#daybreakrising: vautrin

[immobiliter]

@daybreakrising sent: It took a little bribing of the landlord (including a casual drop of Neuvillette's name, which he is only a little ashamed about doing) to allow him entry into Furina's apartment whilst she was out - dragged, he knew, by the intimidating Clorinde and the not-quite-as-intimidating Navia. Sneaking in like this felt wrong, almost, but he cannot very well arrange a surprise party with her there, and so, here he was, standing in her living space with a basket of goods in one hand and a cake box in the other.

He's familiar with this place by now, so it doesn't take him long to set things up. He lays out a new tablecloth upon her rather modest dining table (blue, like her favourite outfit, exquisitely embroidered with the common sea creatures of Fontaine's oceans - a little whimsical, perhaps, but he knows she'll enjoy it) and begins laying out the various items he has procured on his way here.

There are little cakes and pastries, chocolates and sweets. He has a special little display of those particular pastries that look like swans - the first one she ever gave him. There are savoury foods too, of course, to balance out the sweet: breads, fruits, cheeses, meats. He has arranged a small feast upon the now rather crowded table. But there is one spot left: centre stage, of course. It is here that he places a rather ornate cake stand, borrowed from the Palais (specifically, from Neuvillette).

His attention turns now to the box he brought with him. It bears no brand or label from any of the bakeries within Fontaine, for one very simple reason: he has, of course, baked it himself. A recipe he can recall with absolute clarity, as it was once his sister's favourite - the cake she asked for every year without fail. It probably doesn't match the standards of the ones his parents used to buy from the high-end bakeries of the past, but it looks right and he's ninety-percent sure it tastes right, too. He lifts it carefully from its box and arranges it upon the stand, taking a moment to turn it this way and that before finding its best angle.

Knowing he probably only has another ten minutes or so before Clorinde and Navia return Furina to her home, and only about five minutes before her other close friends arrive (a small gathering, he promised himself, knowing she would likely favour that), he moves to the phonograph, selects a piece of music that he knows is one of her favourites, and sets it playing in the background.

And then he turns to the last item he has brought with him: a tall glass dome set into a marble base, within which a single Romaritime flower grows in a bed of soil, fully in bloom as the dome itself is filled with water. He carries it with great care to the coffee table, and props an envelope against its side upon which bears the name: Furina. The card inside is simple, though made with fine materials, the writing painstakingly neat and elegant (it took him many attempts to get it perfect), and it reads:

Furina, I have never been good with words, though words are not truly necessary with us, I feel. But I shall try nonetheless. You have become someone so very dear to me, and you have filled a gap in my soul I thought would never close. You have become my best friend, my confidante, and you have also become akin to a sister to me. This flower was once the favourite of my sister, Illaria. She was always so very sad that she could not keep one on her windowsill to look at day and night, and I told her that one day, I would find a way to capture their bloom for her. I think she would be so very happy that I fulfilled my promise, even if it was not to her. Thank you for everything, and happy birthday. Vautrin

       It was an odd thing, to wake up on her birthday and not have a specific, regimented routine to follow. Tradition had dictated how such a celebrated public holiday should go for centuries, always planned weeks in advance, and afforded only minor tweaks over the years as society had shifted and changed with the times. Today, there was none of that. She was no longer Fontaine's archon. She was, instead, a human, left to celebrate the day of her birth ( birth, or creation in her case? she did not know if the day she had designated her birthday was the same as Focalors', or even when hers was. the knowledge did not exist in her memories ) as every other human in Teyvat did.

       If anyone were to ask her how she wished to spend it, Furina would confess that she had no idea where to start. Thankfully, Navia and Clorinde had come to her rescue that very morning and whisked her away to the shopping district in the Court, where the two of them had revealed their joint gift: a custom tailored piece of clothing of her choice from Chioriya Boutique.

       After the fitting, they had returned her to her apartment — just enough time, she would soon realise, for the main event to be prepared in her absence. Upon re-entering her living space, she was greeted by a chorus of cheering and singing, and the next hours were spent laughing and talking and enjoying the company of the few individuals that, in recent months, she had come to call friends.

       Small. Intimate. Special. All of the things her birthday had never been, not in five hundred years. Furina noticed the way that her favourite music appeared to always be playing on her phonograph in the corner, quiet enough to not disturb the group conversation, but still catching her attention whenever she caught those familiar, favoured bars or chords. She noticed the blue tablecloth decorated with cute little critters, and she particularly noticed the stand in the centre of her table that housed the birthday cake. If she wasn't mistaken, that was an exact replica of — or indeed the exact same — cake stand that Neuvillette always kept in his office for when he was entertaining guests.

       All of this helped put together a picture of who had been the driving force behind her surprise party. He did not publicly acknowledge the fact to the group, or insist on taking credit — Furina knew that Vautrin was content to not have the spotlight on him, even if he deserved the praise. But while she wasn't quite able to quiz him on his involvement in the company of her other guests, as the last to leave when the sun began to set in the sky, she finally spied her chance to express her heartfelt gratitude.

       Before he could protest, her arms were around his neck, pulling him into a hug. “ Thank you for the surprise. ” As Furina drew back, she fixed Vautrin with a knowing look. “ The cake was yours, wasn't it? And the music, nobody else knows what my favourite compositions are. I don't know how you managed to get into my apartment to arrange all this when I didn't leave a spare key behind, but thank you. ”

       It was only much later, as darkness fell and all her guests had departed, when she discovered the Romaritime flower and note left on her coffee table, that her sense of gratitude increased tenfold. Unshed tears stung at the edges of her vision as she sat on her sofa and opened the envelope and, as her gaze took in the bluey-purple glow of the flower on the table, she knew that such a personal gift was about to become one of her most cherished possessions.

       The flower would remain centre stage in this new home of hers, never to be moved or replaced — as treasured in her heart as the man who had gifted it to her.

[immobiliter]

       Had she made a mistake? Was this when he would turn from her and walk away, wanting nothing to do with a woman who had sacrilegiously lied to her own people regarding her own divinity for five centuries? In her anxiety over how Vautrin might react to the revelation, Furina knew that her mind was jumping to irrational conclusion after irrational conclusion, but she couldn't seem to stop it. Her gloved hands gripped each other tightly in her lap. Breathe in. Breathe out. And then finally he spoke, and reached out to place his hand on her arm.

       There was no anger, no confusion, no sense of rejection in his voice. He hadn't asked for her to elaborate, hadn't tried to piece together the remainder of the story, hadn't bombarded her with questions about where the divine power of the Hydro Archon was, if it had never resided with her to begin with. Instead, Vautrin just looked sad ( the same sort of sadness that she'd seen reflected in Neuvillette's gaze whenever she'd noticed him looking at her for too long ), his words cutting through to the pain and torment she'd had to suffer through without her even having to put it into words.

       You truly are amazing, Miss Furina. His words were hard to accept, and a strangled noise escaped her throat — half a scoff, half a sob. “ I don’t know about that. ” Tears began to stream down her face. Despite her valiant attempts to the contrary, the dam had burst, and there was no holding back the centuries old wound that continued to bleed. “ To Fontaine I am the archon who didn’t act until the very last second to save her people. You must have heard what happened in Poisson… I couldn’t help them, I couldn’t do anything… ”

       She knew in her heart that there was nothing she could have done against the Primordial Sea, but there must have been something pre-emptive she could have done to save more lives in Poisson. She could have had the entire village evacuated after Neuvillette had become aware of the breach deep within the Meropide, she could have had better emergency plans drawn up to deal with these sorts of incidents. Instead, she had been paralysed by her own fear of the prophecy coming to pass, her sanity long since slipping away at the edges, desperate for her mirror-reflection self to intervene and prove that all of this suffering hadn't been for naught.

       Furina reached up to wipe her eyes, her voice shaking. “ I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to put on someone who barely even knows me. ” For some reason it was easy to forget that she had never known him personally as a Captain working under the Chief Justice. Vautrin did not feel like a stranger to her — perhaps because he was the ghost who had haunted the Palais Mermonia for years after being sent to the Meropide.

       Her gaze strayed to the dark, empty street around them. Devoid of life, save for the two lost souls who had stumbled upon each other at this dark, lonely hour of the night. “ Neuvillette is the only one who knows the full truth... and he's done so much for me already. ” Too much, she would argue, completely dependent on him as she was for the apartment and all of the expenses involved in living there day to day. “ But although the flood waters receded without taking any more lives, there are days when I still feel like I'm drowning in them. ”

Perhaps it is because he himself has never been one to talk too openly, but Vautrin has always been rather adept at listening. He understands that some people require patience, that they need time to gather themselves before they can even consider opening up about their problems. So he sits, and he waits, quietly and calmly, while the woman seated beside him wrestles with her thoughts.

In truth, part of him doesn't expect her to speak again - or, at least, not on the subject that troubles her. He has offered his willing ear, but she is not obliged to take it. He is, after all, no more than a face from a distant past. But if she does decide to trust in him, he will listen.

His patience is rewarded when, at last, she does speak. He understands immediately - he knows a thing or two about secrets, about matters that are difficult to talk about. There are few he can tell the truth about his identity, after all, even if he knew what to tell them. As far as any general public is aware, he is simply a former resident of the Meropide. No one these days would remember Vautrin - no one but those who had been there.

He doesn't interrupt - he lets her say her piece until there is a natural opening for a response, should she wish one. Her revelation about the trial summons painful memories, of course. He knows what that feels like, to be on the wrong side of that judgement. His heart aches for them both - for Furina, shouldering the weight of her secret, facing a charge that weighed even heavier; and for Neuvillette, having to pass judgement on yet another familiar face.

The reveal is not quite what he expected, though it is also not completely a surprise. Human. Yes, he can understand why that must have been a dire secret to keep. And, whilst the situations cannot possibly be compared, he knows what it's like to have to pretend to be something you're not. Only I was in denial, and my secret wouldn't endanger the entirety of Fontaine.

He can feel her gaze upon him as he processes the information, and he can sense the nerves that roll off her in waves. This reading emotion thing is still something he's getting used to, but it's helpful, too. "That... that must have been such a burden to bear alone." This time, it is he who reaches out to her - his hand rests gently atop her arm in a gesture he hopes conveys comfort.

"Such a major part to play, with no one to support you. The most important role in your life, and at the end of it, no one to acknowledge the strength and effort it took to master." No one but Neuvillette, he muses, and... now me. He offers her a sad, gentle smile. "You truly are amazing, Miss Furina. I do not think anyone else could still stand after that." His hand lightly squeezes where it rests on her arm. "I am sorry you had to suffer alone."

[ccaptain]

@daybreakrising liked for a starter! TWICE

   Mondstadt is the city of freedom, and will always be.

   it's also home to a lot of small festivities, some decorations and boots that will be taken off by the end of the day- but, until then, people are free to enjoy drinks, snacks and peculiar little games. 

   since his friend has approached the city just as a little celebration was happening, Kaeya did the only sensible thing a good friend would have done: Vautrin's hand was swiftly grabbed and the poor lad was happily lead to the main square.

   it didn't mattered if it was almost dawn, and people were getting ready to dismantle their boots and head home with their gains for the day- what mattered was the music playing from a gramophone somebody was hosting from a window, and the couples gathering to do a small dance- most of them fueled by alcohol, some of them by the pure and simple chance to have fun.

   their partners, the duo of both Wriothesley's, are currently unavailable to do a few spins- still...

   this is where a little lightbulb pops on Kaeya's head.

   ' Vautrin! ' he turns, eye pratically sparkling, his hand stretched out towards him. ' let's dance! '

   what a direct proposal! he didn't even hesitated!

   ' ah, um, ' he stutters, his smile hidden behind his palm. ' what i meant to say is... would you allow me this dance, monsieur Vautrin? ' he completes it with a bow that's all mischievous mockery, playfully insolent and affectionate towards him.

   you can say many things about Kaeya, but not that he isn't a menace... an adorable, daring menace who sweeps everyone off their feet just like this.

   ' please? '

[wwriothesley]

@daybreakrising: “Things can be replaced and homes rebuilt, people can’t.” (vautrin after wrio puts himself at risk again-) ( meme source. )

      he's listening, of course he is; even when all he can make out is a glowing outline of Vautrin, Wriothesley is listening to something that makes sense. in fact- 

      in fact, he was a bit too reckless this time. as his boyfriend stitching back a gash on his leg isn't proof of this, his skin still tingles with the phantom feeling of dryed blood despite having been cleaned. there's no need to defend himself- if he didn't happened to pass by and hear the frightened melusines calling him for help, things would have ended badly for the poor group, and a first aid was administered as a treasure hunter's knife got a bit too friendly with him.

      thank god these crooks didn't had any idea of where to strike- Wriothesley's sudden appearence sent the bullies into a panic, adrenaline-filled frenzy doing nothing against precise hits. if they were experts with a much cooler head, the knife would have sliced the femoral artery and left him to bleed out in the grass.

      “ i can't promise it won't happen again, ” he keeps it real, doesn't sugarcoat or tells lies and promises that both would know to be empty. “ however- i can be more careful... and stronger. if i dispatch the threat, it can't threaten me- right? ”

[ccaptain]

@daybreakrising: [ DRINK ] also vautrin would like one pls ( meme source. )

   ' if you faint from too much alcohol, i'll be carrying you home, 'it's the sympathetic thing that is told to the poor man, before Kaeya gets to work with a few musical hums.

   inside a glass, after frosting it over with a bit of Cryo mist, a base of blueberry juice is dripped and rolled around to cover the frozen areas of it. to secure it in place, a little huff of addictional frost must be added- and et voilà, all sealed! it'll melt once hit with the generous dose of a light, delicious wine that master Diluc just added to the list- the alcohol should start melting the ice soon. but before it can, swift finger add a cute crown of addictional blueberries, sliced halfway to allow him to do this, leaving just some space for Vautrin's mouth to sip from the glass.

   as a funny touch, a little, thin sword of ice is dipped in the drink as a decoration.

   Kaeya was never this smug until now.

[immobiliter]

       While the thought of all that had been lacking in her life over the past centuries brought with it a sense of profound sadness, it was easy to put aside in favour of her curiosity at finding out why Vautrin had brought the topic up in the first place. Love — in the way that most humans understood it — might have been unfamiliar and alien to her, but it had always been a source of fascination all the same, something that she had ( until now, she supposed ) only been permitted to marvel at from afar.

       So Furina continued to sit and listen quietly as Vautrin entered into his story, having barely touched her own wine on the table. It was always a little jarring to hear him speak so clearly of a past that was now so distant to her, sometimes so difficult to recall and grasp, like grains of sand falling through her fingers, or a phonograph playing muffled sound from another room. But she remembered how rigid certain things were. The Fontaine she had inherited from Egeria post-Cataclysm was a vastly different place to the nation she lived in now.

       Slowly, the pieces came together, and when they all finally clicked into place, providing her with a name — a name surprising yet one Furina ought to have expected, a name that made perfect sense... the delight that rapidly filled her heart made it light and yet fit to burst at the same time. She beamed at him.

       Her dear Iudex, as lonely and isolated from the rest of humanity as she had been for all those years. The dragon sovereign she had summoned to her Court for reasons unknown to her at the time and taught to live among the humans he so tragically resembled. How many times had he balked at her pushing to go out among her people and connect with them? It seemed her attempts had not been in vain as she might have feared: saving all Fontainians from their sin aside, unbeknownst to her Neuvillette had also been the keeper to a human heart all this time.

       She could still sense her friend's discomfort and, in an attempt to alleviate it and coax his gaze, Furina reached across the table to take both of his hands in hers. “ Vautrin... the love you feel for this man was never wrong. ” She gently squeezed; matters of propriety regarding one's superior aside, she sensed that this was still something he needed to understand and accept about his life then. “ He was fortunate to have you then, and is even more fortunate to have you back in his life now. ”

       To think that if Vautrin had lived out his sentence in the Meropide as intended, he would have taken such a secret to the grave. Four hundred years late was not too late, now was it? Surely not to a dragon, nor to a human trapped in the Primordial Sea for the past four centuries... or a masquerading deity who had tried to amputate everything human about her long ago. Furina tilted her head at him sympathetically. “ And, knowing him as I do... he's completely oblivious to all of this, isn't he? ”

His ears burned hot the moment the words left his lips, but he cannot retract them now - and neither, really, does he want to. He is comfortable enough to allow this side of himself to shine through: the human, vulnerable edge he often kept hidden even when he was but a human. But despite his desire to open himself up, to trust her with his biggest secret, he still cannot shake the embarrassment of the subject, particularly as she is oh so familiar with the object of his heart's desire - though she does not know it. Yet.

Have you? she asks, and he feels the heat now creeping into his face. He takes a sip of wine, pretends not to notice the way his hand trembles ever so slightly as it lifts the glass to his lips. He has not spoken this out loud before. He never dreamed there would be a day where he could. And yet... here he is, preparing to do just that.

"I... have." He refuses to look at her - cannot, lest he quickly regret his decision and veer off into another topic. "Though it took me some time to realise it... and even longer to admit it."

"I was in denial for a very long time." He sighs, a sad sound that carries a thread of longing within it. "Things may be different now, but I am sure you remember how things were back then - society had certain rules, things that were considered... unacceptable. And there were standards, an image, that I had to live up to. So I convinced myself that what I felt was... simply the care of a close friend. I believed it, too, until..." Until the day I had to say goodbye, for what I thought would be forever.

He pauses, drinks more wine, and still he does not look at her. "The person I fell in love with... who I am still in love with even now... was the wrong person, back then." His voice quivers - he is nervous, beyond anything he has ever felt before. "A man." And here, now, is the reason for his nerves: "And, at that time, my superior."

There can be no question now to whom he refers. He was the captain of his division - the only superior he answered to was, of course, Neuvillette.

[ccaptain]

@daybreakrising: ♡ also, for funsies, vautrin- ( meme source. )

●●●○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●●● | AFFECTION ●○○○○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●●● | TRUST

LOW | ●●●●● | HIGH

[ccaptain]

post a playlist of 5 songs for your muse. ( picking H:SR Kaeya specifically )

i. burn brighter. - lansdowns

ii. when legends rise. - godsmack

iii. country song. - seether

iv. battle! sada & turo (pokèmon scarlet/violet) - vetrom

v. glitter & gold. - barns courtney

tagged by: i stole it... teehee tagging: @predvestnik (chelb or kaveh) @dupliciti @daybreakrising (vautrin), @resolutepath (welt or if u have a muse ur feeling in particulary pick that one) @snowtombedstar

[ccaptain]

what ghost haunts you?

the ghost of the damned.

you rot with the need for something more than what you have. the ghost is built up of the feeling of stagnation. you find it staring at the ceiling with sleep - blurred vision ; this is the third night you have met its eyes in the early hours of the morning. you tear yourself apart looking for comfort, for validation, for acceptance. but it never feels quite enough. you ruin everything you touch, despite every attempt to be more than what you have always been. you would sculpt yourself as something perfect for those around you, but you are no artist. when albert camus wrote, “be silent, heart; there is no hope!” when lucille clifton wrote, “maybe i should’ve wanted less. maybe i should’ve ignored the bowl in me, begging to be filled.” when taylor swift said, “i’m still on that tightrope, i’m still trying everything to get you looking at me.”

tagged by: @duelmarks KISS ♥ tagging: @predvestnik, @daybreakrising ( gimme the usual wrio & vautrin and if u feel like it gallagher too ♥ ), @resolutepath ( DILUC ), & everyone else who wants to have a go

[immobiliter]

       Navia knew little about this man other than that he was a friend of Monsieur Neuvillette's — which, in itself, was enough to attract her curiosity. Fontaine's Iudex seemed such a solitary man, content with his laws and his work and the companionship of the many melusines who found employment within the Palais Memonia, that the thought of him having a human friend seemed... absurd. So absurd, perhaps, that she would have insisted she meet him even if he hadn't arrived at Poisson offering to help with the rebuild following the flood.

       Like the others who had arrived here offering their assistance, both in an official and unofficial capacity, she had set him to work, and the scale of the operation had prevented her from catching him alone to truly ask what being the friend of the Chief Justice was like. But, in those quieter moments like the one just now, she'd had the chance to observe him — and an aura of melancholy seemed to permeate into his very being.

       Curious or not, she knew better than to pry. But, as she approached the edge of the dock and sat down beside him, legs dangling over the water below, his words told her a story all their own.

       She paused at his question, her blue eyes still watching him, shoulders hunched, gaze cast downward — a shell of a man, if she did say so herself. “ I remind myself that I'm not a ghost. Perhaps I should be, after everything that has happened, but that just makes it all the more remarkable that I'm still here. ” Her mother, her father, Melus, Silver... they were losses that would always weigh heavily on her. Losses she would carry with her for the rest of her life. “ Those I've lost... they wouldn't want me to join them. In fact, they did everything in their power to ensure that I'm still standing here. ” Another pause, her expression wavering a little. Her hands gripped each other in her lap. “ I owe it to them to keep going, don't you think? No matter how hard it is, no matter how sad I am or how much I miss them. I have to keep moving forward, for all the people who still rely on me. ”

@immobiliter: ❝ there are ghosts everywhere. we carry them with us wherever we go. ❞ ( navia for vautrin! )

He sits upon the edge of the platform, his gaze fixed upon the water waiting below his dangling legs and the distorted reflection it provides. Poisson offers a kind of unique peace - there is noise and bustle, yes, but it is... homely, almost. A far cry from the cacophony of the city, at least. He is starting to understand why Neuvillette suggested he make contact with the president of the Spina di Rosula. It was not only to provide him with a means of work, but perhaps, also, to offer him some reprieve from the confines of the Court.

The rippling image below transfixes him, as does the itch beneath his skin that calls, yearns, for the water. An itch he is still adjusting to; an itch he suspects he will carry with him for... well, however long he is expected to live in this new... form. The noise around him melts away into the background until all he can hear is the soft lapping of waves.

...and then, rather abruptly, a voice at his side.

He lifts his head, slides his primordial gaze away from the water below and instead looks upon the face that so readily welcomed him in. She is of increasing interest to him - she carries a weight in her heart that he recognises all too well, yet it doesn't seem to diminish the light that exudes from her in seemingly effortless waves.

"Some of us carry more than others." His eyes linger upon her, momentarily distracted by the faint shimmer he can see upon her skin. Neuvillette said little regarding her experiences during the unfolding of the prophecy, but he knows what that shimmer means. He sees it whenever he dares to look in a mirror. The Primordial Sea.

Aware that he is staring, he averts his gaze, returning his focus to the surface of the water once more. "And what can you do when the weight becomes too much to bear? When it threatens to drag you to the depths?"

She has caught him in one of his bouts of melancholy, it seems - a frequently recurring affair since his return to the living world. He was never a... cheerful person by any means, but this is something else entirely. Yet another side effect of his time in the Sea, it appears. "How do you bear it, Demoiselle? How can you remain so... vibrant?"

[ccaptain]

which imaginary illness do you have?

Melancholic Pneumonia.

You carry the past with you, it clutters up your lungs. The golden sand of beloved memories, the rainbow of missed opportunities you still agonize over, the dust of a life spend doing mostly banal things. They escape you with every breath, your cough stained with impossible colors. In a way the dust reflects your constant forgetting of the past - the hundreds of things you let go of every day to make room for hundreds more. You are choking on your own past, the architect of your own demise, each breath sour and harsh. Letting go of the past now won't do you any good - it's far to late already, your melancholy is already flooding your lungs. Enjoy a few last breaths of the present. The past is catching up quick.

tagged by: i stole c: heoehoehehoe tagging: my pookies @predvestnik @resolutepath (diluc!), @daybreakrising (either wrio or vautrin or both or you can pick the muse) + everyone else. steal from me

[immobiliter]

       It was odd, the inexplicable sense of disappointment at hearing it confirmed that Neuvillette had divulged little to Vautrin other than to say that she had retired and abdicated her duties as Archon. Perhaps it was because it would have been easier if he already knew everything — just as it was when Neuvillette had found her after the flood and told her of his experience with Focalors inside of the Oratrice, already aware of everything that she had fought to bury and hide away from everyone for so long.

       But, ultimately, Neuvillette's discretion was what she wanted. The people of Fontaine could not know the exact truth of what had transpired on the fateful day of the flood: Furina did not want to be lauded a hero for her sacrifice, not when what she needed was to rest and finally put her endless performance behind her for good — and besides, she did not know whether Fontaine would take well to the revelations that the truth would leave in its wake. To shatter an entire nation's centuries' old belief about their Archon... and that was to not even consider the wrath of Celestia that Focalors' actions could one day awaken ( perhaps more swiftly if its knowledge was made widespread ). No, it was better that her people were kept in the dark, for their own sakes as well as for that of the Hydro Sovereign now returned to his full power.

       Still, she wanted Vautrin to know. Furina couldn't quite put her finger on what it was about the former Captain of the Special Security and Surveillance Patrol and friend of her dear Iudex: whether it was the way they were both lost, as he had already said, or the fact that she knew Neuvillette trusted him over most humans he had come to know in his four hundred years spent among them. Though Furina had not known Vautrin personally at the time, it had warmed her heart to see Neuvillette finally opening up to someone that was not her or his beloved Melusines. Someone human, and allowed to be so. The circumstances of his trial were unfortunate, as was the Iudex's profound grief that had followed his subsequent exile but, by fate or not, the Primordial Sea had sent him back to Neuvillette all these centuries later... and perhaps to her, as well.

       She also suspected that a shattering of the man's faith was not something she needed to be wary of. Enough had already been upended for Vautrin over recent weeks.

       But the act of telling him — despite the urge to do so, despite her small nod as he awkwardly patted her gloved hand with his own, inviting her to share in the burden still eating away at her — that would be the challenge of a lifetime.

       Drawing a long, shaky breath, Furina withdrew her hand from his arm, letting it fall in her lap. Some time passed in silence between them before she turned her head to meet his gaze, almost apologetic. “ It's... hard to talk about. I've had to keep a terrible secret from everyone for the past five hundred years. Had anyone found out, I would have doomed all of Fontaine to the worst fate imaginable. ” She recalled being in Lyney's magic box with the Traveler and Paimon: how close she had been to confiding in her secret, and how awful she had felt that she had nearly given in. “ The danger has passed now, but the truth is still... locked up inside of me, I guess. ”

       The danger had passed. She needed to remember that. Furina took another deep breath, and tried again.

       “ Before the flood, I was put on trial in my own opera house, by my own Iudex. ” She looked at Vautrin with a small, sad smile, knowing that he would understand better than anyone what that was like. “ I was ultimately judged to have misrepresented myself as Fontaine’s Archon, before the official line from the Palais after the trial became that I gave up my divine power in order to thwart the prophecy. But... I never had any divine power of my own to begin with. ” Furina's gaze remained fixed on her companion, a little nervous despite the faith she'd put in him. The deception she was about to reveal was a lot for anyone to process, she was sure. “ I’m human, Vautrin. I’ve always been human. I had to... pretend to be Fontaine's Archon... all this time. ”

Furina had ever been a figure of awe to his eyes. As a child, he had watched her perform upon the same stage as his parents, heard her name uttered with a kind of reverence within his home. How many times had his mother voiced her desire to one day see him sharing a stage with the extraordinary Furina? It had been a lofty goal, one both his parents had pushed him endlessly to achieve.

In a way, he did achieve that goal - though certainly not in the way his parents could ever have imagined. The stage he shared with their archon was not that of the theatre, but one of justice, instead. He had stood in the box to deliver prosecution, had sat in the audience to watch criminals caught by his hands - or by the hands of his colleagues - receive their sentences. And all the while, Furina sat upon high, watching everything from her throne.

This is the closest he has ever been to Fontaine's biggest celebrity. Up close, she is no different to any other - yet he still feels a sense of awe within her presence. It is not her talent upon the stage, nor her (former) role presiding over Fontaine that sparks this awe, but... her strength. He knows only the little that Neuvillette has told him of the events that happened prior to his return - events that initiated his return - but emotion is something that cannot be hidden from him, not now. He felt great pain within the dragon's heart as he spoke of Furina's sacrifice, even if he did not elaborate on what that sacrifice was.

Thus, he surmised that the archon had suffered. That she can remain such a seemingly bright personality even now speaks volumes of her inner strength, and what is more deserving of awe than that?

The hand upon his arm surprises him. He is unused to being touched - truth be told, he is still readjusting to having a physical form, but even prior to his 400-year long swim, such physical contact was a rare occurrence. But, surprising as it is, he does not pull away, nor does he tense beneath her touch like he might have done under a total stranger's.

"Monsieur Neuvillette has only told me what is necessary, I believe." And he has not asked for further detail, either. "I know that it was only recently that you... retired."

He suspects there is more to it than a simple retirement, of course. He has heard the line delivered to the people of Fontaine regarding the prophecy that their Archon thwarted, but he was not once the youngest captain of the special security and surveillance patrol for nothing, and the best lies often contain enough grains of truth. Were her godly powers given up, or were they taken? And does it have something to do with how Neuvillette now exudes power in a way he never used to?

"It is not surprising that you are finding things... difficult." He nods, understanding. "If it is not too bold of me to say, I think you and I are somewhat alike in this respect, Miss Furina. When you have experienced life in a certain way for so many years, then it isn't going to be a quick and easy adjustment. You can hardly be blamed for feeling a little lost."

He lifts a hand and - somewhat awkwardly, as if he's unsure of the gesture he's about to make - gently pats the hand still upon his arm. "I know we have not been too well acquainted, Miss Furina, but I have heard that sometimes it is easier to talk to someone unfamiliar to you. There is less concern for judgement, I think, than if you were to consult with someone who knows you well. If that is something you think might help... I am more than willing to be a listening ear."

[immobiliter]

       Something she was learning — slowly, and with a great deal of trepidation and hesitance — was the value of companionship. Whether it was the visits to her apartment from Clorinde and Navia, where they talked over tea and cake or went for a walk around the Court, or simply the presence of her beloved Salon Solitaire by her side, there was a certain solace to be found in the company of others. Not only did it distract her thoughts when they most needed distracting, but there was a purpose to be found in that connection — a purpose that Furina had been searching for ever since her retirement, and would likely continue seeking for the rest of her mortal life. For so long she had sat on high and judged others, and now she could finally live among them, and share in their hopes and their wishes and their fears.

       So when her late night walk had led her to sharing a bench with Vautrin — a ghost of the past if ever there was one — she did not object as he sat beside her and talked.

       Furina recalled the first time she had stumbled into his path after his reappearance, someone who would not have drawn the eye of any ordinary Fontainian, but stirred something deep and familiar within her own memory. She had presided over many, many trials during her centuries of service and could not hope to remember them all, but Vautrin's had stood out not just for the retributive justice behind his crime, but for the effect it had on Fontaine's Iudex. Impartial though he may have been in the courtroom, Furina had sensed his regret and sadness and grief in the months and years afterwards — even if he scarcely chose to speak of it out loud. Few things had ever moved the Chief Justice so much as the trial where he had been forced to condemn a personal friend to the Fortress of Meropide.

       And so she had recognised Vautrin at once. Given all she knew now of his situation, his brush with the Primordial Sea and the way he had eventually come to know a human form once more, it really came as no surprise that he should be wandering these streets as a lost soul, much like her. But when he spoke of experiencing hundreds of years worth of memories, feeling emotions that were not his own, it tugged at something deep within her chest. A different sort of suffering, and yet as profound as her own.

       She had suffocated over years of playing a part, of watching ordinary humans grow and live and die while she stood still, cursed to forever remain the actress until the play had concluded. Each generation had come to her with their dreams and fears and joys and she had carried them all, helplessly hurtling towards a tragedy that she was not certain her performance could avoid. In the face of Vautrin's torments, she wanted to offer words of comfort, to apologise even ( when will she learn that all of Fontaine was no longer her burden to bear alone? ), but she said nothing. Instead, she carefully reached out with a hand on his arm, the true extent of the understanding in her gaze something he would likely never know.

       “ No, no, it's alright. ” Her smile was sad, and her voice hesitant. “ I'm not sure how much Neuvillette has told you... ” Though in truth, she knew the Iudex would have likely deemed it not his place to confide in her secrets, even if he had confided in his own. Even if, maybe, more than anyone, she wanted Vautrin to know. She wanted him to know that she hadn't given up her celestial powers in order to stop the prophecy, or whatever the official line on her trial and the resulting flood was. She wanted him to know that she was just like him, that she had always been just like him, masquerading her true self for centuries. But did she have the courage to tell him so? She cleared her throat. “ But you know that I am no longer Fontaine's Archon, and adjusting to... retirement is harder than I could have imagined. ”

       Come on, Furina. You can do this. Just tell him.

@immobiliter: ❝ i am no stranger to nightmares. ❞ ( furina for vautrin! )

Company was the last thing he expected at this hour, particularly in this part of the city. It wasn't uncommon for him to take late night (or early morning) strolls when sleep eluded him for one reason or another, but this would be the first time he wouldn't be alone out here. At first, he hadn't wanted to disturb Furina once he realised who it was that sat on this lonely bench in the dark, but she had warmly welcomed him over, and then it had felt rude not to accept her invitation.

Perhaps, he had mused, she had wanted the company. Perhaps he had, too.

He still wasn't entirely sure what had prompted the words from his mouth as he had sat there in the companionable silence - but it was possible he had sensed in her a need to talk, to fill that silence. Or had that sense come from him, instead? It was difficult to tell.

Nightmares, he had told her, his only explanation for his restless night. And she had surprised him with her response - but was it really that much of a surprise? She had seen a lot in her time, after all. Been through a lot. Just as he had.

"Terrible things, aren't they?" He utters with a faint thread of humour. It is a moment of empathy between them - two people who can understand each other in their suffering. He falls silent again for a brief paise. Then, somewhat uncharacteristically, he decides to let someone in.

"I have all of their memories inside my head, you know." He looks out across the city around them, at the darkened windows of the homes behind which the people of Fontaine slumber. "Everything from the past four hundred years, and beyond. I do not dream anymore - not the way I used to. All of my dreams now are people's memories. I see faces I do not know, feel emotions that are not mine. Sometimes they are happy memories, and I get to share in the joy and delight they bring. And then... sometimes they are not."

His eyes close, willing back the flashes of horror that are summoned to his mind at the mention. "These are the ones that haunt me. I feel their fear, their pain, their anguish. It is suffocating." He would go mad with it, he is certain, if he didn't have people to ground him. If he couldn't find solace in the seabed, submerging himself fully in the water that feels like home.

"What about you?" He asks, turning his gaze now to her. "What troubles your mind?" There is a pause, and a slight fluster about him. "Forgive me. That is not my place. I should not have asked."

[immobiliter]

       He could take all the time he needed to answer — or not answer at all, if he did not wish to share. There was trust enough between them that Furina respected if he was not ready to confide in what was troubling him. But something was troubling him — whether her own experience had simply made her more attuned to the suffering of those around her, or she was beginning to pick up on Vautrin's tells, for all that their dinner and conversation had been pleasant and enjoyable as always, some underlying thread of tension had lingered in the air between them.

       But when her friend did finally speak, the nature of his question was... unexpected, to say the least.

       “ Love? ” Her eyes widened, before brows furrowed as she seriously considered the question. What a question. Of course, she knew what love was: the topic of countless stories and operas and plays over the centuries, a concept that had endlessly fascinated and inspired humanity and likely would for millennia to come. How many times had Furina been invited to play the role of the lover on stage? The lovestruck girl in the first throes of giddy desire, the wife betrayed by her cheating husband, the woman consumed by her own longing. She had played all of these parts, brought them to life on stage, evoked the correct emotions to make her performance seem believable and move her audience.

       And yet, love was not a feeling that she had any personal experience with. For five centuries, it had no place in her life. Fiction had taught Furina that to love was to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable was a treacherous thing when there was a dreadful secret at play, one that she had vowed to uphold at the expense of her own freedom. By daring to love anyone, she would have put the entirety of Fontaine at risk.

       “ Uh, no, I don't believe I have. ” She sounded a little sad as she said it, but Vautrin's question brought with it curiosity, too. Furina watched him pour another drink, saw the nerves in his expression, knew that there was something he wanted to confess to her. She tilted her head towards him, and spoke softly, slowly. “ Have you? ”

@immobiliter: would it help to talk about it? ( furina for vautrin! )

Talk about what? The words are there, ready upon his lips, but he doesn't speak them aloud. It is habit, to brush off probing questions that might trigger vulnerability, to avoid the subject so that he can maintain his pretense of stability. A habit that started young, and is now incredibly hard to shake. But this is not someone he feels he has to hide from, and he has a strong feeling that even should he try, she would see through him in an instant.

She has experience, after all, of playing an act.

So rather than dismiss her words, he instead takes a brief pause to gather himself, finishing the last of the wine in his glass as a means of extending his silence. He can trust her, he knows this without question. She has imparted upon him her greatest secret, had the faith in him that he would keep it for her. He has sought a means of repaying that trust ever since - she already knows the details of his return, of the centuries-long swim in an ancient sea, and what else about him could ever match the scale of her secret?

Nothing, truly, but... this, perhaps, can at least measure a fraction. A secret he believed he had carried to his death, never to see the light of day, yet now bubbles beneath the surface like a geyser ready to blow.

"I... hm..." A poor start, but he has always found it difficult to talk so openly about himself. He cannot look at her - not out of any shame, but perhaps a little embarrassment, because this secret is so... human. Such a small scale matter compared to all that she has witnessed and suffered through, and whilst that certainly doesn't negate its impact upon him, he still feels... silly, almost, for even talking about it.

He busies himself with pouring a fresh glass of wine, keeping his hands busy and his mind focused on a task. He doesn't usually drink more than a glass over dinner, but he needs some liquid courage if he is to speak out loud the secret his heart has carried for over four hundred years.

"Have you..." A sigh, a mental shake. Get on with it, blockhead, just say it. A familiar chiding voice inside his head that he can never argue against. "Have you ever been in love, Miss Furina?"