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There's not much Furina misses from her time as an Archon.
The position had come with its various luxuries, sure – the resplendent rooms of the Palais Mermonia, the afternoon teacakes she'd loved to order on a whim, the front row seatings to the grandest of plays – but against the suffocating loneliness of playing that role, the constant dangling sword that was the prophecy, all that splendor did little to convince her to stay. Fontaine was safe now, after all, and there was nothing at the Palais but the memory of tears. Nothing she'd wanted to bring into her new life.
So about three weeks after moving out of the opera house, situating herself in a quaint flat downtown and acclimating to the modesties of human life, she was surprised to find herself missing Neuvillette.
…actually, scratch that. Maybe it shouldn't have been so surprising. Despite how miserable her centuries of godhood had been, that didn't change the fact that Neuvillette had been a constant in it. Even if she couldn't confide in him completely. Even if they weren't friends…she still got used to him being there. In his office. Down the hall. Stoic and kind and dependable, just one call away.
It was fine, though. Just fine. So what if they hadn't talked since she'd moved out? Furina wasn't his Archon and she certainly wasn't a child, and any duty they may have had to each other would have vanished the moment she stepped down. Besides, Neuvillette had a whole nation to run now, his duties compounded without an Archon or the Oratrice, and his hands were probably full even without having a (fraud) ex-god to babysit. They'd said their goodbyes in the Palais after everything was done, and that had been that.
…or so she thought, until she came home one evening and found a very familiar envelope in her doorslot; penned in an elegant curling script, addressed from the mailbox of the Palais itself.
Furina had sucked in a breath. Tentatively, she undid the blue wax seal, pulled out the perfumed paper inside, and started to read:
– From the desk of Iudex Neuvillette of the Palais Mermonia, Fontaine –
Dearest Furina,
Have you been well? I apologize for not checking in sooner – the duties of the Iudex have been rather pressing as of late, what with your abdication and the receding floodwaters, and though I meant to get in touch, I've had precious time to gather my thoughts and pen what I could consider a suitably worded letter. I hope you can forgive the delay.
I've heard from Sedene that you've secured a place for yourself, and I found that to be most excellent news. I trust your chosen housing is comfortable enough for your standards? Should you want for anything more, please know my previous offer still stands – simply specify what you need, and the Palais will be happy to supply you.
On top of that, I hope you haven't had much trouble acclimating to your new life. Though you yourself specified the desire to move out, I can understand the difficulties of adapting to human society; and you already seemed deeply troubled by the events of the past few days before you left. If it's support you need, I'd be happy to give it to the best of my ability. But if it's space you need instead, or a preference to separate yourself completely from any more associations with the Palais, you need only say the word.
All-in-all, it was lovely to hear that you're taking steps to move forward. Though the operahouse has since been bereft of much of the excitement and theatrics your presence gave, I hope these weeks of human living have been exceedingly kind to you.
Yours truly,
Neuvillette
Furina had stared at the letter for a few moments before bursting into giggles. Archons, this letter was so…Neuvillette. Was that a thing? Could she describe a letter as being so Neuvillette? Well if she could, then this letter would take the cake. And the icing. And the cream. And– huh. Now she was crying. Why was she crying?
…
…
…Archons.
She really missed him.
(No one had really offered to reach out in these three weeks. Her neighbors were still too wary of her, caught somewhere between suspicion and apprehension, and even the folks she'd seen walk down the street would often give her a wide berth. Neuvillette had been busy with his duties, Navia with rebuilding Poisson; the Traveler promptly departing Fontaine for brighter waters on some distant side of the world. The only person who'd come close to bridging the gap had been the pink-haired journalist from the Steambird, trying immediately to secure an interview only to temporarily drop the subject when she'd realized Furina was in no headspace to give it. Other than that, Furina had hardly left the four walls of her home, squashed between the few stuffed toys she'd taken with her from the Palais, finding comfort where she could get it. And wondered, dismally, if she'd just traded one lonely life for another.)
Furina bats the tears from her eyes, smile still tugging at her lips. She'd stood up, rummaged around her flat for paper and ink, and sat down to write.
Dearest Neuvillette,
Enchanted to hear from you! I've been doing most excellently, thank you for your concern
Her quill trails off at that second sentence. She stares at the words, feeling strangely hollow, a lonely feeling permeating through her chest.
Furina takes a long, staggered breath. Then she drags her pen across the words and starts again.
Dearest Neuvillette,
Thank you for your letter, it was nice to hear from you again. The Chief Justice’s work hasn't been too much for you, I hope? You'd make Sedene and the rest of the Melusines awfully sad if you overworked yourself, so here's your reminder to take breaks and drink your dozens of flavors of water.
Furina giggles softly to herself, some of the tightness in her chest easing. Her grip on the quill relaxes as she continues to write:
I've been doing…alright since I've stepped down. It hasn't been completely easy-going, but it hasn't been too difficult, either. My new accomodations are small, but it's cosy enough. I don't think I need to invoke the esteemed Iudex’s aid just yet, but if there's anything I could claim to miss, it'd be the macarons from the Palais chefs. Are they still as sweet and delectable as I remember? I hope they aren't slacking off now that I'm no longer there to quality check the confections.
As for adjusting to human society, I don't believe the people are quite ready to face me just yet. I can understand their apprehension, but it does make things a little hard. I can manage for now, but if need be, I'll try reaching out if you can promise the same from you. It's come to my attention that bottling things up is rarely good for anyone.
Again, it's been wonderful to hear from you, and I hope you and everyone else in the Palais have been doing well since I've left. Please give my regards to the staff on my behalf, and I hope things ease up for you soon as well.
Yours truly,
Furina
Furina gives her letter a brief once-over. Then looks it over again. And again, chewing on her lip in doubt. It's likely…the most honest she'd been about her feelings in any letter. Would it be appropriate? Should she rewrite it to sound more…formal, more appropriate for someone like Neuvillette? More befitting of the Hydro Archo–
Furina slams down on that thought before it can bloom. No. No, she's not falling back to that habit. She's not the Hydro Archon. That title died with Focalors, a testament to her sacrifice, and now she's Furina. Just Furina. There're no more roles for her to play.
To prove this to herself, Furina takes another steadying breath. She folds the letter into neat squares, places it delicately into an envelope, and immediately leaves her flat to get it posted. The process is done with little fanfare, and as she slides the envelop into the letterbox, honest and true and written as it is, she feels something in her chest unknot.
…Was this moving forward?
She hoped so.
The days move on, one after the other. Furina leaves her home in bursts of energy, making quick stops to the bakery and the grocery store, forcing herself out of her room even on the days it feels too much. The schedule is slightly monotonous, the croissants from the corner slightly bland, but…she could manage. At least the outside didn't feel as oppressive anymore, the stares not so uncomfortable.
About a week after posting her letter, though, Furina comes home from another routine trip to find an envelope in her doorslot again. Not just that, but a parcel – a cute and delicate confectionary box, adorned with a silken bow and embossed with the logo of the Palais.
Heart skipping a beat, Furina brings both inside and promptly pulls open the ribboned box. Sure enough, there's about a dozen colorful macarons inside – smooth and baked to perfection, the feet pressed light against a creamy ganache filling. The sugary scent makes her mouth water and her eyes prickle all at once.
She picks one up tentatively in one hand, lifting the new letter up to read with the other:
– From the Desk of Iudex Neuvillette of the Palais Mermonia, Fontaine –
Dearest Furina,
It was nice to receive your letter and learn you've been doing alright. Once again, I must apologize for my delay in response – I've yet to make as much headway through the recent workload as I hoped, though you needn't be concerned about me overworking myself. Sedene has been quite conscientious about my taking breaks, and I'm grateful for both your care and her efforts.
As for the macarons, I've requested the Palais chefs to bake some for you considering you've been craving them. Quite a few of them have actually missed cooking for you, from what I could gather – they seemed rather delighted by the request and happy that you're doing well. As for the quality, I sampled a few of them myself and they seem unchanged, though I confess my palate for sweets has never been quite as refined as yours. I hope they will bring you satisfaction, regardless.
I regret to hear of your troubles with adapting with the people, however. Change is a slow-going process, and it might take a while until you see definitive results. Until then, I pray you won't lose faith in either yourself or the nation – I'm sure all of Fontaine will open it's heart to you soon enough.
This is, unfortunately, all I can write for now. As always, I wish you nothing but the best for your future, and hope you continue to do well wherever this life takes you.
Yours truly,
Neuvillette
The letter brings a smile to her lips again, a soft warmth in her chest. She lifts the macaron to her mouth and takes a bite, the familiar sweetness flooding her tongue.
…
…
…hmmmm.
Dearest Neuvillette,
Thank you for the macarons, and please tell the Palais chefs that they haven't lost their touch. They get a pass, for now, but I better not hear of any drop in quality in the future, especially when it comes to feeding our Iudex. He needs the best sweets to do his job, I bet.
I appreciate you sharing your thoughts on the people and change. I admit, it's been easier to get out of the house recently, though working up the courage to face people is still hard. Maybe I should pick up a hobby of sorts, now that I'm no longer a fan of the stage. The macarons you've sent are making me consider giving cooking a shot. Who knows – perhaps I’ll find my true calling from there.
Also, my dearest Neuvillette; do stop apologizing for your delayed responses, lest I get a strongly worded letter from the Marechaussee Phantom accusing me of putting extra stress on the Chief Justice. I get that you're busy, you're running a whole nation. You don't need to be apologetic!
Anyway, that's all I'll be saying this time around, as well. Thanks again for your letter, and I hope all continues to go well on your side too. Toodeloo!
Yours truly,
Furina
And then another week later:
– From the Desk of Iudex Neuvillette of the Palais Mermonia, Fontaine –
Dearest Furina,
I understand you'd prefer I stopped apologizing for any delays in my letters, so I shall refrain from doing so here. I also apologize if my previous letters made you uncomfortable should that be the case. It was never my intention to guilt you.
You also needn't worry about any complaints from the Marechaussee Phantom on my behalf. I've duly informed them that I've been taking my regular breaks, and that trading letters with you is more a pleasure than an obligation. It is no extra work, that I can assure.
As for exploring new hobbies, I believe that's an excellent idea. Though the stages of Fontaine will no doubt be ever slightly poorer for your retirement, I hope you can find joy in whatever new avenue you choose to pursue. Cooking, for one, sounds like a lovely pastime, though I've never partaken in it myself. I'm sure it will go much better for you than for I.
The chefs at the Palais were also quite thrilled about your feedback on the macarons, and pleasantly surprised by your interest to explore the culinary arts. A few of them even offered to give you lessons. If you're interested in taking them up on these classes, do let me know, and I'd be happy to arrange something that works for all parties.
Though I understand your desire to leave the opera house, it seems you have been very dearly missed these past few weeks. Once it became apparent I was trading letters with you, I'd gotten a number of inquiries after your well-being, and a majority of the staff seemed relieved to know you were alright. Should you ever wish to visit, please know you'll be received warmly by all at the Palais Mermonia.
I must return to my duties now. All the best in your future ventures, Furina.
Yours truly,
Neuvillette
…
…
…he just apologized for apologizing. And took her jab involving the Marechaussee Phantom literally. Classic Neuvillette, she should really word these letters better.
Furina smiles into the letter. Her eyes feel prickly again, and she bats at them a bit hurriedly.
…
…missed. How nice.
Maybe she should visit, sometimes. She hopes they'd like Furina as much as Focalors.
There's a few more letters after that. Never about anything too serious, never about anything too down – they talk about frivolity, mainly, and everyday nothings. What's happening on her end, and what's happening on his. It's likely the most pleasant conversation Furina has ever had throughout the past centuries, especially with her Iudex, and she's more thankful for it than she could possibly say. She wonders if it bleeds through her letters. She wonders if Neuvillette can pick up on it; that quiet, unspoken warmth.
Then the Traveler comes by when she's out buying macaroni, with a commission on her mind and a request on their lips, and Furina – despite everything, all the boundaries she's written in stone – can't quite stay away. The troupe she meets pulls at her heartstrings, the four of them writ in familiar tragedy, and she resolves herself to helping them even before she agrees to anything. Their faith in her is slightly terrifying, but she'll manage. It's even kind of…nice.
It's even nicer when their quest brings her to Neuvillette for the first time since she moved out a month ago. He looks more or less the same – graceful and put-together, as always – but his eyes soften when he sees them, and their brief conversation means nothing and everything at once. It's nice to see him outside of the Palais. A part of her was still worried he was drowning in work, but it seems she should have more faith in the Melusines. A break looks good on him.
Then there's the play. And the stage. And the role. Her heart hammers when she steps out in the light, and the notes stream from her throat like a rivulet that never quite dried up. It's terrifying. It's exhilarating. It's a familiar song and dance, a little bit like coming home. She wades into it carefully, the waters warm and comforting, and they welcome her like an embrace. Like the Oceanid from the play, the stage beckons, and she melts into it. Maybe she never quite left. Maybe she missed it more than she thought.
The Hydro Vision appears like a twist ending, and it's a surprise, but she welcomes it, too. She wonders if this is what approval from the gods looks like. She wonders what to feel about it, but she decides – ultimately – that it must be a good thing.
Furina clips the new gem to the bow around her waist, feeling the power of Hydro surge through her, and smiles.
This time, the letter arrives just a few days after the showing of The Little Oceanid. Familiar as always, elegant and perfumed, stamped in the blue wax seal of Fontaine’s Chief Justice:
– From the Desk of Iudex Neuvillette of the Palais Mermonia, Fontaine –
Dearest Furina,
I heard the showing of ‘The Little Oceanid’ a few days ago was a resounding success. Despite your previous reservations about performing again, it seems there's nothing but excitement and positivity regarding your return to the stage, and though I regret not finding the time to personally attend myself, I can still say with confidence that your performance was extraordinary as always. The rest of the troupe has also found their own successes, from what I could see – I estimate nothing but the best awaits them for the future, wherever they may find it.
I also heard you received a Vision at the end of your performance. In accordance to human customs, I believe a ‘congratulations’ is in order. I’m also aware that a celebration is usually the norm, and while I'd like to find the time to celebrate with you, I'm unfortunately rather tied up at the moment. When I get another free slot in my schedule, perhaps we can plan something out if you'd like. In any case, I hope you appreciate the gift. Your determination certainly warrants it.
Though brief, it was also wonderful meeting you again. You seem more comfortable with yourself as of late, and it has been a pleasure knowing you as simply ‘miss’ Furina. Whatever pursuits you chase from here on out, I hope I remain as always your friend.
I wish you well.
Yours truly,
Neuvillette
Furina takes a breath. Her fingers ghost lightly over the polish surface of her Vision, feeling Hydro pulse beneath her skin, and scans his words again. A...'gift'. Huh. That seemed like oddly deliberate phrasing. Did he...? Could he have...? Furina feels something warm blossom in her throat, the Hydro in her reacting in a soft bloom. Well. That's something she should ask about the nice time they met, she supposed.
A…friend. Neuvillette was a friend. Well, of course he was – she doubts they'd be trading letters for this long without being friends. But it's nice to know their relationship is something more than strictly professional, that five hundred years of loneliness has given way to something warm and genuine and achingly true. Not just with him, of course, but so many others – the Traveler. Navia. Those four troupe members, smiling at her like she was someone special, someone loved. Not just as Focalors, not just a God…but just her. Furina, not their Archon but their friend.
She smiles, spreading the letter on her knee.
Then she reaches for the ink again, and starts to write back.