Chapter Text
“My name is Furina de Fontaine,” she said, staring into the mirror.
But that wasn’t quite right. The title ‘de Fontaine’ was one that came with her role as the Hydro Archon, because now that she was just a human, it seemed extraneous to keep it there.
“My name is Furina,” she said instead, continuing to stare intently at the blue eyes, which stared hard back at her.
She had done this before, staring into the mirror many times, as she prayed fervently to the true Hydro Archon, her mirror-self, wishing that she would answer her prayers, but no response ever came. She had been all alone.
And she wondered why she had thought this would be any different, now that the curtains had fallen and the play was over. If Neuvillette’s words were correct, and she had no doubt that he was right, Focalors was now and truly gone, and Furina was now and truly alone.
But who was Furina?
“My name is Furina,” she said again, fiddling slightly with the hem of her jacket. “And I like the colour blue. And I like cakes.”
But did she really like the colour blue, or had that too been thrust upon her, with her responsibilities as an archon?
“My name is Furina and I like cakes.”
And this time, at least, she could say that those words were true.
Unbidden, she let out a dark chuckle.
Wasn’t that nice?
Five hundred years of existence, and all she knew was her name and the fact that she liked cakes.
She could not even say for sure if she was a nice person. She had tried to be, at the start, until the pressure by the people to put up a more haughty and dramatic front had taken over her desire to be nice. And to be liked.
At the start, at the very beginning, Furina could be quite certain that she had been a nice person. But now, after five hundred years of pretending otherwise, it was difficult to say whether at some point, the mask had melded into the person, leaving nothing behind.
“My name is Furina, and I like cakes,” she tried to say with a more gentle lilt in her voice, instead of her usual dramatic affectations, but somehow the words still came out imperiously.
She clenched her fists and sucked in a breath. “My-name-is-Furina-and-I-like-cakes,” she burst out quickly, but even that sounded superficial, contrived, and completely untrue. But it was true. She was trying so, so, hard, but now even the truth rang like lies in her ears.
Furina crumbled to the ground, fighting back her tears uselessly, as they poured out of her, splattering all over.
“My name is Furina,” she cried, “And I don’t know who I am anymore.”