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1:
The Curatorium of Secrets was a cozy little place, considering it was the headquarters of an entire intelligence agency. There was a fire in the hearth, warm carpets underfoot–even a black cat lazed upon the table, its eyes slitted with contentment as the others murmured amongst themselves.
It was nothing like the cold halls of the palace, Columbina mused as she reached over to brush the fur along the cat’s spine. It purred beneath her fingers as she rubbed its head, its jaws stretching wide in a lazy, long yawn. There had been no warmth there, and little happiness. She had decided as soon as she’d returned to Nod Krai that there had been no home for her there in that cold, distant land—even as her mind wandered then and again to the feeling of a cup warmed by tea, cradled in the palms of her hand.
The others were speaking of something. She didn’t quite care to follow as she stroked the cat’s back. Some days, it was harder than others to anchor herself to this world, to keep her feet on the ground as some distant part of her yearned more and more to simply let go of all her earthly troubles and float far, far away.
The rejection of this world was not always a painful thing. It was not always an ache beneath her skin, a prickling in her bones. Sometimes, it felt merely like she was being drawn away… Sometimes, it felt merely like she was floating.
Her eyes wandered across the room. The Traveler looked about as dazed as she felt as Nefer reviewed stacks upon stacks of papers, searching for some little line of information or another from her sources. There was too much happening, and too fast. Even Nefer herself had a crease in her brow, her shoulders hunched as she chased Rerir’s ghost.
Lauma ran a hand down Nefer’s arm, leaning close to murmur something quietly in her ear. Columbina watched curiously as Lauma’s arms wrapped around Nefer, as the two of them slotted together as easily as puzzle pieces. The Moonchanter’s chin found Nefer’s shoulder, and nestled there. Some small, minute tension seemed to drain out of Nefer’s taunt frame in answer.
Columbina glanced towards the Traveler, but if they noticed, they didn’t seem to care. They merely leaned back in their seat and sighed, glaring at Paimon as she suddenly snored, her small frame buried beneath a pile of cushions.
Columbina looked away quickly, focusing her attention once more on the cat. It eyed her curiously, meowing softly. She couldn’t help but smile as it pressed its head against her still hand, even as her mind wandered once more back to the two women.
She had known that there was something there between them. A true pairing, forged in love. Columbina did not know much of love. Love had always been a thing of greed, a bargain or a trade, something that had to either be earned or paid back. Those that had worshipped her had not truly loved her—they had loved what they thought she could do. The Fatui had been like that as well, for the most part. Some had looked at her with anticipation, waiting for her to act or to do some big, grand thing. One had looked at her with eyes slitted with greed, ready to see just how far he could push her. And the others—
She couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as she thought of Sandrone and Arlecchino. They hadn’t ever really asked her for much, had they? Merely to attend their tea parties. To join them as they talked about nothing, or complained viciously of their coworkers.
She’d never really had much to say, much to offer beyond bland mundanities or the occasional odd comment that would have both women furrowing their brows or, in Sandrone’s case, curling her lip in distaste. But she had attended, and she had done her best to stay as present as this world would ever allow her to be.
She almost giggled as she imagined what Sandrone might do if Columbina ever tried to lean on her back as Lauma did to Nefer. She could almost imagine the indignation as Sandrone would turn, her eyes wide and mouth ajar.
“What’re you doing?!” she’d probably yowl. “Columbina, you weirdo! You’re heavy! Get off me!”
2:
The Flagship was a busy, bustling place. It was at once both a source of awe and unease for Columbina. Dozens of people crowded into the tavern, cramming themselves into booths or at the stools by the bar. The reek of liquor hung heavy in the air, and drunken voices and hearty, rowdy laughter echoed across the room.
She resisted the urge to slap her hands over her ears as Varka howled with laughter, slinging an arm across Flins’s shoulders. His tankard frothed with the movement as the table shook, and the Traveler sighed at Columbina’s side.
“He’s wasted,” they whispered, shaking their head with a small smile. Their eyes shone like dull honey in the dim room, but there was still a small sparkle in their corners.
“It only took a whole barrel of Dandelion Wine,” Paimon groaned, sighing. “Seriously, haven’t you two had enough?!”
“What do you think?!” Varka demanded loudly to Flins, missing Paimon’s voice over the tavern’s roar. He gestured grandly to the Mondstadt sprites scattered across the table. “Aren’t they good?”
“Oh, they’re alright,” Flins said demurely. He sipped politely at a small glass of whatever concoction Varka had poured for them.
“Alright,” Varka echoed. “Just alright?! Impossible.”
With the concentration and severity of a man on a mission, Varka sprung from the table and disappeared towards the bar. It was some time before he returned with a sparkling glass and a fierce grin on his face.
He sipped it before them all and nodded seriously before shoving the glass into Flins’s hands.
“Try this,” he said. “C’mon, give it a try.”
Columbina expected the Lightkeeper to protest, or to at least ask what it was that Varka was handing him. But Flins merely took the offered glass with a hum, as if this were a ritual he was long used to and, judging by the small smirk on his face, even seemed to enjoy.
He sipped the glass slowly. Put it down. Varka leaned forward in anticipation. Flins tipped his head back, closing his eyes slowly in consideration.
And at last said evenly, “It’s alright.”
“Oh, come on!” Varka roared with laughter, slapping his knee. “No, no, no, come on, let me try again. Let me try again.”
“Oh come on,” Paimon groaned. “Just… Just lie and tell him it’s good so we can go home!”
“Paimon,” Flins said, appalled, “You would have me lie to the Grandmaster?”
“Well,” Paimon huffed, “yes!”
“No, that simply won’t do,” Flins said, shaking his head.
Columbina tipped her head back, staring at the dark ceiling overhead as Paimon noisily and viciously disagreed. She ran her finger along the rim of her cup, tracing the wood overhead with her unseeing eyes.
This wasn’t much unlike the tea parties that Sandrone had held, was it? All those parties… It was only far too late that she had realized why Sandrone had always insisted on having her try a new tea at each and every one, even if they were teas that Sandrone herself clearly despised.
She had been trying, Columbina now knew, to find one that Columbina liked.
It wasn’t much unlike Varka’s antics now, she thought, though she suspected it was much more of a game between the two men than something as serious as Varka desperately trying to find something Flins liked. The comparison made her heart ache a little anyways, especially as Flins said something quietly that made Varka hoot with victory and had Paimon sighing with relief.
If she brought Sandrone a new tea to try, would she forgive Columbina for leaving her? Sandrone had not been particularly happy to see Columbina the last time they’d met face to face, and the loss of that companionship nagged at her.
But if she brought Sandrone a tea, she could only imagine how terribly that would go. The idea of it made Columbina smile anyways.
She could imagine the way Sandrone would hold the cup out from herself in disgust, the way her nose would wrinkle and her eyes would narrow as she hissed vehemently, “What. Is. This?”
But she would try it anyway, just to see Columbina smile.
3:
“Columbina,” Paimon whispered, “Get down!”
Columbina crouched lower behind the shrubs, peeking out curiously from behind the thin, sparse leaves. At her side, Luonnotar watched curiously too, the little kuhenki’s paws clinging to her sleeve.
“Why are we hiding?” she wondered.
“Shh!” Paimon said, jostling Columbina with her elbow. “Be a good wingwoman, and stay quiet!”
Columbina was not entirely sure what a wingwoman was, but she stayed quiet anyway at Paimon’s behest. It felt nice to belong, nice to be included in something obviously so secret and special—though she wasn’t quite sure what they were doing. It seemed important anyway, with the way Paimon’s eyes were bugging out of her skull as she whispered encouragement the Traveler couldn’t hear under her breath.
In the clearing, beneath the moonlight, the Traveller was hurrying after Dainsleif. The two of them seemed to glow like gold in the night under her unseeing eyes, and Paimon shivered with anticipation.
“Come on, Traveler,” she murmured. “Just tell him!”
“Tell him what?” Columbina asked, but Paimon didn’t answer and Luonnotar merely shook her head.
“Dain!” the Traveler called. “Are you really just going to leave without saying goodbye?”
The man paused and turned. The Traveler stopped only a length away, holding themselves apart in a way Columbina couldn’t understand. They had never been shy with her, though they had been patient until she’d been comfortable enough to accept the closeness that seemed to come so easily to them and every friend they ever made. And yet it seemed to her that the Traveler and this man had known each other for some time, and were in some ways closer to each other than any other, so why…
Why did the Traveler keep themselves so far away now, with only their outstretched hand the bridge between the two?
“I can’t stay,” he said, and she watched in confusion as he tenderly took the Traveler’s hand in his. She knew the way he ran a thumb across the back of their gloved hand, the way he leaned in just a breath closer. It was perhaps one of the perks of being blind, that she could sense these things from so far away. At her side, Paimon was leaning forward, squinting. “I’m needed elsewhere. The Abyss-”
“But you didn’t say goodbye,” the Traveler stressed. “You didn’t say anything, not to me or anyone. You were just going to disappear. Without a word.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it mattered,” he said. She pressed a hand against her own beating heart, biting her lip. It was almost like.. “I thought…”
“Well,” the Traveler said almost sharply, looking aside, “it matters to me.”
Dainsleif swallowed, and Columbina felt as though suddenly they should not have been watching. Maybe Paimon thought the same, because she squeaked and covered her eyes.
From beneath golden lashes, the Traveler looked up at Dainsleif almost crossly. They had never looked at her like that, nor anyone else now that Columbina thought about it. There was something in those eyes, a message she couldn’t grasp. It eluded her, even as it lingered at the tip of her tongue. Had someone ever looked at her like that before? She couldn’t remember. Maybe at the time she hadn’t cared.
“Where’s my goodbye, Dain?” the Traveler demanded softly. They tucked a stray lock of hair behind their ear, and smiled faintly. “At least leave me something to remember you by until we meet again.”
“Traveler!” Paimon whispered, scandalized. She still kept her hands clapped over her eyes. Columbina would do the same, but it wouldn’t help any. “That wasn’t part of the plan!”
Dainsleif scoffed lightly, but pulled them close with a sudden tenderness. “It didn’t seem fair,” he said after a moment, pressing a gentle kiss to their knuckles. “And the longer I stay, the harder it is to leave.”
“Goodbyes are always hard,” the Traveler said. “But goodbyes aren’t forever. Our paths will inevitably cross, as they always do, and then we’ll see each other once more at the end of our next journey.”
Dainsleif closed his eyes, brow furrowing. The Traveler tipped their head to the side, smiling. “I’m right, aren’t I?” They tugged at their entangled fingers. “Come on, Dain. Don’t be shy.”
“Well,” he said, shaking his head, “that’s easier said than done when we have such an attentive audience.”
Paimon yelped, shooting out of the bushes. Columbina slowly sat up beside her, the wings on the back of her head wiggling unwillingly in embarrassment as she found them both staring at her.
“Paimon’s sorry!” Paimon squeaked. “Paimon only… Paimon uh… Paimon’s going to go! With Columbina! We’re leaving!”
She grabbed Columbina by the arm and yanked her to her feet, all but dragging her off the path. “Let’s go this way!” Paimon said shrilly. “We can check out the place ahead of us later!”
Columbina stumbled in her wake, but even with her back turned, she could still ‘see’ the way Dainsleif suddenly seized the Traveler’s jaw to press a quick, chaste kiss against their lips. The Traveler gasped and then Dainsleif was gone, disappearing into the night.
Columbina shook her head, pressing her hand against her heart. To disappear into the night without even a goodbye… All those looks, all those stares, all the things she hadn’t understood and hadn’t cared to understand…
Oh, Sandrone.
+1:
“What do you want, Columbina?” Sandrone asked, crossing her arms and glaring resolutely out the window.
Columbina lingered by the door, eyeing the harbinger’s stiff back. She was seated at her desk, overseeing her robots as they ran test after test down below. A cold, empty cup of tea sat by her side alongside an open book, and Columbina wondered if she had ruined this before she’d even had the chance to give it a try.
“I brought you something,” she said softly, stepping inside.
Sandrone turned, raising a brow. She eyed the box Columbina clasped gently in her arms with narrowed eyes and sighed with annoyance, spinning her chair all the way around.
“And what is that?” she asked with a sniff. “It had better not be some kind of rodent, Columbina. Whatever it is, it smells awful.”
“It’s tea,” Columbina said simply, handing her the box. “I thought we could try some together.”
“Tea?!” Sandrone squawked. “You brought me tea?”
“Yes,” Columbina said. “But… I don’t know how to brew it.”
“Oh, of course you don’t,” Sandrone said snidely, but jumped to her feet anyway. There was a glint of interest in her eyes as she rifled through the box. “Ugh, what are these flavors? They’re certainly… interesting. Oh, but this is–” She paused, lifting the packet. “Lumidouce,” she said uncertainly. “Where did you get this?”
“You like it, don’t you?” Columbina asked. She clasped her hands together. Maybe she’d been wrong… “You served it frequently back then,” she tried.
“Hmph. So you noticed,” Sandrone said, closing the box. She left the lumidouce tea out. “A miracle, really, all things considered.”
Columbina hummed in answer, watching as Sandrone set about brewing the tea. She wondered how many tea parties she’d missed while she was gone. How many invitations she would never now receive. The parties hadn’t always been comfortable for her. Often, conversation had steered into waters she couldn’t navigate, into things she didn’t have any interest in discussing. And yet they had been something of an olive branch all the same, a bridge between her and Sandrone’s world. There had been some semblance of belonging at that table, belonging she’d never felt before.
She hadn’t had to give anything to have a seat at that table. The invitation had been freely offered.
“This is high quality,” Sandrone remarked without looking at her. “How did you manage to pay for it? I don’t suppose you have any mora, especially now that you’re out of a job.”
Columbina hummed, tugging at a lock of her hair nervously. Would Sandrone be mad if she knew the Traveler had paid?
“Whatever, I guess it doesn’t matter,” Sandrone said when Columbina didn’t answer. “Forget I asked.”
The cups clinked as Sandrone set them out and poured. There were no machines at her side today, Columbina noted. How many had she lost in her fight against the Wild Hunt, on Columbina’s behalf?
“Sandrone,” she said suddenly, “I’m sorry.”
Sandrone set down the teapot with a huff. “Sorry?” she asked sharply. “What, exactly, are you apologizing for?”
Columbina bit her lip. She didn’t even know. For leaving so suddenly. For Sandrone’s loss. For their friendship. For what could have been more, if only she’d understood.
There was simply too much to be sorry for.
“Just drink your tea and shut up,” Sandrone said, shoving a cup into her hands. “Don’t make that face. I’m… I’m not mad, okay?! I mean, I am mad, but it’s over alright? You can’t change the past. What’s gotten into you anyway?!”
“I missed you,” she said, letting the warmth sink into her palms. She bowed her head, blowing on the drink as she’d seen Arlecchino do. “And I thought maybe you missed me too.”
“Me?” Sandrone said, affronted. “Miss you? Oh, please. I-I don’t miss you! In fact, I’m glad you’re gone! I can finally get some good sleep!”
Columbina smiled as she sipped her tea, watching as Sandrone stalked back and forth across the room. Eventually, she came to a halt right in front of Columbina. She crossed her arms and glared down at her.
“And what, exactly, are you smiling about Columbina?” she said. “Oh, you think this is funny, don’t you? Having a nice laugh?”
“This tea tastes terrible,” she said.
“Oh, please. You wouldn’t know good tea if it got up and looked you in the eye,” Sandrone said, appalled. “This is the best tea there is, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m glad you like it,” she said simply.
Sandrone shook her head mutely, and surprised Columbina by taking a seat right at her side on the low sofa. She clutched her own tea cup between her mechanical hands and frowned.
“Did you… really miss me?” she asked, looking away.
Columbina turned. She wished Sandrone would face her.
“Yes,” she whispered. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch Sandrone’s elbow.
Sandrone bowed her head. “You never said goodbye to me. You just left, as if none of us mattered. I know you didn’t like it there. It wasn’t good for you. They didn’t understand that they couldn’t change you, that there was nothing to fix or do. That you weren’t some… monster, waiting to be unleashed. But I thought that you’d at least say goodbye to Arlecchino. I thought that at least you’d say goodbye to me. I thought… we were friends, Columbina. I thought you felt the same way, and that was why you always kept so close. It isn’t like you ever told me to get lost after all.”
“You were my friend,” she whispered. “You were my friend, even if I didn’t know it. I have not had many friends, Sandrone. I have not known many people who wanted nothing more from me than my company. I didn’t know how this worked, how any of it worked.
“I didn’t know why you sent me so many invitations. Why you did all those things for me. Why you wanted to understand me and not my power, not my purpose. Why you wanted to know my favorite tea, my favorite food, my favorite color. You were a puzzle I could not understand, and only now that I have all the pieces do I finally begin to see what you were trying to tell me all along.”
She snaked her hands around Sandrone’s arm and leaned her cheek against her cool shoulder, breathing in, breathing out. The cloth beneath her cheek was soft, high quality. Sandrone smelled of lumidouce and clean rivers, of a place so far away. Did Sandrone miss home too? Columbina had never thought to ask.
“I’m sorry, Sandrone,” she murmured. “Can we try again?”
“Try again?” Sandrone asked. “Try again?” Columbina drew back as Sandrone turned, blue eyes bright, shining like glass. “I told you, Columbina, you can’t undo the past. What’s done is done. How can we ever just try again?”
Columbina drooped, wilting like a flower. Maybe she had been wrong. Columbina had thought after Sandrone had helped them that maybe the bridge between them had not been totally burnt. That maybe there had been some small pieces left for them to pick up once more, to shape and mold into something new.
This had been a mistake. Sandrone clearly did not want to see her.
“I don’t understand you. Why can’t we just pick things up where we left them?” Sandrone barked. “Why does everything have to be so complicated and stupid with you?!”
Something in her chest loosened. “Pick things up where we left them?” she whispered shakily, reaching for Sandrone’s hands.
“You better not start crying!” Sandrone snapped, wiping her own eyes. She glared down at Columbina through dark, wet lashes. Her lips were pulled into a small, pink pout. “I’ll have you kicked out!”
“Okay,” she said, entangling their fingers. Her heart was pounding. Somehow, losing Sandrone forever had seemed far more harrowing an idea than fading away ever had. “Does this mean I’m invited again?”
Sandrone sniffed. “Maybe. I’m still thinking about it.”
Columbina hummed softly, pulling Sandrone down into her arms. She wrapped herself around Sandrone, nuzzling her neck. Lauma had calmed Nefer down like that, hadn’t she? The last thing she’d wanted to do was make Sandrone cry. Perhaps this would help. This was what you did when you wanted someone you loved to feel better, wasn’t it?
Sandrone stiffened. “Columbina. What are you doing?”
Columbina hummed against her skin. It was surprisingly warm. She hadn’t known robots could be so warm.
“Making you feel better,” she whispered. Sandrone shivered. Was Columbina too cold?
Hesitantly, Sandrone returned her hug. “You are so weird.”
By the time Sandrone’s face was dry and their tea was gone, the sun had begun to dip below the horizon. Columbina felt its warmth slip away, and stood. Sandrone watched her drift towards the door, straightening her tea set.
“Are you leaving?” Sandrone demanded. She leapt to her feet. “Just like that?! Seriously, who do you think you are, just coming and going as you please?”
Ah. Columbina turned and found Sandrone watching her in that special way. Her heart panged as she realized all she’d been blind to, all those secret glances she hadn’t understood. Sandrone had considered her a special friend. A potential mate. A potential partner.
A lover, if only Columbina would have had her.
Columbina stepped closer suddenly, and Sandrone gave her a look.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she demanded. Columbina drifted closer, closer, closer. “Woah, woah, woah!”
Columbina paused, a breath away. She could see in her mind’s eye the way Sandrone flushed.
“Sandrone,” she asked softly, “do you want a kiss goodbye?”
Consent was important, Varka had drunkenly lectured once.
“Whaaaat?!” Sandrone yelped.
“A kiss goodbye,” she said. “Something to remember me by, until we meet again.”
“I thought you were coming over tomorrow!”
Columbina frowned. “So you do not want a kiss?”
“I-I didn’t say that!” Sandrone shouted. “I-I’ve never— Have you ever even kissed someone before?! You’re probably a terrible kisser! You’ll probably slobber all over me!”
“Well,” Columbina whispered, “I guess you’ll just have to teach me then.”
For a moment, Sandrone merely looked at her. Her blue eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed an artificial pink. She was as stunned as Columbina had ever seen her, and then they were both moving.
It was true. Columbina had never been kissed before, and as Sandrone’s warm lips crashed into hers, she mourned all the kisses she’d never had. The world in her peripheral seemed to fall away as her arms looped around Sandrone’s waist, as she tasted lumidouce and something sweet, something entirely Sandrone. It was the opposite of floating. It felt as though she were sinking, falling deeper and deeper into Sandrone’s arms as if she were an anchor to the earth, a tether to Teyvat.
She whined when Sandrone pulled back, as the kiss ended as quickly as it had begun.
“Sandrone,” she said in the space between them, “I finally found something I like the taste of.”
Sandrone flushed an even deeper red. “You are a freak,” Sandrone returned, spinning around and hastily fixing her hair. “Now get out of here! Maybe—Maybe if you come back tomorrow, I’ll give you another lesson and teach you a thing or two!”
Columbina touched her lips with the tips of her fingers and smiled.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, for our lesson.” She stepped back towards the door and felt as though she soared. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow—it was a throbbing in her blood, a beating of her heart. There would be a tomorrow, and there would be another kiss with Sandrone. It felt like a miraculous gift, especially because Columbina knew Sandrone. There would be no price for this love, nothing more than either of them would freely give. “Until we meet again, Sandrone.”