#but kaeya as amy sounds fine actually

[nomohmoss]

kaeya loves you

[dandelion-wings]

idk if you're familiar with b99 but after reading An Open Hand (amazing work btw!) I can't help but think that Jean giving birth to her kid exactly the same way Amy Santiago did where she kept working and ordering the policemen around even though she was obviously going into labor but refused to go to the hospital cause of the city-wide blackout happening. I'm just thinking of the Knights begging Jean to go to the cathedral and she's like "no it's fine my water broke only a moment ago and my contractions are still far apart" and continues working cause there's a random crisis in Mond

I haven't seen up to whenever that happens, but that sounds exactly right for Jean. XD I don't intend to write the actual pregnancy/childbirth because my pregnancy squick is in the stratosphere, but I am definitely assuming that's how it goes down from now on! She absolutely took out a Ruin Guard, finally had to sit down long enough for the actual birth, and then tried to stand up again, hand the baby to Kaeya, and rejoin the front line.

[canonical-transformation]

Sweet girl. Dead, though. (noir!Fischl)

Did you think I'd forgotten about noir Fischl? Of course you didn't, you forgot about her; it's not your brain she's living rent-free in.

Anyway today I found myself Googling (1) Dashiell Hammet quotes and (2) the opening to My Immortal, so, you're welcome I guess. Enjoy!

(SCENE: "Fi", private eye, is on the case, helping Bennett prove Razor's innocence.)

There were a few haunts where you might find a heavy drinker on a weekday evening. Cat's Tail, ritzy and perfume and fruit slices. They did fine enough mocktails, but it was all young couples and trendsetters, dancing their worries away in blissful ignorance. On the other hand, Angel's Share had been closed for a year now, since the old owner, Crepus Ragvindr, had passed away. His son had ordered the place closed before disappearing from town. Rumour had it the man was running from gambling debts, but my money was on him having one of those spiritual 'finding yourself' quarter-life crises like the main suspect in Who Killed Tamago Kenji?.

That left Little Red Biergarten as the favoured haunt for less fancy drinkers. Cosy place, courtyard with a nice view of the stars, constantly getting noise complaints from the neighbours.

It was mid evening so there were still plenty of families and couples just here for the food. The place's dinner service was good; I'd been there many a time with Amy and our folks, and their schnitzel and gravy was indescribable.

Gods, she'd been insatiable when it came to that gravy, Amy had. Always trying to escape extra bits from our folks' plates.

Amy was my stepsister. (Or was she? All would be revealed.) Sweet girl. Dead, though.

It was a work day so I didn't feel too bad showing up here in office clothes. I was in my charcoal pinstripe suit with matching slacks, my second-best silk purple shirt, and a lavender-grey striped tie. My derbies were already scuffed from when I'd polished them this weekend--the streets of Mondstadt are no less mean to a grizzled detective's shoes than they are to the dame herself--but they were still a sight nicer than most of the wrinkled boots I saw about the place.

I know what you're thinking: gee, this Fischl character's one suave guy. Hey Oz, ask me if I'm a suave guy.

...really, Fi?

Just do it.

Gee. Sounds like this Fischl character's one suave guy.

Wrong, Oz. I'm no gent; I'm a dame, and I clean up nicely at that. My name's Fischl von Luftschloss Nafidort with hair the colour of pale ale (which I can't drink yet) with tar black clip-on extensions that reaches my mid-back. A lot of schmucks tell me I look like Amy (the dead stepsister I mentioned before, pay attention will ya) and yeah sure I fit her clothes but I'll save the cocktail dresses for when I need to infiltrate a high society soiree. I'm a private investigator but my teeth ain't crooked yet. I've got eyes the colour of apples and unlike my namesake I don't cover it up with no eye patch. And yeah I own a tie collection with every combination of lavender, lilac, and slate grey stripes you can think of but this is city living, who doesn't?

Fi. You got five feet into the Biergarten and stopped moving.

...you try monologuing and walking at the same time, Oz.

My informant in the Knights was called Kaeya. Easy man to find in the evening, if you knew where to find a heavy drinker, which as I mentioned before, I do. He was fleecing a fellow Knight at cards, and I waited til the game had wrapped and the other guy was leaving before I made my way to his table.

"Evening, Kaeya." I drew myself a chair and motioned to his winnings. "Is that a stack of Mora, or are you just--"

He cut me off. "No. No, we're not--" He lowered his voice. "Fischl, level with me: do you actually know what that saying means?"

"Does a dead cat bounce?" I quipped wittily.

"Don't dodge the question."

He looked serious, so I figured I'd throw him a bone. I gave him the simple yes-or-no answer he was clearly angling for. He asked me how many books I'd read where people say things like that without knowing what they mean; I explained to him that a hard boiled investigator doesn't have much time for leisure reading, but Amy used to read a lot of detective novels and she had mentioned the answer was 'none'. He told me that as a condition of being my informant, I was never to use those kinds of lines on him. I acquiesced and asked if I could have a sip of his ale; he said no.

"So, how can I help you?" said Kaeya, leaning back into his seat.

"It's about one of your perps," I said. "Razor. As in razor's edge, where we're all dancing."