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“I’m the world’s worst tattoo artist.”
Albedo hums from across the room, smiling slightly into his sketchbook. “What happened this time?”
“Fischl hated the tattoo I designed to commemorate her latest role. You should have seen the look on her face when I pulled it out, it was like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion.” With a long sigh, Sucrose throws herself face-first onto the staffroom couch.
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” He consoles. “We both know you have a bit of a tendency to catastrophize.”
“A bit is being too kind.” She mumbles into the cool leather. From across the room, she hears Albedo snort as he resumes his sketching, lead scratching softly against paper. The sound is soothing.
“What am I supposed to do?” She whines quietly, turning onto her back. Sucrose frowns at the ceiling. “I poured everything into that floral outline and now I don’t have a single idea. She said she wanted something to represent the Princessin der Verurteilung, so I went all out with the roses and lilies, but she looked at them and said it looked too normie.”
Albedo’s pencil goes silent as he turns to frown at her. With the way the light bounces off him, the golden star tattooed on his neck almost looks like it’s glowing. “Normie? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know!” Sucrose sighs, throwing her hands over her eyes. “I don’t know what she wants and that’s the problem. Every time I try to talk to her about what she likes she goes off on a tangent and I feel like I know even less in the end.”
The sound of Albedo’s chair scraping across the tiles fills the room. “Sucrose, you do know this is not your fault, right? Artists design the wrong pieces all the time. I think I showed her 6 different concept sketches for Oz before she finally settled on one she liked.”
Sucrose lets out a frustrated noise and rises off the couch, watching Albedo make his way to her. “I know,” She frowns. “I just really want her to like what she gets… That’s… well, that’s our whole job.”
“And you’ll get there eventually. She’s not exactly a doormat; if Fischl doesn’t like something, she won’t get it tattooed. You don’t have to worry about her getting something she doesn’t like.”
But it seems that Albedo’s attempt at consolation doesn’t go quite as planned. Sucrose's eyes widen with horror as she gazes up at him. “What if she hates every single sketch I show her and just ends up leaving to get inked by someone else?”
Alarm flashes across Albedo’s face. “Wha—that’s not—”
“And then Beidou fires me because I’m actually the world’s worst tattoo artis—”
“Sucrose,” Albedo says pointedly, hands coming out to grasp her perpetually flushed cheeks. “Sucrose, you are a talented artist and Beidou would never fire you. You know I wouldn’t lie about that.”
She looks away from him sheepishly. “I know you wouldn’t lie…”
“Exactly. So stop kicking yourself and get up. Wander around and find a new muse, like you always do. There’s a new flower shop down the street, why don’t you start there?”
“Rosie’s, right?” Albedo nods as he lets go of her.
“I don’t know…” She frowns. “Maybe I should just take a break from the design for a few days and come back to it later...”
“Absolutely not.” Albedo sends her a pointed look. “You know that just gives you time to stew in anxiety and get more worked up. You’re going to Rosie’s for inspiration—that’s an order from your supervisor.”
Sucrose’s eyes flick to the ceiling as she mulls over the idea. “Okay…” She mutters softly as her eyebrows pinch together intensely. “Okay,” Sucrose repeats more firmly, nodding once to herself before bringing her hands up and pressing them firmly into her cheeks with a sharp smack. “I can do this!”
Albedo startles backwards, surprised expression melting away into fondness. “You can do this,” He nods with amusement.
And just like that, with a determined look on her face, Sucrose is gathering her supplies and pulling on her frayed leather jacket. Across the back of it is an embroidered bundle of sweet flowers, one that Sucrose stitched into the material herself. The art is a replica of her first tattoo: a large back piece stretching from the nape of her neck to her tailbone, a black and white bouquet of her favourite flowers. With a grateful smile to Albedo, she pushes her way out of the staffroom.
“Wait—Sucrose, it’s raining right now!”
Being soaked from head to toe isn’t the best feeling, but as the chilly rain begins to soak through her teal hair, Sucrose finds she doesn’t care. She’s determined. Hurrying her way down the sidewalk, she doesn't stop until there’s a glowing magenta sign in front of her: Rosie’s. A quiet bell chimes as she steps into the shop, and she’s surprised to find the whole room illuminated in soft pinks and blues. “Whoa,” She breathes out, dripping a puddle of rainwater onto the black marble floor.
“Welcome to Rosie’s, how can I help you?”
The voice comes from the back of the room, nearly making Sucrose jump out of her skin. She takes a sharp breath and tries to calm her pounding heart as she turns to her unexpected companion.
And her heart only picks up pace.
“Oh,” Her eyes widen slightly as she catches sight of the person in front of her.
She’s beautiful in all the ways that make Sucrose’s heart twist sharply in her chest. Dark magenta hair curling around her chin. Slitted skirt showcasing the curve of her fishnet-covered legs, giving Sucrose a peek at the ornate dagger tattooed across her thigh. Plush lips painted in dark purple and pulled into a natural looking frown, like this is the woman’s natural expression. She looks a bit mean if Sucrose is being honest, and the thought only makes her cheeks warm a little more.
“Can I help you?” The woman repeats, slightly unimpressed by Sucrose’s dazed expression.
“Yes! Sorry—Yes, you can help me.” Sucrose squeaks as she stumbles a little closer, nearly slipping in the wet trail she leaves across the floor.
Something about her flustered expression must amuse the woman because, “Right,” She shifts her stance and raises a brow at Sucrose. “So, how exactly can I help?”
“Oh! Right, um... yes. I’m here for some flowers.”
“Well, you’re in the right place.” The shopkeeper smiles wryly. If she was alone right now, this would be the point where Sucrose smacks her head against a wall.
“Sorry,” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m a tattoo artist and my client wants a floral piece that’s… different. I was hoping to get a bouquet of your most wonderfully strange flowers.”
Surprise filters through the woman’s eyes at the words tattoo artist, and then a look of recognition settles. She gives Sucrose a one over and she can feel her cheeks warm even more under such an attentive gaze. “Wonderfully strange…” The woman’s dark brows pinch together as she thinks over the request. Sucrose uses it as an excuse to admire the way her shirt clings to her strong upper body, white cotton stretched over the curve of pronounced deltoids and straining against her chest—
“Okay, I have a few ideas, follow me.”
Eye’s blown wide, Sucrose is pulled from her trance. She tears her gaze up only to find the shopkeep’s expression pulled into a smirk. There’s a moment where Sucrose thinks she’s going to be teased for her wandering eyes, but instead, the woman pulls her arms behind herself to casually stretch her back. The motion pushes her breasts out even more and Sucrose finds herself looking away in embarrassment. “L-Let’s get started!”
The sound of smoky laughter fills the room and Sucrose has to resist squeezing her thighs together. She can imagine that laugh in different circumstances, a little sharper and more breathless against worn bed sheets—
“Come on, I’ll show you some fun ones,” With a wave of her clawed hand, Sucrose is chasing after the woman’s swinging hips, stopping before a counter full of orchids. Some are pink, others burgundy, but the shopkeeper reaches to the back of the counter and plucks a single-stemmed flower from its basket. With a small smile, she reaches out to hand the flower to Sucrose, and as she catches sight of it, she can’t help but gasp.
It’s a white flower, nothing like any other orchid Sucrose has seen before. The petals are arranged so the bloom almost looks like a little angel, hooded with wings outstretched from its back.
“Oh, this is lovely.” Sucrose says in a quiet whisper, turning the stem over in her hand.
“It’s an odd one,” Her lips pull into the barest hint of a smile as she looks at Sucrose’s awestruck face. “Habenaria Grandifloriformis, also known as the Angel Orchid. I had it shipped all the way from southern Sumeru and it only grows during this time of year—monsoon season.”
Sucrose’s once flustered gaze turns to her with startling clarity. “I want this one.” Her gaze goes distant as she begins to speak again, “It’s perfect for the Princessin—she’s a force of good in her world of evil. If I cluster these around the Princessin’s eyepatch and shade around the corners of the hood they’ll look like angels looming over her and—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, excitement deflating. “S-Sorry! I don’t mean to, uhm, bore you with my rambling.”
But the woman tilts her head with an unreadable expression. If Sucrose didn’t know any better, she would almost say she looks… fond.
“You’re not boring me, it’s quite interesting.” With a raised brow she points one tapered nail to her thigh, gesturing to the dagger tattooed there. “I like tattoos, I was a little surprised when you said you were a tattoo artist—never trust an artist with no ink and all that.”
“Oh,” Sucrose smiles slightly at her. “I have tattoos, really big ones in fact. I have a giant one across my back, one across my sternum and a few scattered across my thighs and hips. If you’re interested in some new ink, you can trust any of the artists I work with, they’re all unbelievably talented, especially Albedo.” Something about what Sucrose says must be funny because it pulls a genuine chuckle from her.
The woman smiles knowingly. “Albedo is the one who did my dagger.”
“What?”
She stretches her leg out playfully to give Sucrose a better look at the tattoo and Sucrose can feel her heart skip a beat. “Yeah, me and my friend Kaeya were his guinea pigs when he decided he wanted to get into tattooing. I have a dozen little ones from Albedo and the dagger was a gift when he finally got an apprenticeship. I’m assuming Albedo was the one who told you to come over here, right Sucrose?”
“Y-You know my name?”
“Course I do, Albedo never shuts up about how talented you are, about how he wishes you would just trust yourself a little more.”
And suddenly, a million little puzzle pieces begin to fit together. Albedo’s insistence on her heading over to Rosie’s. The fact that this woman is alarmingly close to being Sucrose’s ‘type’: strong, tall, dark, and a little mean looking—something that Albedo teases her incessantly for.
“I’m Rosaria, by the way.”
Rosaria. Sucrose has heard that name leave Albedo's lips a thousand times:
I think you’d like my friend Rosaria.
I’m heading to coffee with Rosaria, you’re welcome to tag along.
I’m telling you, you should meet my friend Rosaria.
“You’re Rosaria?” Sucrose feels her whole body warm.
“Oh? You know about me? What nasty secrets has Albedo told you?”
My friend Rosaria is thinking about a new tattoo, think you’d be able to do it without getting distracted by her boobs the whole time?
“N-Nothing!” She stutters and the laugh that Rosaria lets out tells Sucrose that she doesn’t believe her in the slightest. “Has Albedo ever said anything else about me?” Her heart thrashes at the thought of all the embarrassing things he could have said.
“Yeah, he said you were my type: small, flustered, fun to tease but with a core of steel hidden beneath,” She pauses to wink at Sucrose’s blushing face. “He failed to mention just how cute you were though.”
“C-Cute?” Sucrose stutters and hurriedly covers her mouth before anything else embarrassing can slip out of her. Rosaria’s eyes crinkle sweetly when she smiles, an unexpectedly girlish charm. Sucrose wouldn’t be able to look away from her even if she wanted to.
“Yes, you’re awfully cute.” Suddenly, with an almost sheepish look, Rosaria takes a step back from Sucrose to put some space between them. She can’t even remember when they’d gotten so close, but Sucrose finds herself missing the proximity immediately. “Sorry if that was a little… much. Albedo tells me I have no tact, and as much as teasing you is fun, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Her pale cheeks brighten just slightly with colour. “I have a few more flowers that might be good with your whole Good vs. Evil theme. Some Devil’s Hands might make a nice contrast to the Angel Orchids, they’re just this way—"
Just as Rosaria waves at her to keep moving, Sucrose reaches out to take hold of her wrist. The touch feels like coming alive.
“How do you feel about a date?”
Rosaria’s eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. The way her cheeks get a little darker makes pride swell in Sucrose’s chest. “You’re asking me on a date?”
Sucrose tightens her hold and pulls Rosaria a little closer. She swallows around the cloying anxiety in her throat and looks up at her beautiful face, watching the shock wash away into something both bright and mysterious.
“Yeah, let’s go on a date. M-Maybe you can come after hours and I can give you a flash tattoo, free of charge, of course! My treat… then…. then we could get dinner? Maybe?”
Rosaria leans into her space, plastering Sucrose’s back against the orchid shelf. If she leans any closer, their chests are going to press together, and the thought makes Sucrose’s head spin. “Maybe? Or definitely? I don’t want to sign up for a date only for you to flake out.” Rosaria's smile is sharp as she brings her thumb up to trace the curve of Sucrose’s jaw. The shiver that runs through her is involuntary.
If only Rosaria would just lean forward a little more.
“D-D-Definitely!” Sucrose stammers, eyes wide as she gazes up at her. “Definitely.” She repeats, more level. Her hand stretches across the back of Rosaria’s neck, gently pulling her down so their faces crowd together.
She’s so close that Sucrose can feel the warmth of her breath as she responds. “Alright, we have a deal, little sweet flower.”
Sucrose leans in without hesitation.
“So, still feeling like the world’s worst tattoo artist?” Albedo smirks as he catches sight of Sucrose’s swollen lips and mussed hair.
In her hands is an unnecessarily large bouquet. There’s a couple of strangely shaped white flowers, almost like little angels, and several dark red ones that look like clawed hands. They clash beautifully, and Albedo can already begin to envision how Sucrose will use them in Fischl’s tattoo. But the thing that makes him smile is the dozen sweet flowers tucked away between their petals.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say it was a successful trip?”
Sucrose finally turns to look at him, gaze full of stars. He bets that she doesn’t even realize she’s biting into her bottom lip, just barely containing her smile.
“I think I'm feeling quite inspired.”