Chapter Text
Ask Jean what her hobbies are, and she'd have to think about it. Most likely, one of her replies would be 'scheduling.'
The Acting Grand Master had an immense number of draws on her time. For example; absorbing and distributing reports, consulting with officials from within Mondstadt and without, training sessions with foot soldiers and knights from the companies under her command. Amongst all this, she has to find time for myriad odd tasks outside her official duties. There are also, of course, the essentials; meals, exercise, socialising, prayer and, when she has time for it, sleep.
A complete weekly schedule eased away the layer of stress brought on by such a workload. The mere act of scheduling a workload of this scale was an engaging challenge all to itself! Every task assigned, hour by hour, day by day. Items crossed off, work completed, duty done. Jean knew few greater pleasures.
Despite what certain librarians or reconnaissance captains might tell you, her schedule was by no means rigid. Allowances have to be made for long-running meetings, emergency requests or the occasional blinding migraine. A delayed task could simply be marked with red and rewritten down the list, a note appended regarding the reason for its delay and an hour or three added past the time she 'finished' work. Rare was a day without some red ink here and there.
Noting the reason is important. Failure to complete a task is, indeed, a failure, but there is no shame in it as long as you face the reason, learn from the mistake and rectify the error. Reviewing the previous week's list of reasons was always instructive, and each lesson led to a method of rectification. Add fifteen minutes to any meeting with Lieutenant Hector, as he is incapable of communicating anything in a hurry. Find a collar with a loud bell for Margaret's cat, so it can be located without my assistance. Ask Lisa for stronger painkillers. Something can always be learnt.
Which is why, to one familiar with Jean's schedule, today's document was striking – both for the heightened presence of red ink, and the complete absence of reasons.
9:30am - Mediate a dispute between the Chair of the Commerce Guild and Head of Wharf Security. Crossed out.
10:00am - Sparring session with promising officer candidates from the 2nd Company. Crossed out.
11:30am -
Summarise three legal opinions on proposed church edicts for the Assistant to the Deacon.
Crossed out.
Reasons existed, of course, despite their absence from the page. Jean's attempt at mediation failed because, for the life of her, she was unable to stay focussed on either party's testimony and took in no detail. All present at the meeting left in a state of frustration. The sparring session was cut short by the sympathetic yet deeply confused Captain of the 2nd Company after Jean was knocked prone in three consecutive bouts, and even disarmed in the last. The Assistant Deacon arrived to find Jean's summary unfinished and she was forced to pass all three lengthy opinions on in full, much to his annoyance and her deep embarrassment.
Normally, such egregious failures would demand urgent study, lest these errors be repeated. Face, learn, rectify – it was a simple, three-step process. Today's stumbling block was the second step because, in this case, it was unnecessary.
Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, Jean knew. She knew why she'd been distracted while sparring with soldiers well below her skill level. She knew what disrupted her ability to serve as peacemaker. She knew what kept her from applying her legendary focus to dull legalese. All three incidents were connected, and a single lesson could be drawn.
But perhaps, if you bury the reasons, you might also bury the lesson before it was drawn, before it became clear in one's mind. That way, you need never reach step 3, and that quiet, foggy terror rectification seemed to carry would forever remain at arms length, reachable only with one's fingertips.
"You asked for me, dearest?"
Jean started upright with a jolt, like a child caught slacking on their studies.
Lisa stood at the threshold of her office. It took her a few moments to process the question. "Yes! Yes, I did, thank you." Jean exhaled, settling herself. "I wondered if you had time to brew something for me."
Lisa drew the door shut, her manner shifting slightly with the privacy gained. "Of course. What can I do?" Concern was evident in her voice.
Jean averted her gaze, returning to her attempt to make it past page two of this report on recent Hilichurl activity. "I wondered if, ah... you knew of any potions that could assist with focus."
"Oh?" Lisa glanced around the office, and Jean felt herself cringe a little. No doubt, Lisa noticed the stacks of documents on Jean's desk, less tidy than Jean liked them. Or the coffee table with, well, coffee, half-empty mugs abandoned alongside an unfinished legal summary.
Thankfully, Lisa's gaze swiftly returned to Jean rather than linger on the mess. "Focus is rarely a problem for you, unless you're ill," Lisa said as she made her way across the office to Jean's desk. "Is something on your mind?"
Jean locked her eyes to a table of reported merchant losses, pointedly ignoring the heat creeping up her neck. "No, nothing in... nothing in particular." Why was she stammering? Why all these questions? "I just can't seem to keep my eyes on anything today." She attempted a deflection in a lighter, airier tone. "I assumed a veteran of the Akademiya would be familiar with a few late-night study aids suited to this sort of thing." Please say yes, please say yes...
Lisa hummed, leaning against the side of the desk. "Are you sure it's nothing?" Jean sensed... _something_ in Lisa's drawl. Amusement? Sarcasm, even? Something heavy rolled through her skull and over her eyes as Lisa continued to press, oh so innocently. "I have time to talk if you'd like. The library is deserted, and a sympathetic ear is often more effective than anything I could-
"Yes, thank you, I'm quite certain!" Jean's head shot up, and she flinched at Lisa's expression of deep surprise. The following moment of silence drew Jean's attention to her voice echoing off the walls, and the heat radiating from her face.
She collapsed back in her chair, sighing, burying a thumb in her temple as if to squash the ache in her skull. "I'm sorry, Lisa. It's been a trying day, I've been snapping at everyone..." Jean caught herself before she went further, and forced her eyes to meet Lisa's. "...that's no excuse. Again, I apologise, but I assure you I'm quite alright." She managed a short, hollow chuckle. "There's nothing on my mind."
Jean waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. Lisa made no motion at all, in fact. Moments passed.
Then, the corners of Lisa's mouth curled upwards. Her eyes narrowed, twinkling, and a small block of ice settled in Jean's stomach. Oh no.
Lisa tilted her head, regarding her with pity. "My dear Jean, I thought you knew." Her chuckle was warm and quite genuine. “You're a terrible liar."
"W-wh... Lisa, honestly, I'm-"
"I heard about yesterday's little dip in the fountain, you know."
That small block burst. Ice pierced the tips of Jean's fingers and the soles of her feet. She was frozen stiff.
With a sigh, Lisa pushed herself upright. She began a slow stroll around the corner of the desk. Towards Jean. "You know what I think, Acting Grand Master?"
Where Lisa's voice was languid and heavy, Jean's had abandoned its post altogether. "I... ah..."
"I think... hmm." Lisa pondered she grew closer, hips swaying. With each footfall she drew nearer. Soon, Jean would be trapped, yet she could not move.
Lisa's attention returned to Jean. Something sharp snapped from her gaze, stinging Jean's eyes as they met. "I think the Acting Grand Master knows precisely what's bothering her."
Ice flashed to steam. It roared from every inch of Jean's skin, coating her in sweat. Mona. She knows about– Desperately, she worked her throat for a word, a sound, anything to halt Lisa's advance. The barest whisper emerged. "N-no, I, I..."
Lisa's shoes tapped against Jean's boots. "Honestly Jean, you should have learnt by now." Lisa loomed over her. With a swift tug, one of Lisa's gloves was gone, one hand bare. "You have no secrets from me."
With that, Lisa leant in.
Jean's brain boiled in her skull, screaming for retreat. "L-Lisa, no I-" She gave the last of her ground, tilting back in her chair. "Wha.. what are you-"
CLONK. The back of her chair hit the wall. It was over. Jean was prone, defenceless, a mere plaything for-
Something cool and soft pressed to Jean's forehead. Jean opened her eyes, just now aware she'd squeezed them shut. Her vision was obscured by the back of Lisa's bare hand, resting against her brow.
The librarian hummed, withdrawing her hand. "My initial assessment was wrong, after all. You have a fever. I suspect you caught a chill in that fountain."
Jean blinked once, twice. She, uh... she was feeling somewhat warm, she supposed.
Lisa pulled back, an irritable spark to her air. “Darling, we had an agreement. If you are tired, I will assist, but if you are ill, you will rest. I'll not help worsen your condition for the sake of a few hours work, or misplaced pride in your inability to delegate.”
As her faculties sputtered back to a functional state, Jean felt an odd, rising indignance. “Wh… no, Lisa, I'm not ill, I-"
"Oh?" Lisa cocked her head to the side, eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you aware of another... reason for this heightened temperature? Your skin is quite flushed, you know.”
Temperature grew higher, skin flushed further. Overtaxed faculties offered no alternatives, and Jean slumped, defeated. "...no. Must be a fever, then," she mumbled, taking refuge in Lisa's misdiagnosis.
Jean heard an affectionate sigh. Lisa's hand brushed Jean's temple, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You silly, stubborn thing," she said with a grin. "Come on, straight to bed with you."
Jean was quite practiced when it came to masking her emotions. At all times she strove to present a calm, composed Dandelion Knight to the world. As a result, Lisa took great pride in her ability to pry at that mask. She firmly believed she was better at it than anyone else in Jean's inner circle. She could tell when Jean was overwhelmed, or exhausted. She knew the signs of suppressed rage. She could sense when Jean was ill, and when Jean was not.
Today, however, she had not required this ability. Where others might have seen Jean and thought her merely irritable or genuinely ill, Lisa had the advantage of witnessing Jean at breakfast, before her condition had interfered with her work.
The contrast was instructive. Jean was distracted in both instances, but without the irritation of incomplete tasks she had been, well...
It felt wrong to describe the Acting Grand Master of the Ordo Favonius as goofy, even for Lisa. But, it was the only word that fit.
Jean's attention had wandered throughout the meal, never resting on Lisa for more than a few moments. In the end Lisa gave up on making conversation. Instead, she chose to fully absorb the sight before her. Jean Gunnhildr, staring at nothing in particular, a big dopey grin plastered across her face. It was a vision worth committing to memory.
Whomever this 'Mona' Kaeya had told her about was, Lisa had to give her credit. She could merely pry, where this woman had shattered. A mask lay in pieces on the floor.
Lisa knew this was a rare experience for her friend. While Jean may not have been aware of her affliction at breakfast, Lisa was certain Jean knew its nature by now. At some point, it seemed, Jean's stubbornness had reared up. She was most likely resisting what could only do her good. Quite typical.
Therefore, Lisa had no intention of assisting Jean with her focus. For the second day in a row, what Jean really needed was a push.