I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to scare you, or get so carried away!” Sigewinne rushes back over with a few small bandages and wipes the blood away. She keeps talking, a panicked attempt to comfort her. “There is some speculation of another cure, actually! B-but it hasn’t been reported to work… If the person confesses to the object of their affections, then the disease may go away!” For such a fatal disease to be cured that easily? A confrontation over a life-altering surgery? Seems far fetched. But…
Navia’s eyes drift back to Clorinde. She feels the cold creep into her heart again, even when she puts a hand over her chest to try and soothe the ache. So just like that, she can lose Clorinde completely? As angry as she is with her– as angry as she should be with all that’s happened– she never wanted it to turn out this way. She never wanted Clorinde to be a stranger.
As angry as she is with her, she never wanted her to die.
“Maybe it’d be a good idea to go home now, Miss Navia,” Sigewinne says meekly, guiding her to stand. “You’ve had a very long night, it’s no good for you to lose so much sleep after all of this.”
She’s right, Navia knows. She is tired. Her body aches, cries for sleep, just as her heart cries for her old friend. So she peels herself reluctantly from Clorinde’s bedside, the memory of that promise all those years ago to a sick Clorinde ringing in her head. She thanks Sigewinne for her efforts and wishes her a good night. With Melus and Silver by her side (as per usual), she trudges back to Poisson and collapses into a fitful sleep, to properly top off another day of her new routine.
///
Navia doesn’t visit the next day. She can’t bring herself to even try and set foot out of her home in the morning, the little drive she’d managed to pick up for herself over the past week suddenly hollowed out and replaced by a new wave of grief, of impending doom. Breakfast is a bowl of cereal that Navia only sets aside on her desk until Melus, who brought it to her in the first place, takes away her papers and has a stare-off with her until she has a few spoonfuls. Some of her trusted advisors are sent out to take care of her Spina duties, which gives her ample time to pour herself back into case files and notes about the serial disappearances case. It’s sunset when she leaves the house, and she can practically feel the lack of watchful eyes on her back as she investigates some new leads she’d made up in her own head to get herself away from her desk. When she comes back home and drags herself to her cold, empty bed, she rubs her sore eyes and tries and fails to fall asleep again and again.
She knows she should’ve visited Clorinde, and she knows she has a chance to go tomorrow. But a louder part of her fears what will greet her if– when she goes back. It was already terrifying enough to see her so fragile the day before, passed out so her body can do the best it can to fight off that horrible disease. Will Clorinde even be awake? Conscious? Will she even be there, still, or will Sigewinne greet her at the door with a somber look and a shake of her head, confirming that the worst has come? Navia clings tightly to her pillow tonight, as tight as her heart wants to hold Clorinde.
Day ten; happy double digits, Navia thinks weakly. She takes a small bite of her bacon, but her wavering appetite doesn’t allow her to have much more than half a slice. Her mind is blank, her heart feels heavy in her chest, and she can feel herself settling into the same coldness that she was just starting to claw her way out of, at twice the speed she had the last time. Melus is saying something, probably trying to gently get her to eat some more, but frantic knocking on the front door severs the thick fog in her brain.
It’s rare that Spina members report directly to her home rather than through her attendants, let alone so early in the morning, before she’s even gone out, so Navia tries to collect herself the best she can. “I’ll get it,” she insists, scooting past Melus, who is already on his way to open the door.
She turns the knob and pulls open the door to- nobody? “Miss Navia?” Her eyes follow the mitten-hand at the edge of her vision, and she’s greeted by the sight of a blue melusine in an apron and hat similar to Sigewinne’s. “Hihi, we don’t– we don’t have much time, Miss Navia! My name is Nicolette. I’m one of the melusines on Clorinde’s care team. I’m working under Sigewinne right now, and there’s been an emergency!” Nicolette fishes into a pocket in her apron and pulls out a letter, a paper that’s most definitely seen better days. Navia’s eyes widen, her adrenaline starting to pump as the worry stews within her again. She scans the area and brings Nicolette inside, then sits her across the dining room table as she takes the letter from her hands.
“Sigewinne was getting very very worried last night, you see.” Nicolette’s hands tap together nervously. “Miss Clorinde has been progressing very quickly through the stages of hanahaki, and– well, she started coughing worse than we’d ever heard from her this morning. When Sigewinne called me and Dany in, she shoved that letter into my hands. Apparently this is what was causing such an outburst! She’s alive right now, and Sigewinne sent me to go find you and give you the paper, and some Spina Di Rosula members directed me here. Thank goodness you’re here…”
Oh, this definitely looks like an emergency, Navia thinks. She picks up the folded sheet again with trembling fingers. It’s stained with blood, and warped in certain spots with what Navia can only assume to be tears, and as she turns the letter over to the back, she sees her own name written in Clorinde’s usually neat handwriting.
She purses her lips. Navia knows she’s likely not prepared for whatever’s on the other side of this paper, but her fingers work to unfold it nevertheless.
To my dear Navia,
If you are reading this, the worst has happened. I have decided to forgo the surgery that Sigewinne suggested, although it may have been too late for me when it was offered anyway.
I want to apologize to you for being so cruel. From the bottom of my heart, from the deepest part of my soul, I am sorry for taking so much from you, for causing you so much grief. I am sorry for taking your father away, and for being so close to you for so long only to betray you so deeply. Not a day goes by that I do not try to fulfill his final wish, for me to protect you for as long as you live. But as of recent, with this illness, I have failed at my duties. As such, I am more than willing to face the consequences.
Think whatever you want of me, but I want you to know that I will die with no hatred in my heart for you. I will die with these regrets, but you will never be one of them. You can hate me freely, and never forgive me now that I am gone. Thank you, Navia, for coming into my life and showing me all there is to love in this world. All there is that is good. To me, you have always been the sun. The shining star to warm and light my days. I have, and always will, lo
The letter remains unfinished, the final word smeared and splattered with ink, showing exactly where Clorinde’s body had forced her to stop.
Navia turns the letter over, and over again, looking for more, searching for anything more than the defeated words on the front, but in a few seconds, she’s shaking so hard that she drops it entirely. She feels like she’s suffocating. Her mouth opens and closes– she doesn’t know whether she’s gasping or screaming, and her vision whirls, obscured by tears and a sudden lightheadedness. Dread. Dread, that awfully familiar sinking tears at her from the inside again as her mind attacks her with realizations.
Clorinde wasn’t even going to try and reach out, to tell her all of this in person, even in the early stages, when she must have only been coughing up little buds and soft petals. Sigewinne offered her the surgery, yet she refused. She allowed herself to get this bad, she forced herself to go throughout her days, her job, like nothing was wrong, until she made a show out of it like she never wanted, despite knowing the treatment. Because she saw it as the ultimate punishment for what she’s done to Navia. An eye for an eye, a leg for a leg, a life for a life.
Clorinde wholeheartedly believes she deserves this. She has from the beginning. It’s only fair, only just, in her mind that she succumbs, that she dies too, that she falls like Navia’s father.
Navia still knows how Clorinde’s mind works. How her heart works, after two years of not speaking to her. It pains her to no end that this is how she finds it out.
Blindly, she reaches for the nearest figure in her sight. She doesn’t know who it is, or if it’s even a person, but her hands close in on their shoulders in a death grip as she hiccups through her wails. “Please, I have to see her. Take me to see her! ”
///
They’re off to Clorinde’s house immediately. The ride to the city feels five times longer than it should. Navia struggles not to vomit in her panic, and she can barely feel the hands on her trying to comfort her and keep her upright as they move as a unit through the Court.
She doesn’t care who sees. She doesn’t care what she looks like. Wind and rain whip at her face, and she swears she rolls her ankles at some point with how clumsily she’s running, but none of it matters in the face of this emergency. She has to see Clorinde before she slips through her fingers again. Before she loses her a final time.
Silver throws open the door just in time for Navia to come skidding into the hallway, just slightly spooking another melusine standing by Clorinde’s door. The melusines make themselves scarce as Navia rushes through the hall, clammy hands struggling with the doorknob for only a moment. No damn door is going to keep her from seeing Clorinde.
When she finally gets it open, however, she feels the need to slam it shut all over again. Her hand drops to her side. She stands frozen in the doorway, barely able to comprehend Clorinde’s condition.
Nicolette wasn’t kidding when she said Clorinde is worsening quickly. She’s a far cry from how she was just two days ago, and Navia’s body wants to collapse and wail again at the mere sight of her. There’s so many roses, not just on the blankets, but on Clorinde herself. Her right eye is swollen shut. A rose bud sits half-bloomed along a gory, thorny vine cutting out of her cheek. And the stem doesn’t stop there. It peeks and scrapes through much of her exposed skin, thorns painfully poking through old scars and previously unmarred skin alike. The blanket lumps oddly in places; Navia can only imagine the cluster of flowers jutting out in a sickening bouquet close to Clorinde’s heart, ending just above her collarbone.
Clorinde looks hopeless like this, the only way of knowing she’s really still alive being the beeping from Sigewinne’s monitor. But then Clorinde opens her working eye, and Navia’s heart breaks all over again. There’s a sense of peace in her gaze, of acceptance that makes Navia feel the exact opposite. Weakly, Clorinde starts talking with her hoarse, rumbling voice. It’s as if the sound has to scrape its way past all of the flora in her airway. “I… I’m sorry.”
Cold. Navia is cold, so cold, as she practically scampers toward the side of the bed. It helps her harden her resolve, ice holding her together enough to choke out a response. “You said that plenty of times here.” She’s still clutching the letter with a white-knuckled grip, holding it up just enough for Clorinde to see before Navia stiffly drops her hands back to her sides. “So you were just going to die? You were going to let all of this take over?” They both feel the weight of Clorinde’s guilt in her silence. The only other sound besides the beep of the monitor is Sigewinne shuffling out of the room and trying her best to shut the door quietly. It’s dark without the hallway lamp, save for a single bedside candle.
How grave.
Navia is fed up with it, how Clorinde turns away like she doesn’t even deserve to look Navia in the eye. She steps closer, towering over Clorinde’s sickly delicate form on the bed. “Clorinde,” her voice wavers, “I’m not here to forgive you completely. I… I cannot give that to you yet.” Clorinde’s lips seem to twitch- Navia has to butt in before she tunes out everything else completely.
“But I need to make apologies of my own. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, for shutting you out. And- and being so cold all this time. Did you really think I didn’t miss you too? Back then, more than anything, I needed someone to be there with me in my grief. I needed my best friend- I needed you , Clorinde.” Tears and snot are streaming down her face, but she doesn’t care to wipe them away. She just wants Clorinde to look at her, show any sign that she’s really listening , instead of that solemn look on her face that seems to be set in stone. “I lost both my father and my lover the day of that duel. Yes, I’m angry at what happened, and I don’t- I’m just barely coming to terms with everything, but I never wanted you to die because of it!”
She doesn’t remember falling to the floor, on shaking knees. Her whole body weighs down with her despair, enough that she can barely lift her arm to clutch at Clorinde’s hand. Thorns poke through the lace of her gloves- oh, her lifeline, her beloved, her Clorinde. “Please.” Who is she begging to? It all seems futile when Clorinde barely has the strength to hold her hand properly. “Not like this! Not so soon. Not as strangers.”
The vines in Clorinde’s flesh shift, cutting her further as Navia weeps. She hears a faint exhale from above. Lifting her head, she sees a tear shine in the candlelight as it traces down Clorinde’s cheek. “I’m sorry. For leaving you behind, that day,” she husks out, barely audible. Navia holds her breath to hear her better, and soothes her thumb over Clorinde’s bloody hand as she coughs up more yellow petals. “The sword. The short sword I left you.” The one that Navia does her best attempt to polish every few days, that she keeps in her study to remind her of a presence she feared would never return. “I gave it to you then because I… I didn’t want our friendship to end.” She finally feels Clorinde’s fingers try to wrap around her hand in return. “I could never bear the thought of losing you. I can hardly live with myself knowing what I’ve done. I meant every single word on that page, and I mean every single word I’m saying aloud now.
I love you, Navia.”
With the confession out, Clorinde finally chokes on her words. Navia watches in terror as Clorinde starts shaking, muscles tightening as she claws at her own chest. The lesions in her skin saw themselves even wider, making room for more flowers, more vines, that bloom sickeningly fast over her skin. “Sigewinne! Sigewinne! ” Navia screams. Whether she actually comes in or not doesn’t register now, over the frantic beeping of the monitor and the feeling of silky petals filling her palm more than the skin of Clorinde’s hand. Every agonized breath, every groan, feels like thorns to her own heart. Navia can’t do anything more than hold her hand tighter.
Not like this. Not now. Not as strangers. Not when they still love each other.
The monitor stops beeping.
Repetition is replaced by a singular, haunting note.
Just as quickly as it started, everything screeches to a halt.
Clorinde stills on the bed, and Navia’s heart drops. “No. No, no, Clorinde, no.” She pushes off the floor, leaning desperately over her form. Trying to look into peaceful, shut eyes so different from the pain they were wrenched by just a moment before. “Please, please! Please don’t leave me, Clo! Oh, my Clorinde …” Please, please, please, please. The words echo painfully in her head, even when she doesn’t know who she’s begging to. If Focalors can even hear her, if she’ll even listen, as she clutches Clorinde’s pale, limp hand tightly to her lips.
A tone sounds from the monitor.
Clorinde gasps for air. And it’s terrifying how fast the roses recede into her skin. Over her arms, freeing her right eye, snaking away from her collarbone, leaving gaping wounds in their wake. But Clorinde’s chest still rises and falls. Just a bit higher, a bit heavier with every breath. She opens her mouth, as if to speak, but all that comes out is a nauseous heave as a flurry of petals flood from her lips. They blanket her body, over the covers. Every cough brings more and more to the surface. By the end of it, all that comes out are bitter seeds that scatter onto her lap, settling and caking in the blood.
Clorinde is alive.
Navia and Sigewinne stand in utter shock at either side of her. It only lasts for a moment before a determined look lights on Sigewinne’s face. “Dany! Nicolette! I need your help!” It’s Navia’s turn to make herself scarce as the melusines burst into the room, equipped with bandages and all sorts of other equipment while she sits uselessly in the corner chair.
What just happened. How is- Navia lifts her gaze again, just in time to meet Clorinde’s eyes.
Clorinde is alive. That is what matters. There is a weak sort of fear in the way she looks at Navia, that she can see more closely when the emergency care is done and Sigewinne gives Navia clearance to come and stand at her bedside again. With the strength she seems to muster much more easily now that there aren’t thorns digging into her lungs, Clorinde wordlessly reaches out her hand to the side of the bed. Navia takes the offer. Gently, her hand is guided to Clorinde’s lips, a kiss to the back from chapped lips that she would prefer over any others’. A silent promise, a plea for forgiveness. Even with closed eyes, Navia can read the remorse behind Clorinde’s expression, as well as the relief, not just for being alive, but to be able to hold her hand like this again.
For the first time since losing Clorinde, Navia feels a spark of hope that her life can and will get just a little bit better. Wherever she may end up now, whatever happens, she will not be alone. With Clorinde’s breath soft on her hand, warmth finally seeps back into her system. She feels the frost finally, finally recede from her soul.
///
“Ready to go, Miss President?”
“Oh, hush.”
It’s the second week of a new routine that Navia’s been starting to build up for herself. After Clorinde’s recovery- which turned out to really be simple maintenance for her wounds despite the whole ordeal of the disease- as well as a few much needed talks to properly address what came between them, Navia’s been finding little ways to include Clorinde more and more in her life.
The routine goes as such: have her breakfast wherever she feels like it, whether that be in her kitchen, or a café, or on Clorinde’s couch because she spontaneously decided she wanted pancakes this morning. Then it’s off to her regular Spina duties, meeting with sponsors, investigating, continuing to try and restore her father’s honor to the rest of Fontaine. She may skip meals from time to time, but it’s much easier now that there are two voices reminding (inisisting) her to take a quick break when she’s theorizing. Her evenings are usually spent for leisure now, getting back into the Tabletop Troupe and all sorts of little hobbies she’s had yet to get behind or give a try with whatever she has lying around the house. Then it’s off to bed to be ready for a whole new day and better things to come.
She mulls over the rest of her duties for the day as she brings Clorinde to her side by her forearm. Despite the months that have gone by, she still takes care to hold her gently, haunted by the sight and feel of bloody thorns.
Clorinde seems to read her mind. She slips her hand into Navia’s and holds her firmly, reassuringly as they wish Arouet a good day and continue down the street. “Where am I dropping you off today?”
“Nowhere in particular.” She puffs out her chest proudly. “I’m free until two today!”
Clorinde nods in return. “Good. Perhaps that will give us some time to flesh out the characters for the new campaign.” Their conversation flows freely on their way to the Troupe, about characters and sessions old and new. Ever the gentleman, Clorinde opens the door for Navia on the way in, but just as she finishes teasing her, Navia runs right into a young boy, sending him and his high stack of newspapers fluttering to the ground.
“Oops! Goodness, I’m sorry young man!” Navia chuckles as she kneels to the ground, moving to gather the papers and help him back up. Behind her, she can hear Clorinde doing the same. “Are you alright? Didn’t mean to run into you there.” She stacks the papers in her hand, and lifts the one in her hand curiously as she hands the rest over back to the boy.
Champion Duelist Clorinde is back, stronger than ever before! Months out of the ring and she returns like a force of nature!
A smile forms on her face as she reads the headline and wishes the paperboy good luck on the rest of his route. Navia knows Clorinde would rather do anything than indulge the Steambird reporters with an interview, so she lets her off with a simple, “Someone’s popular,” as they make their way inside.
It’s a good morning with Clorinde by her side, Navia thinks. And there will be many more to come.