Chapter Text
In Italy, where oranges were most ripe, especially in her family's orchard, she would often hear crickets chirping at night. It annoyed several of her sisters who complained about the noise until Schneider asked if she could switch sleeping positions. No one questioned it and the little girl was often seen sleeping very close to the window. Unlike her sisters, their song lulled Schneider to sleep.
One time when she went to pick an orange, she saw a chorus of them huddled together under one of the trees as if scared of the merciless glares of the sun. She did not know why and before she could inquire her family about their strange behaviour, she found one lying on the ground.
It did not move and she childishly picked it up with curious eyes. It looked ugly in all its dark yellow hues, just as her older sisters described to her. It smelled surprisingly sweet as their blood oranges when she took a sniff. Her father said crickets will bite if aggravated, but it did no such thing to her. It lay motionless. Its legs pointed upward as if reaching for the sky, like it was begging in her palms with no sound.
Innocent little Schneider did not process its demise at that time.
Until much later in her new life in America, she came back home in her black dress stained with blood, and a wad of cash in hand. She did not look her remaining family in the eye and went outside, smiling and telling them through her teeth she needed air.
It was cold that night, cold as the sensation of the gun which still lingered in her shaking hands. She stared at them with empty eyes, her mind wandering into harrowing memories of loaded ammunition and pleading screams followed by a deafening round.
Then she heard it. The familiar sounds of her childhood.
She hastily looked up to find no greenery in her family's backyard. There was only a small shed on that barren soil.
Yet, she could still hear it.
Shivering in fear and out of desperation, she approached the shed in small, cautious steps. Every step could mean utter silence, and she did not want to lose what was left of her childhood.
As she finally reached for the door, she grasped the cold knob in her trembling grasp and slowly opened it. The gap gave way an intense sickly scent of sweetness—
There lay a lonely cricket on the ground, chirping with vigorous vitality, pure yellow hues, and transparent wings, unlike the one she saw back at the orchard.
However, she stared blankly at the sight of its kind. Torn tiny pieces and rotten greenish stains laid on its wake.
Fazed by her sudden appearance, it ceased its song out of fear.
But it did not stop Schneider from approaching it. Slow and careful, she knelt before the frightened creature and laid out her hands to it. There was a smile on her face, but it never reached her eyes.
The cricket's own beady eyes stared back rather intensely.
It understood her unspoken request.
The cricket hopped its way into her palms. Schneider quickly cupped her hands together with tender care and no later than needed, she heard it cry its song once more.
The moon was whole and beautiful that very night. It basked its light through the door of the shed left ajar.
"London bridge is falling down,
falling down,
falling down—"
There it found a lonely girl sitting among decayed insect cadavers, singing along with the last cricket in her tiny hands. Her eyes closed with overflowing tears.
"London bridge is falling down,
My fair lady."
In the hour of darkness, rapid cartridges are fired, and wails of critters die out over bullet wounds. Silence is what follows after, and then concludes with the clicking sounds of heeled boots.
The darkness ceases into the light, unveiling what supposedly are visages of a dark city under a crimson sky into an abandoned dump site. Walking among the dozens of shells and heaps of Dust remains after the massacre was a petite woman. Although dressed in red feathers and enveloped by a thin layered yet oversized black blazer, every step she made was tantalizing. Her white pale skin is barely concealed as she saunters forward with grace and red eyes carry peculiar scrutiny.
A screech, then a small dark spot erects like a sea urchin amid the sea of Dust left by fallen critters. It flails its arms onto the ground in an attempt to move further away from the approaching threat. Be that as it may, it did not go more than an inch due to a punctured wound it currently suffers on its round form. Soon, Schneider reaches out and picks it up with one hand.
The surviving critter caterwauls aggressively. A set of revolting eyes glares at her threateningly.
She simply smiles, raising her free hand. Without a word, a red gun comes into existence. The sight of it leaves the critter shriveling like a cat seeing cucumber. It stops struggling as the brunette points the gun to its mouth, completely silenced as it glumly accepts its awaited fate.
Schneider pays no mind to its gloomy thoughts as she inspects its reddish gums and sharp teeth.
"I was right. This critter is far different from the others."
As she notes its strange oddity, she feels another presence behind her. Schneider does not look back, not seemingly fazed when her name is called.
"What did you find, Schneider?"
She turns in response, a proud smile on her face as she hands the poor critter to a woman much older than her, face framed with longer curly hair and metal braces, and an empty jar in her hands.
"A unique tooth to your collection, Miss Tooth Fairy."
The older arcanist looks at it curiously, placing her jar into her brown leather satchel as she gently takes the creature from the brunette. Unsurprisingly, the critter simply lays limp in her hand with arms floundering like a plush toy. Inserting a gloved finger into its mouth, she lifts its lips to expose its gums and frontal teeth, then extends its jaw wide to check its oral cavity.
"Indeed. This little one has distinctive teeth." Tooth Fairy nods in satisfaction, commenting. "To think you spotted this critter among all the others. I have collected teeth of every critter, but none of them came close to this. I am amazed you can tell the difference."
Schneider hums, her smile suddenly small, as she wipes the drool from her gun with her sleeve.
"As the saying goes, a diamond in the rough."
This keen insight Schneider possesses came in the dire need to form a formidable name for her family in Chicago. A name to protect them from the bloody disputes of warring gangs. You kill and be killed; a law established by many gangsters residing in the merciless city. Unless you want to avoid having a gun pointed at your back, Schneider turned to impecunious immigrants from the Old World who were lost in dark alleys and those who lived in total despair. Immigrants carrying will to survive and defy death. Her fellow kindred spirits.
Like a chorus of crickets under an orchard.
Tooth Fairy merely looks at her. To Schneider, the dental arcanist seems to be contemplating something. Probably how to dismantle the set of critter teeth, Schneider assumed.
She is surprised to hear her suddenly singing.
"Ring a ring of roses
A pocket full of poises--"
Tooth Fairy sings and gently swaying the critter in her free arm, like a mother putting her baby to sleep. As if the intent came through, the small creature naturally dozes off. Its set of beady teary eyes in various sizes, blinking heavily as slumber takes its sad reality to dreamland.
"Atishoo, tishoo
We all fall down--"
The entirety of it reminds Schneider of something else; somewhere in her childhood memories.
A girl in a bloodstained dress singing with a wounded cricket.
"---falling down,
London Bridge is falling down--"
"Schneider."
When did she stop singing? Schneider looks at Tooth Fairy. The woman observes her behaviour, out of concern rather than judging her odd trance, with the critter sleeping away in her arms.
"Yes, Miss Tooth Fairy?"
The dental arcanist remains silent. She is contemplating again, deeply this time. Finally, she speaks her verdict.
"We've been out here for an hour," she roughly estimates, petting the critter's fur. "Based on your performance in combat alone, I suspect that you are feeling well after taking my treatment, which was roughly thirty minutes before we entered the dump site—with just the two of us."
She indicates her last statement as if it is a diagnosis of an odd disease. Schneider doesn't turn away; however, she knows what she is implying as soon as the visage of a stoic face with worried kind eyes and gray feather-like hair.
"Did Vertin do something inappropriate when she handled your UDIMO?"
Schneider could have laughed at the incredulous question.
"No. She did not."
She knows well enough that her lord would do no such thing and may never will physically, due to her incompetence over something like Schneider's teasing advances that may have exposed her poor Lord to heart attacks. However, she attempts to banish the memories of a blank face breaking into hues of red blushes.
The more she sees her Lord, the more she falters in her resolve.
Even Tooth Fairy asks a different question, hitting her hidden turmoil to its very core like a shot in the dark.
"Rather than handling your UDIMO, she never saw it, did she?"
She hit the nail as always. Schneider is not surprised.
Her mind, however, conjures new memories of her Lord once more. False ones and yet, her frowned, repulsed expressions seem so real as if the looks alone can kill her a thousand times.
It should not bother her this much. She cares little about what people see her. Appearances are always something she takes advantage of whenever she wants to hide, to seduce, and to show her authority. And yet—
Like foundations crumbling into debris, her smile drops, and she adverts her gaze with eyes shut tight as if recoiling. Her shoulders droop so low with her arm being held with her free hand. Her other hand still grips the handle of her gun, so tightly that her knuckles could have gone paler than they originally were.
Tooth Fairy seems to take note of this. Without the need for her consent, she places her hand on her shoulder, comforting her.
It is rare to see her this vulnerable. To the arcanist, it is saddening to hear Schneider resigning in defeat, unlike the proud and playful woman she is. But deep down, both of them know it is out of necessity. Schneider always plays her roles to hide her intentions.
When it comes to Vertin, Schneider plays the role of the strong.
Tooth Fairy still remembers that one night. Their first meeting was at her office when Vertin introduced her to the brunette. Her impressions of her were astonishing, to say the least. But undeniably positive when she saw glimpses of Vertin expressing more openly than the last time they saw each other. A rare sight to see other than the girl's impassive face, and it revolves around this particular individual.
"You want me to be your personal doctor?"
Vertin left them both in Tooth Fairy's office to handle different matters at Schneider's insistence. But the dental arcanist could tell that the younger brunette wanted to discuss her own affairs alone with her and both individuals sat on their stools respectively, face to face.
Just by examining her from head to toe and after several diagnoses upon Schneider's approval, Tooth Fairy deduced that her small and thin body proportions were a result of extreme malnourishment and dextrocardia in which she could no longer grow into an ideal proper woman. It was a miracle to even see her in person, alive and strong despite her ill condition and even two years older than Vertin.
Her origins when brought to light only left the dental arcanist reluctant in her medical approach to the brunette's honest request.
"How would you like me to treat you?"
Schneider looked, for the first time since she came into her office, the smile she wore broke. "However you see fit, Miss Tooth Fairy," she responded in visible confusion.
"Although I am touched by your trust, this is a matter of your reassurance."
It did not take a moment to see the dawning revelation on Schneider's face. Her brows furrowed and her fingers curled onto her lips, deep in thought. Then something caught those red eyes which spoke of childish curiosity.
"That jar—"
Tooth Fairy looked to the object in question she was gesturing. The jar lay perfectly still at the corner of her desk. She could see the tooth fairies leaning onto the glass with wonder like an uninvited audience. However, she turned back to her patient; Tooth Fairy recognized another expression when Schneider stared at it. Even though she came back to existence as that of an arcanist, she was still biologically human. In Schneider's eyes, the jar may appear to be empty.
"Before meeting you, My Lord told me about the tooth fairies. Sadly, I can't see them," Schneider confirmed her observations, saved for the title in her statement. "But I can tell they are watching."
It piqued Tooth Fairy's attention to the brunette.
"You can sense them?"
"Indeed, I can." Schneider nodded. "Although I may be one of you right now, even my ancestry is preventing me to gain your sight. I wish I can see them."
"So you preferred our arcanist side."
"No."
Ah, she may have hit a nerve. She could not blame her though. Arcanists are always viewed as strange and irrational to humans. The latter race follows and sees their logical perspective which is the human philosophy of existence, a just life. The former, on the other hand, grasps and immerses in the source of their existence which is Gnosis, the deepest depths of arcanum.
Hence, humans who do not perceive arcanum only view it as madness. And arcanists who do not regard a just life only consider it as dull.
Thus, both races will always oppose the other; a never ending battle between rational and irrational beliefs with no way to reconcile. Making it more difficult for those in-between seeking for their purpose, especially herself.
Tooth Fairy shook her head solemnly, appearing to not be upset with the abrupt protest. She had gotten over past misgivings of her choices. Even if she failed to save someone simply because she could not provide what they would not want, she will never regret in choosing to help people in the end.
"My apologies," Tooth Fairy almost jot it down on medical paper. The ink tip so close to the surface. "I will provide you human medicine--"
"No—forgive me, Miss Tooth Fairy," Schneider politely told her in a firm but reassuring voice.
The pen stopped.
"Pardon?"
"I will make it clear to you. I want to be both."
The silence spoke volumes of Tooth Fairy's reaction.
If there was anything that Tooth Fairy would encounter in her field of expertise, someone challenging her credo was not one of them. Especially if they were once, and biologically still are, human.
She made a simple rule for those with mixed origins; ask which side they lean more. It was a natural way to provide them the right treatment accordingly without violating them incidentally. The majority of her previous patients were inclined towards the arcanist side, but there were also instances where one preferred human treatment.
Yet, right in front of her was a patient brimming with resolution. As if telling her it is her truth. Tooth Fairy found it difficult to believe her but she could tell one thing.
Schneider was neither lying nor deluding herself. Rather than throwing away for another identity, she accepted her humanity as much as she embraced their arcanist origins. And she was telling her this so openly that it revived something long dead in Tooth Fairy's soul.
Was she always like this? Or did she think this way because--
"...What did it feel like to you?"
Tooth Fairy did not need to elaborate what she was implying. The girl was unlike anyone she encountered before. Vertin cared so deeply about her and the dental arcanist could visibly see why.
It prompted her to ask the curiosity that has been nagging her ever since she read her personal files. But she was afraid.
Afraid that her prodding would bring haunting memories.
Much to her surprise and relief, she could see Schneider thinking. She bit her lip, searching for words to describe the feeling. But Tooth Fairy knew that face. Outside of her current field, she had seen it in many other patients whose lives were nearly puffed out.
Lives that were almost close to death's embrace.
And it was sounded through Schneider's quiet whisper.
"Like living and reliving in limbo."
Tooth Fairy tightly gripped the board containing Schneider's medical records. Whether it was anger or distress, she couldn't tell. But to think someone experienced something horrid such as permanent death. Even more revolting was when someone, like Schneider, returned with an oddity that dramatically altered not only their physical bodies but also their mental perception of what they originally viewed as their reality. Any human in those circumstances could be diagnosed with unstable syndromes akin to arcanist's that could lead to severe meltdowns and chances of harming themselves and others.
"Why did you not look for help?"
"You know why."
That rendered Tooth Fairy to pause.
Mesmer Jr. was the first individual that came into her mind. Unfortunately, she would not be of help no matter how gifted she was in psychoanalysis. It still pained her to hear it from Madam Z, about her forced treatment on Vertin when the secretary and said timekeeper came to her office after the rebel incident roused by Vertin's circle.
So the latter option would be Medicine Pocket. They are the best doctor in the Laplace Medical Department. Although trustworthy, Tooth Fairy realized, her current personality was not best suited for the therapy field, and their work was under constant supervision.
Which leaves Tooth Fairy to be the most ideal individual to safely approach. Given her background and career, she is the least suspicious figure with an even lower position in the eyes of the Foundation.
The Foundation was unaware of Schneider's existence. Vertin even begged her to not tell a soul.
The dental arcanist did not want to think about what the Foundation would do if they found out.
"But why me?"
"Because I can trust you."
Schneider, for the first time since she went through her door, looked visibly tired.
Tooth Fairy saw a child who picked up masks, playing roles in a cruel game; a child who lost everything.
Yet, this said child smiled once more. Her smile was precious, bringing back memories of an even younger bairn who came to her office asking for toffees.
Ever since then, Schneider frequently visits her office every night just for a check-up. There are times when Vertin would come along; however, she is often seen a bit low-spirited despite her best to hide it. Frowns rather unconsciously even more whenever Vertin would ask her the next day about Schneider's condition without the individual in question.
Vertin knew Schneider was hiding something but chose not to confront her. The young timekeeper trusts the ex-mafia boss and believes that whatever she has been withholding may be too personal to discuss. She takes her privacy seriously despite her feelings over it.
It only made the dental arcanist more worried than necessary. Her concern was further increased tenfold when Schneider requested to participate in her daily hobbies; collecting unique teeth in which self-defense is inevitable.
The Foundation thought little of how Vertin's group executed the assignment given to them the other day, chalking up to Vertin's strategic mindset for another perfect success, much to the vice president's chagrin.
No, the truth is the assignment was said to be proven more challenging and perhaps a way to weaken the little resolve of the small camarilla. They did not realize a wild card intervened and began contributing in secret. Schneider had been working hard and Tooth Fairy just patched her minor injuries last night. She and Vertin want nothing more but the younger brunette to receive the rest she needs.
Ah, she feels like an anxious mother.
But as soon as she took a good look at Schneider's impressive combat prowess, she noticed she took several long pauses after casting arcanum.
She nearly stepped in when a giant paw almost crushed the girl until the younger brunette jumped away and shot six rounds until it died. Schneider breathed deeply once more, not out of relief as she wiped the visible sweat on her pale face. It dawned on Tooth Fairy now; she missed one crucial piece of information.
Schneider is physically weak.
Not because of her dextrocardia conditions, but because her small body is not fully acclimated to the flow of arcanum inside her. Treat arcanum as a secondary blood but heavier in density. For Schneider whose biology is entirely human, this phenomenon could have been categorised as extreme polycythemia. She is experiencing two different blood flows coursing through her veins and rerouting to thin muscles, all pumping into the dislocated heart while casting incantations; easily tiring her as if she ran a one-hour marathon. If not for the fact there have been no occurrences of severe strokes based on her daily checkups. Shockingly reassuring, but she still needs further medical attention.
She reconsidered bringing this matter up to two people: Medicine Pocket, who would love to have a field day with Schneider's strange biology; and lastly, Vertin.
Maybe that is the problem, Tooth Fairy concluded. That is why Schneider preferred to recover with her medical assistance, even though it is much slower to regain her moxie. Compared to it, an alternative method to quickly recover one's moxie is conversion. A simple arcanum yet it brings more benefits than a meager medicinal drug possibly could. A treatment that only Timekeepers like Vertin can provide anytime when in need.
If she had been relying on Vertin, Schneider would not be in this predicament. She would be able to gain a clear understanding of the arcanum flowing through her system once she converts herself into her UDIMO.
But right now, Tooth Fairy holds the younger brunette's chin up. With no vocal complaints, the dental arcanist checks her oral cavity, making sure she isn't suffering from extra bleeding during her entire onslaught.
She can see it clear as day when she looks over the red dull eyes staring at nothing, unblinking.
"You don't like your UDIMO?"
Tooth Fairy figured it to be the case. Amongst many archaic discussions, an arcanist's UDIMO has been regarded as a symbol representing the arcanists themselves. This statement, however, is entirely a red herring meant to hide the real soul; a soul that carries flowers of attainment but also bears scars of paideia. What the world offers and what it inflicts upon them and how an arcanist lives with it, is the true embodiment of an arcanist's UDIMO. So it is not odd when Tooth Fairy finds herself relating with a plover, her UDIMO, for pecking on crocodiles' teeth despite being in the grasp of a potential threat. It simply follows its stimuli it establishes itself, similar to how Tooth Fairy created her medical doctrine for herself.
But what does that leave with Schneider? If you look at her whole biography at face value, the younger brunette led a harsh life with blood on her hands. It makes sense now, why Schneider insists on getting her treatment instead of Vertin's.
Schneider never converted but somehow, she understands the truth behind the arcanist's philosophy. She knows what UDIMO she will take from. She has been afraid.
When Vertin does look at her fully exposed but also damaged soul, she could have hated her.
Schneider sighs dejectedly in response.
"The last thing I want is me disappointing My Lord."
"If you think Vertin would change her perspective of you over a small thing, you do not know her very well."
There is just something endearing about the face Tooth Fairy makes. If Schneider could remove her braces without the older woman losing her teeth to mischievous and vengeful fey, she would look a lot like Marian. The one sister and family that ever loved her no matter what she became.
"The representation of your UDIMO matters little to Vertin," Tooth Fairy gently assures her, with a knowing smile. "But I know that Vertin will still accept it because it's you."
She suddenly remembered young Marian finding her youngest sister in the same shed that very night. Her embrace is nostalgically warm just as Tooth Fairy hugs Schneider in return. She could hear Marian singing somewhere from afar.
"Schneider?"
The brunette blinks at the neatly stack of papers on the table. Written on top of each paper are Italian words that she knows very well but the majority of the content is also Sicilian dialect. Right at the other side of the table is Sonetto, looking concerned.
"Staiu bonu, Schneider? Just now, you zone out." Sonetto asks, "Do you want me to call Miss Tooth Fairy over?"
"I'm fine," Schneider replies, albeit more forceful than necessary, and internally grimacing at herself when the other girl offers her genuine solicitude. "Ti preoccupi troppu, sciocca fimmina."
Sonetto pauses. Schneider knows the face very well. Whenever Sonetto receives new information, her brows furrow together as if reflecting something pivotal.
"Sciocca fimmina means silly girl." Sonetto mulls over her vocabulary, her Italian accent coming through like a lovely saxophone. Good, and even better, it only took her five seconds to remember. Her top student prestige is not something to laugh at. Nevertheless, Sonetto attempts to speak in their language again with difficulty. "L'haiu... caputu bonu?"
"Sì, you are correct." Schneider smiles with a teasing tone as she playfully ruffles her hair, intending to misplace the cloth around the orange strands. The pouting face from the other, as she readjusts her checkered headband, accomplished her intended goal. She giggles. "But it would seem you fumbled your question. It should be, Ti l'aggiu dittu giustu? Because—"
After her outing with Tooth Fairy, Madam Z dismissed the group the next day to give them a long term vacation. While a little relieved, Schneider was not looking forward to whatever bus the Foundation will throw them under.
When she returned to the suitcase from the dump site, she saw the secretary talking with Vertin who looked concern. Madam Z, on the other hand, had dark bags under her eyes and was nursing a cup of jasmine tea. They both noticed her arrival and the secretary, despite her tiredness, greeted her warmly. The hardships she had to endure just to protect them from amoral authorities.
Schneider was still fuming about the previous assignment. It was a fabricated and suicidal mission meant for Vertin’s group to fail. Neither of them was aware of it, not even Vertin. Schneider was the only one left in the suitcase at that time and was slowly recovering. If it were not for Madam Z secretly seeking for her aid out of urgency, a little late and their small family would have suffered major losses.
Schneider always detests the government her whole life due to their misconduct giving her grievances. Anything that the government promises to the public is nothing but sweet honeyed words. However, people like Madam Z are worthy to respect for their actions and should be the one leading instead. If Madam Z decides to run for presidency, Schneider would vote for her without hesitation.
By the time Vertin told the others the news; Schneider was surprised to see Sonetto coming to her instead of approaching to her Lord.
In all honesty, she had no idea how to treat the other girl. When they first encountered each other, Sonetto saw her as someone she immediately hates; a merciless killer who disregards life. From Schneider's perspective, she saw what made her truly despise the government, a loyal enforcer who is indifferent to true suffering.
But 1929 was a desperate and dying time, and both girls threw away their grudges in their attempt to escape from the Walden. Schneider did not expect the sudden shift in tone when Sonetto gave her the medicine for Marian. At that very moment, she saw who she truly is; an innocent girl who just so happened to be witnessing death for the first time.
Having to share under the same roof every day, their interactions with one another were awkward than intended. Even the orange-haired arcanist had it difficult whenever she tried to initiate a conversation but had no idea what to say. In addition to that, they rarely see each other due to work and Schneider’s presence needed to stay hidden from the eyes of the Foundation.
Who would have thought that the ever loyal soldier of the proud St. Pavlov would assist in hiding a human fugitive, especially when said human was a former terrorist and ex-mafia, and supposed deceased victim of the Storm?
Thinking back on it now, Schneider should have attempted to reconcile. Sonetto was never loyal to the Foundation to begin with.
She is loyal to Vertin.
However, Sonetto may never forgive her for her crimes. Schneider was fine with that. There was nothing she could do to wipe the stains on her hands even if she wanted to. She knew in herself that there was no turning back.
In Italy, she stole a piece of bread because she gave the remaining food to her poor family. In Chicago, she stole a life after one shot on that cold night to survive and continued to do so up until the Storm undid her existence. God is her only witness to them all and He knows well enough that she was never a good person. There is nothing that could hide her ugly sins. What makes her think that she deserved a second chance to live better?
Sonetto’s determined eyes told her the answer. Like Madam Z’s announcement opened a one opportunity of a lifetime, and the arcanist did not hesitate to take it when she made a request.
"I would like to learn more about our culture from you if you don't mind."
Yes, why not try?
In the following days after, the two Italians have been studying new Italian phrases to kill time. Schneider did not want to admit it at first, but she is beginning to enjoy tutoring her fellow Italian. The other girl seems to return the sentiment as she writes and pronounces words with brimming excitement. Conversations with one another were less tense than before, and they would find themselves banter each other with snarky comments and gentle pushes. Schneider even applauded Sonetto for her poetry when the girl attempted to write in Italian verses. The cute blush on her shy face only intensified her desire to tease her.
So this is what it feels like to be a big sister. The thought of little Marian and her child self only made the brunette feel empathetic.
Getting a good look at the younger girl, Sonetto looks like an eager puppy. A far cry from the individual she used to know little of. She still calls her old woman due to the girl being disciplined and professional despite her age. She should try getting the girl to relax more comfortably from now on.
“Prima ca mi scordu, I never thanked you for what you did at court.”
Sonetto stops writing, looks up from her paper in utter shock that it made Schneider giggle at the expression.
“H-How did you know that?”
“Madam Z told me in passing,” Schneider responds, not intending to hide the guilt in her tone whilst she smiles in sincerity.
Her hate for the government had been born from the unjust life her family went through; the exploitation, the violence and the plagues, and the orange orchard wilting under a cold morning. She never forgets it. The government during those dire times never lent their hand to help its people out of poverty. The same way the Chicago office sent her the rejection letter as punishment for being a pauper.
She never felt so much gratitude when someone decided to step forward with the testimony of the staff’s misdeeds as a way to bring justice. Although it does not change the world’s suffering, it is still a fresh start to make the change happen; for a better tomorrow.
“But still; grazzi, Sonettu.”
“C-Certo, pi favuri.,” Sonetto smiles in return. “Anything for a friend.”
That got Schneider to pause. Are they really friends?
“I’m done with this piece,” Sonetto hands her new work to the brunette, oblivious to her musings. “Can you read it for me please?”
Schneider only sees a puppy wagging her tail as if waiting for praise. She chuckles amusedly at the image and takes the paper into her grasp.
What a silly question.
There is one thing Schneider takes into herself and wears it every day like a sacred heirloom; Italians always put their families above themselves. That very nature will always remain no matter which roof you end up under; no matter which family you lived with. It runs in her blood, in Sonetto's blood.
If there is one family that Sonetto will fight for, it is Vertin and their little group of misfits with a sense of overwhelming camaraderie.
Sonetto, despite the Foundation's influence over her, chose to help Vertin and Schneider the best she can. She is a true Italian through and through.
Perhaps, that is what became of her UDIMO; a loyal trained dog but a man’s closest companion by heart.
Schneider, on other hand, had been forever devoted to her family; to her mafia.
To her Lord.
Her smile drops as she hears the distant snick of the willow against the leather in her memory.
Unfortunately, her devotion came with lies and blood, and survival. Her own UDIMO could not hold a candle to Sonetto’s.
“Schneider.”
She blinks. Sonetto has been looking at her worriedly.
“Yes?”
The orange haired girl bit her lip, contemplating. Then she sighs and places down her pen and paper.
“I’ll be direct to the point,” she said, attempting to sport a serious expression with her brows furrowed. How cute. “How long…are you going to keep avoiding Vertin?”
Oh, she is serious.
Schneider barely hides her surprise. “You noticed?”
“..Yes.”
It would seem the ever loyal and considerate puppy has caught on to her acts.
“I…don’t know.”
The response isn't a lie. But Schneider finds herself uncertain if she is really honest.
“I see,” Sonetto frowns. “I’m only asking because Vertin seems upset and… the two of you were pretty close after we got you back.”
Inseparable is what she means.
However, Schneider cannot bring to justify herself nor refute when she already made a pleasant progress with the girl. Why throw away all that effort?
Furthermore, why did she put a distance between herself and her Lord?
She remembers Vertin’s face as the first thing she sees after her Awakening. The same face she woke up to while she was in her arms bleeding at Walden. However, she does not deny what else was there. She saw it back at Druvis’ woods. She saw it again the moment Vertin took her into her embrace ever so tightly.
It was too good to be true.
Vertin moved forward from the scar of 1929, but remained faithful this whole time. And just maybe, she would forever hold her in her heart even if Schneider could never return.
And yet, she did.
Just like that, the pain and joy brought them both closer.
Just recalling all those times when she began avoiding her touch, the sadness and hurt looks she sees on her lovely face only twists the knife further.
“It is not within my intention to hurt My Lord.”
Finally, Schneider bares her deepest fear to someone other than Tooth Fairy.
“I just don’t know if she will still see me the same way.”
Sonetto tilts her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
It seems she would need to elaborate more. That is fine. Schneider does not consider herself forbearing but she knows there is no need to rush.
Her Lord is not in the suitcase at this moment. But her return will be delayed within the day given that she offered herself to help Madam Z with the extra paperwork in her office.
Facing Sonetto, Schneider begins to pull down her walls little by little.
It is almost midnight by the time Vertin returned to the suitcase. She sighs in exhaustion, taking her hat off and placing it on the nearby rack along with her coat.
She hasn't been expecting to meet anyone, thinking that everyone went to bed fast asleep. Except for one.
What greets her there is Schneider in her beautiful dress of red feathers and striking black blazer. The orange blossoms still fresh to her nose, waking Vertin from her stupor to the nostalgia.
“Buonasera," Schneider warmly greets her, surprisingly shy and uncertain. It is unlike her usual bravodo. "Welcome back, My Lord.”
Vertin quickly diminishes her surprise and looks at the clock. It is 11:00 pm.
“Schneider, it’s late,” she glances back at the brunette worryingly. “You can’t sleep?”
She attempts to reach for the brunette’s hand. However, she stops midway, retracting as if she thinks her palm is hot iron that will burn the other’s skin.
Schneider quickly grasps it in her pale hands.
The action and the sensation alone send shivers through her body until Vertin relaxes. Her gray eyes watch the brunette taking her hand against her profile. Those adoring red eyes staring back to her so openly.
Schneider has no intention to let go of her hand which is caressed by soothing digits.
Hesitant and soft; Vertin spreads her palm against the other's cheek, prompting those gorgeous red rubies to be concealed.
With this, Vertin calmly brushes her thumb on the smooth skin. It feels soft in her grasp as Schneider nuzzles deeply in response. A lovely sigh comes through the genuine smile of the brunette.
She has never seen something so lovely just as the woman in front of her.
Schneider suddenly shakes. She begins to sniffle and Vertin freezes at the sound. The brunette still holds her hand in a vice grip as if afraid she will lose it. Tears come through those eyelashes; her face feels wet to the touch.
"I'm sorry."
Vertin often sees Schneider wearing a teasing smile and a flirtatious gaze. A face full of deceit and all knowing. But there is one time when she saw none of it.
Right in this very room they are currently in, Schneider had flown into her arms like a tired pale pigeon during that supper. She was smiling when she confessed her sin. But her reddish eyes told her another truth remained hidden; she was in pain.
"I'm so sorry, My Lord."
She sees those same pained teary eyes again. This time, Schneider isn't smiling.
She is truly weeping in her hold.
In that moment, nothing matters to Vertin. Whether her apology involves with her avoidance in the previous days or her harsh rejection to Vertin's offer of comfort, Vertin finds it little to care. Not when her bride, the one who left a mark in the depths of her soul, pours out her anguish heart bare to her.
Not her.
Vertin slowly brings up her other hand against the exposed cheek, causing the other to look at her directly. She asks silently for her.
Those red eyes stare back at her.
Please.
Vertin locks lips with hers. The same way she did when Schneider came back to her life. So small and pale just as the nightmare she often sees with closed eyes, yet so solid and real in her arms.
Like a dream becoming a miracle.
She feels the other's hands let go and the weight of thin arms on her shoulders, wrapping around her neck. Fingers tickling her scalp as they thread through her grayish hair. Vertin slowly bundles the petite body into her embrace, massaging the brunette's back in soothing circles and their kiss futher deepens. Slow and so tender.
When they finally parted after an eternity, it is when Vertin kisses Schneider's salty tears, her facial features, and back to her lips that still mutter needless apologies. It's okay, Vertin reassures her in each kiss. I'm not angry. I don't hate you for what you did.
I still love you.
And every kiss has been reciprocated by Schneider.
I love you too.
When Schneider snuggles into her neck, Vertin does the same. Her petite frame feels incredibly small against her body. The nostalgic scent of oranges wafting through her nose and she breathes it into her lungs like it is her air.
For the first time since they have been apart, they settle in peace with each other once more.
Sonetto coughed.
However, Schneider could see her failed attempt to hide a chuckle. Rather than confused, it hurt and angered her a little bit. But Schneider did her best not to snap right then and there.
"What's so funny?"
The other girl, realizing she was caught, looked at her apologetically. But her eyes were telling a different story as if reassuring her.
"Forgive me for being blunt but I didn't expect you to be this..." The girl gestured to her entire figure. "..self conscious."
"..."
Schneider could neither respond nor deny that implication.
She felt her cheeks turning red as she practically swiped at a giggling Sonetto with a piece of paper; more out of embarrassment instead of being mad. She had just shared her darkest secret and now they were talking about what was in her wardrobe. She might as well be the only daring woman in their circle to ever own risqué attires.
However, she could be lying if the tease isn't what she needed.
Sonetto cleared her throat. "Honestly, I think your worries are unfounded."
"What?"
"You may not know this," Sonetto continued, reminiscing a time when a frog in tiny eager hands was shown to her. Those same hands held the creature gently as if it was precious. "But Vertin does treasure small things."
"Also, she never even cared about whether you're a human or an arcanist. Have you forgotten about that?"
Schneider felt the immense guilt gnawing at her heart on the right. Looking back, maybe she did.
Sonetto gently took Schneider's hands into her own. If she noticed how clammy and cold they were, she did not comment. Instead, she rubs her thumbs gently against the pale skin.
"So, believe me when I say that Vertin will never see you anything different," she smiled sincerely.
"And I believe you could be the prettiest cricket in the world."
It had been so long since Schneider could cry like that. She believed it to be lost in all of her masks the longer she spent her days as the infamous mafia boss.
But right now, she is no longer in Chicago and neither she is still a mafia boss.
She is in a bedroom surrounded by filled bookshelves, consisting of a spare drawer desk with trinkets and tools, and paper and ink pen on top; and a potted plant next to a large window near the bed she currently sits. She can see the full moon in the Wilderness' sky.
Despite knowing it is entirely made of arcanum, Schneider could not help but see it as the real thing.
She feels a familiar presence enter her peripheral and she turns to see Vertin coming in with a glass of water in hand.
Although Schneider stopped crying shortly, Vertin has been nothing but patient and considerate to her needs. The brunette had taken off her blazer but she found it comforting when the grey haired girl wrapped her small exposed form with her blanket.
Schneider thanks her gratefully as she takes the glass. She drinks the soothing cold liquid in slow sips as Vertin sits closer to her.
She sighs in relief after emptying the contents, letting Vertin take the glass from her grasp and places it on the desk next to the scattered trinkets.
None of them said a word, especially Vertin who has been responding to Schneider's unremitting apologies through soft touches and warm kisses.
Perhaps words aren't necessary to begin with. Schneider takes the girl's hand into hers.
Under the moonlight through the glass panel, Vertin looks so ethereal in all of its radiance like a living fantasy from a storybook. In place of her stoic expression she usually sported, is a smile filled with earnest patience and love.
Love that will never fade even when Schneider passes on.
The brunette decides right there and then, when words failed to express her true inner feelings to the one she holds dear, a simple request is the first step forward.
"Please convert me, My Lord."
She sees the shift of emotions in those gray eyes she adores; nonplussed at first and then pondering until finally, understanding.
Vertin nods to her entreaty.
Schneider turns to the mirror not so far away from their seating position.
She sees herself in the reflection. And for the first time, her smile has reached her dried eyes.
The brunette feels her body floating in an invisible water. Her whole figure is almost covered by balls of light, and once more, she lets it embrace her.
Schneider remembers seeing crickets in her childhood. Ones that died terribly, and ones that survived narrowly.
A cricket's lifespan is shorter than a human's. But even a human life is unfortunately fleeting. Such lifeforms struggle to survive in a cruel world. Try as they might, they will always end up dead nonetheless. Only one left standing, surrounded by bloody corpses of their fellow kin on that same cold night, lived in hell for another day.
So, Schneider finds it poetic when she sees what became of her reflection; in the form of a gloomy yellow cricket with transparent wings. Just like the one she found in her family's shed. Despite the pleasing lighter tones of the exoskeleton, it looks ugly.
She feels particularly smaller when Vertin is hovering next to her. However, she finds herself overwhelmed when Vertin opens her hands before her now diminutive figure. Reluctant at first, she hops onto her soft palms as the girl lifts her UDIMO closer to her face. Curious gaze viewing at every fiber and detail as Vertin traces with her fingers from her appendages to her wings. The touch carries so much gentleness that Schneider might pass out.
This is different. The look on her face is even peculiar. It is not an ambivalent and disgust look she expects to see. Her smile is still there but her eyes seem to sparkle to life once more. Schneider wonders at how her lord easily marvels at something so hideous.
"And I believe you could be the prettiest cricket in the world."
"But I know that Vertin will still accept it because it's you."
Perhaps there is some truth to their words. The cricket UDIMO chirps, sounding more disappointed with herself instead of relieved. She had been worried over nothing.
But that does not mean she isn't disquieted by the girl's contemplation. She seemed to be pondering over something but she could not tell what was going through her lord's head. Schneider could have found it adorable if she had not felt so self-aware of her current appearance.
Maledetta 'sta vecchia.
She has been cursing in her mind, her guard lowered, that she does not notice the shift in movement from the gray-haired girl. Out of nowhere, Vertin leans in and places her lips on her tiny head.
The action alone shatters her frantic state of reality like she woke up from a long-lasting nightmare. Schneider abruptly chirps in shock.
Oh mio Diu, chi a so menti sana avissi a baciari un insettu?!
Vertin's smug and bonafide grin, however, seems to say so otherwise; she already knew what came through her mind. The act was intentional. Having sensed the foreboding feeling a little too late, Vertin has already begun peppering kisses all over her cricket form to gauge a reaction. The chirping intensifies to a great extent as frontal wings hit the lips and nose of the girl in exasperation, making her laugh at the ticklish sensations.
How could you act like that and not puke?!
"I can't help it. You look so gorgeous." She says this with indifferent impulsiveness and condor like it is natural for her. It only makes Schneider increasingly smitten and buggy all at once.
It does not help when the girl starts to tenderly pet her more than she intends to. Schneider physically feels like her body is on fire but cozy against the careful digits. Maybe this is how she will die the second time but at the mercy of her lord's hands. Not that she would complain. Vertin's expression is tender when she softly whispers to her.
"Even red suits you in this form."
"..."
She never thought that being in this position with an even minuscule body could make her feel extremely impetuous. It hits Schneider with an epiphany that the tables had turned after she converted; where Vertin is the skittish one and Schneider is the one having a stroke. Her cacophony of chirps is so loud that she is worried it could irritate her lord.
"I find your sound pleasant," Vertin reassures her. Smooth and gradual as she leans her nose to the tiny head. Her frontal wing gently taps. The UDIMO feels her warm breath around her, almost like she is touching clouds.
"I love it when you sing."
Schneider wonders if she still smells the same as her original body. Up close, she can see the freckles that scatter across the bridge of her nose like stars. She watches those dreamy moon eyes seal shut and hears her deep breathing. No, she realized; a single live cricket doesn't smell nice. Dead ones do but the scent is fleeting when left to rot. Vertin could be smelling nothing or something pungent.
But her lord does not retreat. She remains still in her steadfast display of affection and acceptance; her lips smiling more as she takes it all in. Schneider's beady eyes start to tear.
Heeding the silent request, she cries, the same way as the surviving cricket did that one night. But tonight is different, and she sings for her lord out of joy; out of love.
The full moon has never been so majestic.