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On the morning after Miorine Rembran left the woman she was in love with, she woke up early to water her tomatoes.
It was not, strictly speaking, necessary. She’d set up the drip irrigation system and programmed in its parameters herself, taking into account such vagaries as how densely packed the soil was, how aerated the roots were, and even the micro-gradations in nutrient distribution in what was supposed to be homogeneously applied fertilizer. If anything, she was throwing off her own optimizations by taking a spritz-bottle shaped hammer to her carefully-calculated input levels. Miorine did it regardless, because it kept her hands busy, her head down and her mind on something other than the previous day. Listening to the sounds of spraying and the echoing of her own footsteps kept a particular wail from replaying constantly in her ears. Focusing her gaze on her yield, in its various stages of ripening, momentarily banished the image of a wounded and devastated face.
The rhythm she had managed to establish by immersing herself in repetitive, soothing stimuli to drown out her own thoughts was soon intruded upon by footsteps that weren’t her own. Miorine stiffened, knowing that there was only one person whom she had allowed to enter her hallowed space. Her already-racing heart quickened even further and she gulped down mouthfuls of air through a dry throat, before she settled her bottle down and stood up straight. Unable to determine whether she was dreading facing her so soon, or whether she was actually grateful for a chance to see her and speak to her again, Miorine braced herself and turned around.
Chuchu stood before Miorine, holding a thick envelope in one hand while the other rested on her hip, leaning casually to one side.
“Oh, it’s you,” Miorine blurted out before she could stop herself, unable to mask the disappointment in her voice. “What are you–Ow!”
Unceremoniously, Chuchu literally hurled the envelope into her face. The corner of the letter struck her just below the eye, hard enough to sting. Miorine flinched and caught it reflexively as it fell down her front, wincing at the pain.
“My resignation from GUND-Arm Inc.,” Chuchu said flatly.
“I see ... Of course.”
In some way, Miorine had to admire Chuchu’s dedication, going out of her way to get her hands on some paper just so she could throw it at her. Miorine turned the letter over in her hands as Chuchu turned around to leave.
“Only one resignation?” Miorine asked quickly. She shouldn’t be prolonging this conversation–honestly, it was a miracle that Chuchu was willing to restrain herself this much already–but Miorine couldn’t let Chuchu go without asking her about the one thing she shouldn’t be asking about. “I can’t imagine Earth House is very happy with me right now.”
“Sort that out yourself, Spacian.”
Let her go, Miorine told herself, before blurting out more words. “What about Suletta? Is she still in my employ?”
Only after she’d spoken did Miorine realize just how heartless and petty she sounded.
Chuchu looked back over her shoulder, eyes flaring wide, lips curled into a snarl. “Suletta’s not here.”
Miorine had expected Chuchu to say any number of hurtful things, but not that. “What?” Miorine asked, croaking like the air had been punched out of her lungs.
“She lost Aerial. Why would she stay at GUND-Arm, or this stupid school at all?” Chuchu demanded. “She’s left.”
“Where?” Miorine wished she didn’t sound so frantic, so panicked. “Back to Mercury?”
“I’m done wasting my breath on you, Spacian,” Chuchu spat, her tone and furious expression final.
Miorine watched her leave, dread pooling in her stomach the whole while.
—
Chuchu was lying. Chuchu had decided to evolve her methods of inflicting pain on people, had graduated beyond mere fisticuffs and was now using people’s worst fears against them. Chuchu couldn’t possibly be telling the truth, because how could Suletta have left Asticassia in the span of a single day, a single night? Didn’t Chuchu know how hard it was to get off this blasted space station?
These were the thoughts racing through Miorine’s mind as she promptly left her plants, heading straight for the GUND-Arm offices. Miorine’s top speed was not particularly fast, nor was her endurance particularly well-honed, but she hurried on regardless, panting heavily. She’d resolved that if Chuchu wouldn’t give her a straight answer, she’d find someone who would.
Unfortunately for Miorine, she soon realized what a challenging prospect that would be. The offices of GUND-Arm Inc were bare and silent. Miorine stood at the doorway, peering around, unable to catch so much as a glimpse of anyone from Earth House.
“Ms. Miorine?”
No one in the office, at least. Miorine spun around to face Lilique, looking nonplussed.
“Where’s Suletta?” Miorine demanded, without any preamble.
Lilique did not look any less bemused. “I don’t really know, Ms. Miorine. We haven’t seen her since …”
Miorine looked down at her feet as Lilique trailed off. She was grateful that she had the courtesy to not name the event, to not say ‘since you betrayed her and broke her heart’ to Miorine’s face.
“Fine,” Miorine hissed through gritted teeth, and stomped away.
—
“My, my, what brings the princess to–gah!”
Miorine didn’t even bother determining which of the interchangeable, insufferably smarmy Jeturk House lackeys had been speaking to her before she shoved them out of the way. She stormed into the Dueling Committee’s lounge, glaring around at the occupants.
While Jeturk House had often borne witness to her various stormy moods, they had never quite seen her in a spitting rage, fists balled up, eyes bloodshot and teeth bared. Miorine Rembran did not strike a particularly intimidating figure, but then, neither did Chuchu Panlunch. Jeturk House thus remained uncharacteristically quiet and let her carry on with whatever it was she was doing.
Slim though her chances of finding Suletta here were, Miorine vainly scanned for her anyway. When it became clear that Suletta was most certainly absent, she settled on the other person she’d been hoping to find here: Guel.
Guel looked back at her from his position on the couch, a familiar sadness in his eyes. He shook his head very slightly when he met Miorine’s gaze, confirming that he had not seen Suletta either.
Miorine’s shoulders slumped, her fists slackening. Her feet felt heavy as she wordlessly trudged away.
—
Not that much time had passed since Miorine left the greenhouse, so why did it feel so different when she returned?
This morning, she’d been doing her best to keep her hands and mind occupied, to fill them with meaningless, empty tasks so that there was no room left for anything else. Chuchu’s visit had completely shattered her paltry shield, however, and allowed every memory and emotion she’d been struggling to box up and seal away to instead spill out untrammeled.
Miorine paused at the threshold, staring at the spot where Suletta had first approached her, all those days ago, timidly thanking her and asking about tomatoes. She was leaning down and touching the floor, grazing it with her fingertips before she seized hold of herself and staggered inside.
Indoors was no better, however. Miorine looked around at what had once been her refuge, the one place in this blasted school where she felt safe and at peace, and found that her sanctum, her holy of holies, was no longer hers alone. Every inch, every plant and every tile had been touched by Suletta, nurtured by her hand or brightened by her presence. Suletta had adjusted the skylight to allow for the ideal illumination pattern that Miorine liked, had packed and administered compost to the soil, had lovingly kept Miorine abreast of every little thing she’d done while Miorine had been away. When Miorine herself had been absent, Suletta had maintained and sustained her garden, her shrine, her peace.
And now she was gone. Miorine didn’t even know where.
Slowly, Miorine sank to her knees and picked up her water bottle with shaking hands. She dropped it as she moved to spray another plant, her hands flying to her half-open mouth to suppress the sob that escaped her lips. Doubling over, the pain finally settling into her heart, Miorine hid her face among the leaves that Suletta had blessed with her care, and wept.