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Wriothesley could feel his eyebrows rise as soon as the words clicked in his brain. The moment rewinds again and again and again in his head, until he thinks the words that float between the space that separates him and the man who called for him have finally sunken down into his baffled mind. It still felt like he hadn’t even processed them one bit. Can you blame him though? Not when—
“You want me,” Wriothesley starts slowly, as if words dragged his tongue down, weighed down with skepticism, “to accompany you… to Inazuma?”
Across the table, Neuvillette nods. His hand moves to close the report on the desk, revealing the cover embellished with melusine stickers, before putting it aside. Then, he reaches for one of his drawers under his desk, judging from the sound of a drawer sliding open, and brings up an envelope. It’s a simple one, the flap already detached from the envelope, showing that it has already been opened and read by Neuvillette. There are small, barely-visible red smudges on the surface and on the tip of the flap. Remnants left behind by a wax seal that used to seal the envelope shut.
“Two months ago, two important figures from Inazuma came to Fontaine with the purpose of initiating a cultural exchange between the two nations. Since you were more or less involved in the arrest of two convicts during the Fontinalia Festival, I’m sure you are aware of that little tidbit.”
Wriothesley merely hums in response as he takes the envelope from Neuvillette’s hand.
Chevreuse had shared this information when she was visiting Meropide. It took him by surprise to learn that she had willingly joined Lady Furina’s little filming crew as a stunt choreographer and later on, an actress along with one of the visitors from Inazuma. He didn’t think she had it in her to brush on the performing arts but the results of the Film Festival proved him absolutely wrong.
He peeks inside the envelope and finds a slightly thicker paper tinted in the lightest shade of blue. He doesn’t fish the paper out. The envelope is all the proof he needs.
Neuvillette explains further: “That is a formal invitation sent by the Yashiro Commissioner and Head of the Kamisato clan, Kamisato Ayato. It is said that a festival will take place next week and has invited Miss Furina and I to the festival—Furina as a request from his sister while I as a diplomat representing Fontaine. The letter also mentioned that, should we choose to do so, we could bring one or two people as company.”
From Wriothesley’s peripheral vision, just above the envelope raised in front of his face, eyes flit from the paper to him, watching him for a silent moment. A subtle movement that catches Wriothesley’s attention quite easily it feels embarrassing to admit. The look feels assessing yet hesitant. Seemingly scanning for something on his face — his reaction, most likely — but reluctant to read it for what it is.
Wriothesley hums, his face carefully detached from emotions. Or, at least he hopes it is.
“And you decided to invite me? And not Sigewinne?”
Neuvillette looks defensive at the accusation. “I did ask her to come along and yet she rejected the offer. I’m uncertain as to why she did so but I cannot force her if she wishes not to go and chose to respect that, however disappointed it made me feel.”
“So the next best choice would be me then?”
“... I do not know if I should feel insulted at the implication that you think I ask you of this because I have no other choice or because you think I see you as a second choice. Regardless of how you interpret my invitation, I’d like to think I would still extend the invitation to you and come along with me.”
It's strange to witness the man before him alternate between tightening and loosening the hold of his fingers, as if he was trying to relieve the tension between them. The action was unnoticeable thanks to the darkness of his gloves serving as a great camouflage under the light, but Wriothesley’s eyes are sharp; a flicker of movement can be easily caught by his observant gaze. If he didn't know any better, he would think Neuvillette seemed nervous to learn his answer.
But he does know Neuvillette better — more than anyone else, and his mind tells him that he looks tense.
Huh.
Does his answer value that much to Neuvillette?
“Well, I wasn't expecting an invitation for a trip across the seas from you .” Wriothesley chuckles. He flicks his wrist with a snap. The envelope slips off his fingers and twirls in the air to Neuvillette, who catches it with ease. “I must say, it's a pleasant surprise.”
The edges of Neuvillette’s eyes crinkle as a smile born with a hint of relief stretches on his lips, making him appear soft when he stares at Wriothesley. “You desired a vacation too, did you not? I recall you wrote about yearning for one in a couple of our personal correspondence. When I received the invitation, admittedly, I thought of you first, more than anyone else. And with this trip being a diplomatic one, there will be decisions even I can’t decide on my own, and I trust your insights more than you think.”
Wriothesley could feel his eyes widen at the declaration. His heart skips a beat or two, and words fail to make it past his mouth, clogging his throat to the point he forgets to breathe .
It’s one thing to think that the Neuvillette — the Chief Justice, the Iudex of Fontaine — had trusted him enough in the choices he had to make for himself, the decisions he had to choose for the sake of what is right as a ruler of a no man’s land and a person with a decent moral compass, and the words he deliberately speaks with or without intention, it’s another to hear it directly from the man himself. Solidifying a long-held belief — an idea that Wriothesley chooses not to indulge when it’s not right to speak for someone — into something tangible.
“Ah,” he answers, rather lamely. Neuvillette, on his part, gives him a patient look, as if he knows that Wriothesley is struggling to form a response. He pinches the skin on his forearm that his wrappings fail to cover up. “Now that you say that, I can't help but feel like I should accept the invitation—”
When Neuvillette’s expression withers, Wriothesley quickly scrambles to correct himself. “—not that I wouldn't accept your invitation beforehand! I already made my decision the moment the envelope landed in my hand.” Feeling a bit of shame bubbling for choosing to tease during what Neuvillette perceives as a serious manner, Wriothesley scratches the back of his neck then waves it vaguely at the desk where the envelope now sits.
“What I meant to say is: yes, I will gladly accompany you and Miss Furina to Inazuma.”
And if Neuvillette’s private smile — similar to the one earlier, only this time it's wider, a peek of pearly white teeth between his lips, his eyes soft, almost disappearing into tiny crescents — made his heart go aflutter, the room seemingly brighter under the kaleidoscopic shades of blue and teal, and the air lighter and easier to breathe, like a breeze blowing from the ocean, then no one but Wriothesley needs to know.
»»—— ❦ ——««
Inazuma has some of the most picturesque views that are unique to the nation. Unlike the abundance of vibrant greens, teal blues, and floral-embellished landscapes of Fontaine, the land of Inazuma is dyed in light pinks and deep purples; sometimes in deep reds and mellow emerald. Built on by simple-structured oriental houses, tiny shrines, statues, and statuettes, and a single pagoda building looming in the distance, situated at the heart of Narukami Island, it is certainly charming in its unique way.
The air is a little fresher, not polluted by the stench of oil and metal (unlike Meropide) but carries the scent of sakura blossoms, light and delicate. This, however, is contrasted by the lingering sharpness or crispness with each blow of the breeze, albeit it is not overwhelming—just a little tingle on the nose that can easily be brushed off once you get used to it. It startled Wriothesley the closer they hit the docks, like a bolt of lightning had suddenly zapped his nose. Judging by the slight crease on Neuvillette’s eyebrows and Furina rubbing her nose with the back of her finger, they were taken back by it too.
Maybe it’s the remnants of the Electro Archon’s power she couldn’t contain? Based on his research, it wasn’t long ago that the incessant storms that rampaged the seas between Inazuma and the rest of the nations suddenly vanished into thin air after the Sakoku Decree was abolished. Perhaps it’s the after-effect of the storms.
Fitting for the land of eternity.
Wriothesley lifts the kamera to his face, peeks into the viewfinder, and aims it at the two mountains in distance glowing golden under the sunset. He twists the lens to zoom in on the peaks, moves the kamera an inch towards his right, and snaps a photo.
That is Mount Yougou, his mind supplies, voice eerily similar to the Kamisato siblings’ retainer. Thoma, was it? It’s where the Grand Narukami Shrine sits, guarding the Sacred Sakura Tree. Legends say that the Sacred Sakura cleanses the land of its impurities with the help of the Thunder Sakuras scattered across Inazuma! Pretty cool, right?
And if he is being honest, that tidbit did intrigue him enough to ignite the want to go there. Maybe he should ask Neuvillette if they could visit the mountains. Sigewinne would’ve loved to see them in person; it’s quite unfortunate that she decided not to join the trip.
Speaking of which, after Wriothesley dismissed himself from the Palais and arrived at the Fortress, his first priority was finding Sigewinne. Which wasn’t a difficult task as she made it a habit to stay in his office whenever he visits the overworld. He entered the room only to be greeted by the scent of earl gray tea and freshly-baked sweets wafting the air, drawing a soft growl from his stomach and a fond smile on Wriothesley’s face.
He has asked her why she rejected the invitation, even though Sigewinne looked excited when she shared about her recent letters with Neuvillette, only for her to giggle and then say they both deserve to spend a joint vacation together — or what she called a ‘festival date’.
( “A diplomatic and cultural exchange,” Wriothesley emphasized with a twitching brow and a particularly sharp thud of the nib hitting the desk. It left a small dot on the paper. He recognized it vaguely as a report to be sent to the Maison Gestion but frankly, he did not care, his irritation winning over. “It is, technically, still work. And Miss Furina will be joining us during the trip, possibly bringing someone along with her, so clearly this trip isn’t just for the two of us.”
Sigewinne, bless her heart and soul that he loves dearly, decided to ignore everything he said and swooned, legs giddily kicking air from where she’s sitting: on the plush red cushion of his couch. “A festival date with Monsieur Neuvillette… Your Grace, you must feel really happy inside! I know you are!”
Wriothesley pointedly kept his mouth shut, already continuing on finalizing the report and tuning out the gushing in the background. He ignored the heat rising on his cheeks. )
What Sigewinne said, however, is true. Both he and Neuvillette are never ones to indulge in the prospect of a vacation as they are important figures laid down with burdensome responsibilities but he agrees that maybe they do deserve a breather, away from the politics and governance and duty and the weight placed on their shoulders as co-guardians of Fontaine’s overworld and underworld as he likes to call them. A little break wouldn’t hurt, much less one offered by Monsieur Neuvillette like a shining golden ticket.
Even if this break involves going to another nation for diplomatic and cultural purposes.
So here he is, in Inazuma with Neuvillette, Miss Furina, and Lumine, the person Miss Furina decided to invite along. Furina and Lumine are somewhere in the city, accompanied by Kamisato Ayaka. Probably giving Furina a tour around the small island. The head of the Kamisato Clan, meanwhile, called Neuvillette over for a chat, leaving Wriothesley to his lonesome.
He is not one for diplomacy though he wouldn’t say he isn’t knowledgeable about it. Just enough to get him by but definitely not on the same level as the Chief Justice.
The wind blows nipping bites on his pale skin as Wriothesley lowers the kamera on his lap. Pinched between his fingers is a film that captured the peaks of Mount Yougou in all its glory, graced in clouds of pink and purple, illuminated by a beam of soft blue light on the summit of the taller mountain. All bathed under the glow of the setting sun just by the horizon.
Wriothesley smiles, quite satisfied with the photo he captured for Sigewinne. He puts it in the kamera case where the rest of the photos are being kept.
Sakura petals fall gently like snow, floral scent wafting through the breeze, and the beautiful sight they make steals Wriothesley’s breath away. He lifts a hand to catch two petals that are slowly falling towards him. They’re soft, fragile in his palm etched with calluses and thin lines of scars. Wriothesley’s hold remains gentle while his unoccupied hand fishes a small handkerchief from his pocket.
He remembers Lumine doing the same thing before, only with unfamiliar white flowers not local to either Inazuma or Fontaine rather than the sakura petals resting on his hand. The process of folding the cloth was delicate and careful, cautious for a single wrong move could ruin the beautiful specimen. Wriothesley never asked her the reason behind such action, why she keeps this particular flower protected by a measly piece of cloth but she told him anyway when he was caught staring during one of their spontaneous trips around Fontaine, the stars twinkling above their heads.
“I like to preserve them,”
she’d explained, voice soft yet crystal clear in Wriothesley’s ear, genuine affection lacing each word like sweet syrup.
“Even though these flowers are common around the mountainous parts of Liyue, this one in particular is… special.”
Golden eyes turned to the shore before them, fogged with a kaleidoscope of emotions, longing resonating the strongest. They gaze at the shimmering waters but see something different. Something faraway, out of their reach. Somewhere where gold shines like the sun and mountains roll like waves on the ocean.
“This Qingxin was given to someone I hold dear in my heart.”
“So this is where you are.”
Wriothesley startles, snapping his head up at the source of the sound. His wide eyes meet peculiar lilac ones shimmering with an emotion he couldn’t put a name on, or rather, he’s unsure if the answer is right. In the blink of an eye, that emotion disappears, leaving behind an assessing gaze directed somewhere above his head.
Strands of white and blue fall gracefully from the rest tied in a bun like waterfalls, curling over the apple of his cheek and framing his face in a delicate manner.
The man’s hand twitches, then lifts itself up to move towards… his head?
He braces himself on the ground for what Neuvillette is about to do.
The hand brushes on his ebony hair, a touch that lingers longer than it should. This has Wriothesley tipping his head a little to his right, towards the palm that’s uncharacteristically bare. No gloves covering pale hands, which is strange to look at. Wriothesley has never seen Neuvillette without his gloves on.
The hand moves, carding through his hair, caressing them with a gentleness that drains the tension out of Wriothesley, leaving him pliant against the touch. His lids flutter shut for a brief moment as he exhales a shaky breath before opening them again to stare at Neuvillette.
The man’s eyes are glazed over, his mouth slightly gaping, looking at Wriothesley but not seeing him.
Wait—
Wriothesley snaps out of the haze that had wrapped around them out of the blue and immediately reaches out to grasp Neuvillette’s wrist, giving it a little squeeze. Neuvillette blinks, and the haze in his eyes clears up.
He’s… not sure what to make of that moment. It was strange, out of the blue. A spur of a moment that Neuvillette had not realized he created, but it sure was something that did multiple things to his heart . He didn’t even know he was that touch-starved until Neuvillette had started touching him, which is honestly embarrassing and a little sad. To think he had to find out through Neuvillette petting his hair like he’s petting a docile dog.
“Neuvillette? Is something wrong?”
Wriothesley watches as Neuvillette opens his mouth, closes it again, then opens up to speak. “My apologies. There was a petal stuck on your hair.”
And sure enough, when Wriothesley releases his wrist and Neuvillette withdraws his hold, there’s a petal pinched between his fingers. All that petting for a single petal ?
“Ah, thanks for that.”
Neuvillette nods before releasing the petal into the air. The petal dances with the breeze until it disappears from his peripheral vision.
Whatever expression he’s wearing, Wriothesley smooths it down in favor of grinning ear to ear at Neuvillette as he leans back, the hand on the ground supporting his weight. “So, already finished with the exchange, Monsieur Neuvillette? You must miss me so much that you rushed after your conversation to find me here.”
Neuvillette huffs, exasperated yet endeared. “On the contrary, I think it’s quite the opposite. Do you miss me, Your Grace? I did leave you to your lonesome for quite some time. I apologize for taking too long. Although, I do wonder why you’re here instead of roaming around looking at the stalls.”
Words fail to leave Wriothesley’s throat. His jaw drops and he stares wide-eyed at Neuvillette. There’s no way Neuvillette actually said that, right? His right hand itches to slap his cheeks in an attempt to snap him out of this— this daydream. Too many unexpected occurrences have happened in the span of two weeks, let alone a day .
“You…” He couldn’t help the boisterous laugh escaping his lips rather than the words he intended to say, not when reality finally sinks in and
Neuvillette definitely said that, oh my archons, I’m not dreaming.
“I did not expect such words from Monsieur! Don’t worry about taking your time, I was relieving my boredom by taking photos.” Wriothesley waves the kamera in his hand at Neuvillette. “Thought they would be a great gift for Sigewinne when we get back.”
Neuvillette gives him a smile, subtle but genuine, and it warms Wriothesley’s heart. His smiles will always be one of his favorites. Several things he considers his favorite actually revolve around Neuvillette, now that he thinks about it, like the color blue, the scent of rainwater and petrichor, the serpent dragon etched on a blue waxed seal, or Neuvillette’s special Consommé that he prepared for Sigewinne that one time she got sick.
“Sigewinne will be most delighted when we return. We should invite her for tea sometime and recount important events of our trip. She enjoys a good story, and I heard that you’re a great storyteller.”
Almost-draconic eyes sparkle with intrigue.
Heat creeps up his nape despite the pleasure of being praised tickling his veins. Sigewinne talks too much about him to Neuvillette it seems. Hopefully the heat on his neck is not visible to Neuvillette.
“If it is a good story you want to hear, I doubt I could wow you with my skill, seeing as you are more eloquent than I am.” Wriothesley stands up from the patch of grass, patting his pants for stray blades of grass and a couple of sakura petals that have landed on his lap. Neuvillette leans forward and helps in getting rid of the rest, which Wriothesley mutters a little ‘thanks’ for. He carefully tucks the kamera in its case, making sure not to crumple or fold the photos inside. “Besides, I feel a little rusty. It’s been a while since I’ve shared one since there’s not much to tell to begin with.”
As the Warden of the Fortress, Wriothesley barely has the chance to explore above the surface to begin with. Most of the accounts he had shared with some of the children and melusines who visit Meropide are first-hand experiences embellished with a little flare and creativity that leaves one to their imagination, covering up the nitty and gritty details that he finds too dark for his audience to grasp or endure. Only Sigewinne was able to read between the lines, giving him sorrowful looks when Wriothesley adds unrealistic situations to his story that hides a kernel of truth. Not pity, which he is silently thankful for. He doesn’t take pity lightly,
“Then the trip back will be a good practice. Eloquence is not a criteria I search for when it comes to stories; it is the heartfelt, raw emotions poured in every word, creative descriptions that could paint a whole world in my mind, and the passion that resonates in every intonation, showing that you are not telling the story for the sake of it but because you enjoy the art of storytelling. That is something I yearn for in a story.” Neuvillette inhales, exhales, then looks at Wriothesley, that same unknown emotion from before rushing back again, hitting Wriothesley with the full force of it. “And from what I’ve heard from Sigewinne, you are all I search for in a storyteller. So, I await your stories when we embark on our trip back to Fontaine. I'll be looking forward to it.”
Silence stretches between them as Wriothesley’s and Neuvillette's eyes meet, pale frosty orbs gazing into iridescent draconic eyes, searching for… something. Wriothesley's not sure. Searching for a deeper, hidden meaning behind those words perhaps? Fueled by that lingering spark of hope that his feelings are actually reciprocated by this orphic being who has been a constant presence for a large portion of his life as Wriothesley? Dammit, this feeling of uncertainty only takes hold when he’s around Neuvillette, and if there’s one thing Wriothesley dislikes, it’s the feeling of being uncertain .
And how Neuvillette says all of it. A confession. It sounds too much like a confession.
Or he's being delusional and too hopelessly in love.
The tension breaks when Neuvillette clears his throat behind a fist, averting his eyes to the ground below them. The apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears are dusted pink, and Wriothesley gapes at that in awe.
He has never seen Neuvillette with this expression before.
“Ah, I just remembered that you didn’t answer my question earlier. Why are you here instead of perusing at the stalls?”
“I was waiting for you,” Wriothesley says. “I didn’t want to leave you alone while I’m having fun so I decided to take photos and wait until you finish your chat with Monsieur Kamisato.”
Neuvillette smiles, touched by his decision. “It was a brief chat that did not concern any diplomacy or cultural exchanges, so now we stay as Wriothesley and Neuvillette instead of the revered Duke of Meropide and Iudex of Fontaine. I'm free to roam around as I please.” He gestures towards the open streets. “Let's head to the stalls. There are certain items I am curious about.”
The conversations in between were short, but Wriothesley finds switching topics with Neuvillette as effortless as usual. He still can’t fathom how Paimon finds it difficult to converse with the Neuvillette when conversations flow like a gentle flowing stream. Then again, from what he had understood (and what he had witnessed in his trips with Lumine and the others), Paimon is never one to speak about topics she’s unsure of, sometimes going off tangents to avoid them, and it’s difficult for her to follow up with another topic when the situation turns awkward, unlike the Traveler, who switches topics seamlessly, never running out of things to discuss for someone who is usually the quieter of the two.
Then again, Lumine is as observant as she is sharp, and keeping her silence meant she could prod and watch as she wishes while putting up her aloof facade.
The short trip to the stalls is peaceful. Unlike Fontaine, the citizens of Inazuma only mind their own business, as if the pair are not two important visitors but rather just ordinary tourists willing to spend their time together in their nation. Sure, they receive curious stares from others, but they only stay curious and never probing. It was refreshing, to not be looked up to as a highly authoritative figure — with reverence and awe and thinly-veiled fear — or stared at like meddling fingers trying to pry him open of secrets hidden beneath his flesh.
Not much is going on in the tiny island where the stalls are situated, what with the festival being held in the main city (he doesn't get why the stalls are far away from the actual event. Whoever is in charge of event management must be a little stupid. Then again, it's not like the locals are complaining so he keeps that thought to himself). Nevertheless, Wriothesley feels drawn to the various trinkets and local snacks displayed in each stall.
There's a stall that sells masks of various designs, formed as different heads of what the vendor calls “youkai”, supernatural spirits dwelling in Inazuma much similar to Liyue's illuminated beasts and Fontaine’s nymphs. Another displays a collection of meat and seafood skewered by sticks, the delicious and crispy scent wafting through the air, drawing the attention of empty stomachs. Across that is a cart full of… apples? Upon closer inspection, they look like apples but they appear glazed under the glow of the lantern. Children in particular loved that stall, flocking around it with awed grins and loud cheers when they received the sugary snack.
Beside him, Neuvillette chuckled at the sight. The man really has a soft spot for children.
The one both men are currently intrigued in is a stall full of ornate jewelries and hairpieces located right under a sakura blossom. One particular hairpin catches Wriothesley’s eye. It's a golden hairpin adorned with jeweled forget-me-nots gathered at the tip in a ball with a few trailing down a golden chain. He picks it up, scrutinizes it under his icy gaze, and twirls it between his fingers. Underneath the golden glow of the paper lantern, the flowers shine iridescent, a kaleidoscope of colors reflecting each petal, and it looks gorgeous. This, Wriothesley silently muses, will fit him beautifully.
“My, what fine gentlemen have visited my stall at this hour and day! The gods certainly have blessed me.”
Amused, because the gods certainly have blessed this lovely shop, Wriothesley looks away from the pin and meets the eyes of a woman who looked to be in her 40s though her appearance made her appear a bit older, few white strands peek between chocolate locks and the slight crease of crow's feet appearing at the side of her eyes when she smiles. Beside him, Neuvillette’s expression sours slightly.
“Maybe they do, madam.” Wriothesley grins, tone dripping with honeyed amusement as he glances at the man beside him for a brief moment, and predictably, Neuvillette noticed, if that small scowl aimed at him is anything to go by. “Your wares certainly are eye-catching.”
The woman puts a hand on her chest. “To hear such words from Kamisato-san's esteemed guest fills my heart with pride. All of the jewelry displayed here are forged and handcrafted by my husband and I, while the hair ornaments are the work of my daughter and son, though they're not here in Inazuma. Currently, they've gone to Liyue to learn more about the art of jewelsmith.”
Wriothesley whistles, impressed. “They are handcrafted by professionals, that's for sure. Word seems to spread faster than I thought if you knew our identities the moment you laid eyes on us.”
The woman giggles. “Other than your unique appearances and the grapevines crawling all over the city, most of us can recognize the craft of the Kamisatos’ beloved retainer.” She points at the side of her head, where the masks are positioned on Wriothesley’s and Neuvillette’s heads. “He has a particular style that echoes his hometown in the way he paints and carves them. The lady accompanying the Traveler and Kamisato-sama earlier also donned the same style of mask.”
Ah, that must be Miss Furina, Lumine and Ayaka. Those ladies sure are fast on their feet.
“And where are they now?” Neuvillette, who has been looking through the rest of the jewelry and vaguely listening to the conversation in silence, suddenly speaks up.
The stall owner curls a finger on her chin, humming contemplatively. “I think they left quite quickly when they realized it's nearing dusk. Something about heading back to the Naganohara shop. They're probably fetching Yoimiya-chan.”
Wriothesley has heard of that name somewhere, first in Fontaine, from Chevreuse's report as the woman who helped her capture Morris and Veronique, and in Inazuma, among the eager chatter of the people.
“Are you planning to purchase that, good sir?”
Wriothesley’s attention is pulled away from Neuvillette and towards the woman who tilts her head, hazelnut eyes glimmering knowingly, as if there’s a secret both of them shared. And perhaps, that is the case. He’s pleasantly surprised at how perceptive the shop owner is. Takes one to know one, some would say.
He twirls the golden pin between his fingers before he answers, “I am. How much is it?”
“For a charming man such as yourself and the wonderful person you plan to give it to, I’ll give a discount! 20,000 mora.”
“Really?” Wriothesley grins. “Are you sure?”
The woman nods, equally delighted, and winks. “Quite sure! I know the person will love the gift.”
And as Wriothesley fetches the pouch from a secret pocket in his yukata, he doesn’t notice how Neuvillette’s hand falters above the display of earrings before pulling away.
After Wriothesley gave the amount and tucked the delicately wrapped hairpin somewhere safe, both he and Neuvillette decided to check the other stalls. Throughout the entire walk, Wriothesley notices that Neuvillette seems more reserved and distracted. When he tries to start a conversation with the man, Neuvillette merely hums in response then says nothing at all. In the end, he gives up his attempts and the walk becomes uncomfortably silent.
It isn't until Neuvillette abruptly stops at a particular stall did he start to talk.
“Neuvillette?” Wriothesley glances at the stall curiously then back at Neuvillette. “Something caught your eye?”
Neuvillette turns his head to Wriothesley then back at the stall. “Ah, during my chat with Monsieur Kamisato, he mentioned that there's a stall he frequents where he buys his favorite drink. He calls it ‘bubble tea’, a drink that contains sweetened tea and edible pearls. Just like those on display.”
Wriothesley looks back at the stall and, sure enough, inside the tall plastic glasses is liquid that screams sugary delight and pearls that settles at the bottom of the drink. In the corner of his eye, he sees Neuvillette tilting his head at him, strands of hair straying away from the complicated knot.
Oh, how he yearns to tuck them behind his ear.
“This is the thing I was curious about, among other things. I thought the prospect of tea might interest you.”
Wriothesley perks up, grinning at Neuvillette. He's been grinning a lot today, he realizes. “I've heard about bubble tea from the people I met in the city. The drink became a sensational hit around the nation after the Yashiro Commissioner was found drinking during one of his rare breaks. I must admit, I am indeed interested.”
Neuvillette's lips lift to a small smile, already preparing his pouch of mora on his hand. “Then let me buy two for us to enjoy. Don't worry about paying me back, consider this a treat from me.”
Wriothesley opens his mouth to protest — no, he doesn't need to or let me treat you instead or the more embarrassing is this a date then? — but Neuvillette walks towards the stall before he could even utter a word; instead, he sighs, giving into the idea of Neuvillette treating him to a drink that, honest to gods, looks sweeter than his teeth could handle.
Even if he is someone who pairs tea with dessert, he could only handle a small slice of La Lettre a Focalors or a few pieces of Conch Madeleine, and if he wants that extra caffeine, Wolsey would whip up a plate of Coffee Bavarois, but that's all his sweet tooth can handle.
Reading through the various flavors available, he winces at the name choices.
He silently hopes Neuvillette does not give him something too sweet.
When Neuvillette returns, he holds two tall plastic cups covered by a thin circular cover. The tea inside both cups look almost identical in color that it was difficult to distinguish between the two if it weren’t for the lack of pearls inside the lighter-colored tea. Neuvillette extends his hand that holds the other cup; one with a slightly darker color and black pearls settling at the bottom.
“This one is the original bubble tea flavor made with black tea, milk, sugar, and what they call ‘tapioca pearls’.” Neuvillette explains. “The vendor mentioned that you can customize the sugar percentage of your drink. I know you are not as fond of sweets as Sigewinne, so I opted for 50% sugar on your drink.”
Wriothesley smiles as he takes the cup into his hand, careful with the straw dangerously balanced on the cover, his chest bursting with warmth at the man’s thoughtfulness for his sugar tolerance.
“And your pick?”
“Just a simple lychee milk tea. I am not fond of putting 'bubbles' inside my drink so I told the vendor. I went for 75% out of curiosity.”
Of course, Neuvillette would pick fruit tea instead of sweetened milk tea. Wriothesley is pleasantly surprised but at the same time, it's expected for someone who prefers water over wine or tea or coffee.
Nevertheless, this pulls out an amused chuckle from Wriothesley and he tells him exactly that. Neuvillette frowns—no, it almost looks like a pout.
A pout.
Adoration stabs Wriothesley at the sight of it, a flare of cuteness aggression that urges him to pinch his cheeks. He doesn't do that; with the type of relationship they both have (even when they use first name basis when it’s just between them), it feels like crossing an invisible boundary. He wishes he could.
“Are you making fun of my preference?”
“Nah, I just think you're quite predictable. In my eyes, at least.”
Neuvillette says nothing, only stirring the tea with his straw before taking a sip. Dust of red colors the tips of his ears.
Wriothesley tips his head back to laugh good-naturedly then tilts to Neuvillette when he sees the man release the straw from his mouth with a look of awe, lips slightly agape. “How is it?”
“A bit sweet for my taste but the fruity aftertaste is not too overpowering to the tongue,” says Neuvillette before taking another sip. This time, the amazement is palpable in his shimmering eyes, as if he discovered another flavor of water to add to his inventory. The [bubble] tea may not be pure, unadulterated water but it's slowly going to the list, it seems. “If I were to describe this feeling, it's akin to visiting a tropical beach on a summer day. I could picture myself drinking such beverage as I lay under the shade of a beach parasol.”
Wriothesley's eyes curl into crescents. “That great, huh?”
“Do you want to try?”
Opening his eyes, he finds the drink in front of him, the straw almost touching his nose if he leaned too close. He shifts his gaze back to Neuvillette, who stares at him in mild anticipation, then wraps his lips around the straw and takes a sip, still staring at the man in front of him.
His first thought is too much sugar , vaguely recalling that Neuvillette did add 75% sugar to his beverage, and winces. Lilac eyes catches the movement and makes a motion of pulling the drink away, a worried frown on his lips but Wriothesley grasps his wrist, stopping him. The first wave of saccharine was quickly dispelled as the taste of lychee, refreshing and zesty, hit his tongue.
It is delicious, even if the sugar is a little unbearable. Neuvillette chose his drink well.
“Oh, you're right; it does taste great.”
“See? My intuition is never incorrect.”
“Hm, we'll see about that.” Wriothesley teases as he shakes his tea for emphasis.
With a sharp snap of his wrist, he stabs the straw through the cover. He brings it close to his mouth and takes a sip.
Compared to Neuvillette’s drink, this one is less sweet yet silky and creamy to the tongue. A hint of milk in the tea, he notes. And the pearls add the chewy texture to the drink. Drinking it is like intaking a slice of cake and a cup of tea at the same time, except the cake has been rolled into tiny spherical lumps. It's the first he’s ever experienced and it doesn’t taste bad! In fact, he likes it. A quality beverage. No wonder the people were caught in the craze of its popularity; the gossip actually holds merit.
Neuvillette looks pleased with what he is witnessing, though a hint of mirth in his eyes is palpable. “I told you so.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Wriothesley rolls his eyes, not in annoyance. “You’re quite in the teasing mood today, Neuvillette. Do you want a taste of what you picked for me?”
At Neuvillette's nod, Wriothesley extends the cup to him.
“Hmm, not too sweet yet not too bland either. The milk adds a silky and creamy texture to the beverage and removes the potent taste of tea. While I prefer the drink a little sweeter, this isn't bad either. It tastes like something you would prefer.” There's contentment in the shine of his eyes and the upturn of the corners of his lips.
“Maybe we should ask the vendor for a copy of the recipe of these drinks so we could make these during our free time?” He nods his head towards the bubble tea stall. “Sigewinne will need the pointers too, to upgrade her milkshake, of course.” He still shivers at the memory of being forced to consume Sigewinne's [in]famous milkshake, or what he likes to dub, ‘The Milkshake of Desolation’.
“You don't give Sigewinne's milkshakes a chance no matter how frequently I ask, do you…” Neuvillette sighs and shakes his head, though he does smile afterwards. “But let's not bother the vendor. We're nearing the apex of the festival so there's bound to be more customers coming at the stalls soon. We'll have to ask Monsieur Kamisato for a possible collaboration or an extended branch in Fontaine once the event is finished.”
“Alright,” says Wriothesley, nodding in agreement, “I think that will be the best course of action. Approaching the vendor with a sudden motive other than buying bubble tea out of nowhere will likely disturb him.”
He glances up. Between the foliage, the sky is painted in shades of deep purple, fading pink, and golden orange that follows the setting sun. Stars begin to twinkle above them, unveiling themselves once the sunlight begins to sink down beyond the horizon. Darkness starts to creep as the festival is almost reaching its peak yet in its embrace, the traditional paper lanterns illuminate the lands with its soft glow, the gentle breeze rocking them back and forth in a soundless rhythm.
“It's almost time.” Neuvillette whispers. If it weren't for Wriothesley standing close to him, the words would be lost in the breeze, left unheard even by the man. Wriothesley looks at him. He's a few inches shorter without his boots, the duke notes fondly. “We should go somewhere quieter and more spacious to watch the fireworks. I know a place we can go.”
And with that, Neuvillette takes his hand and tugs him along. Wriothesley let out a small yelp as he was startled out of his Neuvillette-focused daze.
The hand clasping his feels cool to the touch, a contrast to his warm one yet comforting nonetheless. It has always been that way, a consistent reminder that the man before him is not human.
Not that it matters to Wriothesley. Neuvillette is Neuvillette, whether he is human or the Hydro Dragon Sovereign.
Eventually, they arrive at an open field just close to the city. There's little to no people around the area, only the foxes overseeing the pasture; a perfect place to watch the fireworks without being disturbed. Wriothesley watches Neuvillette taking a seat on a small patch of grass while quietly observing the foxes trotting about, rolling around and sniffing at wild bushes.
“Did you know that the Electro Archon has a fox familiar?” Neuvillette remarks. A fox trudges closer to the duo, sniffing at the sleeves of his yukata before settling on his lap, curling into itself and yipping happily when Neuvillette brushes his hand on its fiery fur in repeating motion. “I wonder if that’s how the foxes came to be in Inazuma, or why they are able to coexist in peace with humans. They’re friendly, like this lovely lady.”
The fox purrs, as if it understood its sentient pillow. Neuvillette scratches the underside of its chin. The canine nips on his fingers playfully.
Wriothesley regards the scene with a tender look. “It likes you.”
Neuvillette hums, unperturbed by the animal curling in his lap, his hand absentmindedly patting soft fur, and takes a sip of his lychee tea before replying. “We dragons are natural communicators of any and every beast. We understand them just as they understand us, though predators tend to err with the side of caution around us as they recognize the dragons as the top of the food chain, even higher than they. The fox wanted company so I offered.”
“That means you’re an animal magnet then?” Wriothesley plops down next to Neuvillette with a grunt.
The hand halts its movement for a second. “I’m… uncertain. This is the first time I’ve been approached by an animal outside of Fontaine’s sea creatures.”
Wriothesley lets out a small laugh of amusement. “I guess this must be nature telling you to go out more to test that theory.”
Regardless, this paints quite an endearing sight. He wonders if other creatures would approach the Iudex as willingly. The sea creatures lounging on the shores, as Neuvillette mentioned, certainly do, especially otters. Those adorable critters are quite playful and friendly when approached (though Wriothesley worries at times they couldn't distinguish between the amicable and the malicious). They also look quite similar to Monsieur, the azure and snowy coat reflecting the man's white locks and blue… everything else. No wonder there used to be rumors of Neuvillette’s ‘connection’ with the otters.
A flash of blue and white pops up in his mind. How is the little sea creature by the wide glass pane faring, Wriothesley wonders. Possibly waiting for his timely arrival only to discover that the man wouldn't show up and sink down in dejection, waiting a bit longer until its companion finally shows up.
A souvenir from Inazuma might cheer the little guy up.
Silence blankets the duo, more comforting than awkward. At least, that's how Wriothesley feels in this moment he and the Iudex share. Moments as serene as this are far few in between hectic schedules and catching up with additional workload in the recent days with no breathing room to relax, barring those short moments needed to meet what his body demands like food and rest.
While paperwork had lessened over the months since the prophecy befell Fontaine, it didn't return to the languid pace it used to be. Something Wriothesley quietly mourns although only for a brief period. He rather likes the current pace—not too slow that he finds himself with excessive free time in his hands and not too heavy to be losing sleep over.
Leisure time, though spent alone, was never peaceful. His mind always buzzes with anticipation, nerves set alight with restless energy, eyes wandering towards the metal doors more often than he likes to admit. Gaze always razor-sharp, akin to icicles cutting through flesh or frost creeping up your skin.
Only when he basks in the presence of the lovely not-so-dragon does Wriothesley find quietude.
"Inazuma truly looks beautiful under the night sky, don't you agree?"
Wriothesley chances a glance not to the aforementioned city but rather at the man beside him. Under the twinkling ebony sky, Neuvillette looks ethereal even when clad in simple blue robes patterned with white swirls like waves in the sea, and a thick white sash hugging below his hips. Ivory moonlight kisses his skin, giving it the illusion of porcelain. Its subtle glow casts soft highlights on snowy locks. Locks that, Wriothesley notices, have gone loose from its neat knot.
The featherlike weight in his hidden pocket suddenly feels heavy.
"Yeah," he replies, still looking at Neuvillette. "Beautiful." He reaches a hand towards him, his fingers brushing against tufts that threaten to cascade down from its messy bun. "Your bun has gone loose."
Neuvillette turns his head at Wriothesley, towards his palm that's hovering in open air. Wriothesley feels the coolness of Neuvillette cheek and the tips of his strand caress on his fingertips. If the Chief Justice were to turn his head an inch more, Wriothesley would be cupping his cheek.
The movement causes more strands to fall.
"Ah," Neuvillette gasps in realization. His hand moves to fix his hair but pauses midway before putting it down on his lap and shakes his head, sighing. The bun now unfurls, hanging freely on his shoulders like frozen waterfalls, the ends wavy from being twisted into a knot for a long period of time. "That is a shame, I quite like how Miss Kamisato did my hair. It has the added benefit of turning it into something other than a terrible nuisance for once."
If it weren't for how crestfallen the man looks, Wriothesley would've laughed at the complaint. He knows about Neuvillette's occasional disdain towards his long luscious locks and its tendency to... get caught in random gaps and protruding obstacles. He witnessed a fair share of accidents and only managed to look away in time to save the Chief Justice some face and hide the growing grin and a snicker bubbling in his throat. To think the mighty Iudex has a clumsy side. It's endearing to watch.
Now though, disappointment swims in those lilac orbs, a small frown on his lips barely visible under the starry night yet Wriothesley is familiar with the lines that form on the corners of his mouth or the way he presses his lips together in a thin line. With the desire to wipe away the lingering sadness, Wriothesley gives in and runs his fingers through snowy strands.
"Would you like me to style it, then?"
Eyes widen slightly before going back to its softer edges. "If it doesn't bother you, go on ahead."
Wriothesley smiles, teasing. "I wouldn't be offering otherwise, Monsieur." After all the complicated braids and twists and knots he winds up practicing at Sigewinne's insistence, a simple bun is just a piece of cake. "Turn around."
The man does as he was told, turning his back towards Wriothesley.
With gentle hands, Wriothesley gathers white tresses into his palms. It's silky to the touch, easy to comb his fingers through the locks so forming them into a ponytail feels quite effortless. He then twists that around itself until it forms into a thick bun. Neuvillette has not complained about the incessant or any painful tugs so Wriothesley thinks he's doing a pretty excellent job.
Humming to himself, he lets his right hand hold the bun in place while his left hand fishes for something in his hidden pocket and puts it on his lap. With one hand, he deftly unwraps the cover, revealing the hairpin he had secure moments ago. Wriothesley picks it up, causing the tiny flower petals to reflect the moonlight's glow, giving them their iridescent shine, and carefully slots it into the knot.
The bun is secured in place. The flowers twinkle with every sway thanks to the breeze, and the gold of the pin contrasts yet compliments Neuvillette's white locks. The lady's words hold the truth; it is a masterful piece befitting of the man in front of him. Wriothesley is glad he made the correct purchase.
When he finishes, Wriothesley notices the tension resting on Neuvillette's shoulders. It makes him frown.
"Neuvillette, is something wrong?"
For a while, Neuvillette does not say anything.
"I thought..." He trails off, tone confused and unsure to continue, twisting his torso to face Wriothesley. "The hairpin you purchased. I thought you planned to give it to someone else back in Fontaine... At least, that is what I think your conservation with the woman earlier implied." His hand reaches up to brush on the ball of flowers protruding from the knot. His eyebrows knit together in a frown. "Why use it on me? It shouldn't... It wasn't even meant for me."
Wriothesley just sits there wide-eyed, his mouth opening then closing before opening again, only to be left slightly parted as he searches for words to say and failing to find any.
In truth, he is... shocked. Reeling at the fact that Neuvillette thinks that hairpiece was purchased with someone else in mind when in fact, all Wriothesley could think about is how this gorgeous man chose him to accompany him; walk by his side under the pale moonlight and flickering lanterns and fluttering petals, in a nation miles away from their own, how this man—no, this dragon—deserves to be given the most precious of treasures and finest of gifts in Teyvat. That the love buried deep in Wriothesley's heart feels undeserving for someone as powerful and untouchable as Neuvillette; that the man deserves someone who is untouched by crime, whose hand never spilt blood, whose time does not tick away under its final hour, who can be the pillar of support by his side through thick and thin. Not someone as sinful and unworthy as Wriothesley.
Ah, he's been silent for too long. Neuvillette is still looking at him incredulously so he shoves those thoughts aside.
"Neuvillette... That hairpin is for you. I bought it with you in mind." Fingers sweep away the locks hanging in front of Neuvillette's face and tucks them behind his ear. "When I saw this displayed among the various jewelries and trinkets, I thought 'this would look beautiful on Monsieur ', ' I wonder if Monsieur would love this gift ', and bought it as a gift that I planned to give to you once we return to Fontaine." Wriothesley chuckles. "I wasn't expecting to be given it at an earlier time. Were you really expecting it to be someone else, Monsieur?"
Neuvillette coughs softly, pink dusting his cheeks. His eyes flicker down to the blades of grass tickling his fingers. "... Perhaps." Then they return to meet Wriothesley's. "Were you really thinking about me, all this time?"
Wriothesley's breath stutters a little, but he answers. Truthfully. Without hesitation or doubt.
"Yeah, I was. I am, even until now."
Neuvillette seems flustered with the answer. The pink blooms into soft red that now paints along the tips of his ears.
"If that is how it is... then I have a confession to make."
Suddenly, Wriothesley's pulse quickens as Neuvillette turns, his entire body facing him. Distantly, he hears something topple over the grass with a muffled thud but that was all forgotten when peculiarly draconic eyes meet his frosty ones.
"Neuvillette?"
The man didn't speak when he was called. Neuvillette's eyes shift back and forth, as if he was trying to organize his thoughts. Then, with a quiet exhale of breath, "There is... another reason why I chose to invite you to accompany me in Inazuma—a reason beyond the invitation's offer, diplomatic exchanges, and the desire for relaxation."
"Oh?"
Neuvillette nods. "I admit, this invitation has an ulterior motive hidden beneath its surface. Only La—... Furina was aware of such motive but it appears that Miss Lumine had caught on. Either I'm too transparent, the Traveler is too observant for her own good, or Furina passed the word onto her without my knowledge and enlisted her help in secret. That part, I am unsure but it is a possibility."
Wriothesley snorts at that. "Knowing that little primadona and her love for dramatics, the latter is quite possible."
He knows that much, in his short time getting to know her in her pure human self: her love for reading novels until the midnight hour, that undeniable pull to the stage and spotlight, her vast knowledge in the world of theatrics... an actress through and through. Despite the traumas it holds, he doesn't view that as a bad thing. He tells her that.
"So this motive of yours. Don't tell me you invited me because you actually want to spend time with me? If you go to extreme lengths such as this just for my time and company, there really is no need for that. Feeling like missing me? Just tell me at any time of any day and I will come to you. You already know that I am always at your beck and call Monsieur!" Wriothesley tips back his head and laughs at his own tease, expecting the Chief Justice to do the same.
Except Neuvillette doesn't, and Wriothesley opens his eyes that instinctively closed when he realizes this.
And the sight steals his breath away. He couldn't blink. He doesn't want to. Not when—
Not when the small dust of pink scattered on Neuvillette's cheeks bloom into a full-on red flush, his gaze skittered away to the side to avoid his stare, lips pressed into a thin line, wobbly with what Wriothesley can distinctively tell is embarrassment.
...Did he actually guess Neuvillette's motive correctly?
Does he really—
"Neuvillette? Hey, I'm just teasi—"
"No, you are right," Neuvillette interrupts, flinching when he realizes he did but continues on. "I invited you because, as you put it simply, I want to spend time with you. And as Furina suggested, a festival in another nation is a great way to, in her and Sigewinne's words, 'ask that pining fool on a date' , only that Sigewinne called you hopeless instead." He chuckles at that. Wriothesley would've grumbled at the not-so-hurtful insults thrown at him if his thoughts weren't running at thousand miles per second .
A date? His mind helpfully-not-so-helpfully echoes. The voice stupefied. He was on a date this whole time?
"I truly did want to spend more time with you, perhaps catch up on lost time that we could've had were I brave enough to initiate instead. You always were the more daring one between the two of us, always barging into my office despite Sedene's warnings, draping yourself on one of my couches and attempting to distract me from my work, which you succeeded without fail every time. Whether it is genuine determination or stubborn recklessness, I daresay, I envy that."
In the corner of his eye, Neuvillette reaches a hand towards him. Wriothesley does not look away from the man's gaze, even when he is aware of the hand hovering over his shoulder. Even when that same hand moves to cup his cheek. A thumb moves to caress his skin then stays there, a gentle pressure that grounds Wriothesley in the midst of this moment.
His eyes go inexplicably soft as a tender smile forms on his lips, full of adoration and affection that makes it hard to breathe . "And perhaps... I want to show you the extent of my affections after I learned that my feelings for you may have been fortunately reciprocated all this time. The intricacies of my plan fell apart the moment Monsieur Kamisato suddenly pulled me away for a chat but I could hardly fault him for that." Neuvillette sighs. "After all, he is still upholding his duties in spite of the festivities. Nevertheless, the outcome has been achieved—or well, will be achieved once the fireworks go off."
Wriothesley doesn't know how to respond to that. His own version of a confession tethers on his tongue, an incoherent mess that his brain formulated on the spot. He wants to tell Neuvillette that he likes him too, that his affections are surely and definitely reciprocated but he senses that the man is not finished so he keeps his mouth shut.
That urges Neuvillette to continue.
"What I want to say is, I've long held these festering feelings towards you for as long as I can remember. I'm... unsure when this all started: on the day of your private investiture? The personal visit on your seventh day of your Dukedom? Perhaps when I personally sent Sigewinne down the murky depths as your companion and nurse?" The smile on Neuvillette's lips grows minutely, the affection moreso. "All I know is when you held that umbrella over my head for the first time as I was drowned in my own emotions that I had an epiphany. I like you, Duke Wriothesley—and I am glad that you are the person I have fallen for. I just hope that... you'll be there to catch me when I eventually fall in your arms should you give me your answer."
They're close, Wriothesley notices. Too close and yet, not one of them takes the initiative to pull apart. It's as if gravity is pulling them closer. A magnetic force attracting two opposite ends and, in a way, it may truly be that. How does the saying go? 'Opposites attract' ?
Lilac eyes turn hooded as their noses touch. Wriothesley's heart pounds in his ears, in his chest, a wild thing that threatens to escape the cage within his chest. The duke feels his eyes slowly closing as he inches closer. The puff of breath against his mouth is warm and his tongue flicks out to lick his bottom lip, feels it grazing on Neuvillette's own.
Wriothesley tilts his head a little, and Neuvillette does the same. And then—
"There you are! Jeez, you made us search around for a while—oh? Am I interrupting something?"
Suddenly, Wriothesley finds himself lying on grass.
"Ah, Miss Furina!" The Chief Justice's voice is uncharacteristically loud as he stammers. "No, you weren't interrupting anything." A slight pause, and then, "Miss Lumine, Miss Kamisato, good evening."
Tilting his head to his left, Wriothesley sees the semblance of three figures in the distance, right where the field rises into a short hill. One stands with a hand on her hip—who he deduced to be Furina despite the lack of her signature top hat and fancy skirt, replaced by a bubble-patterned yukata if he remembers correctly—while the other two hold what appears to be treats in their hands. He could barely make out the center silhouette making munching motions with her mouth.
That must be Lumine. It's a touch bit inelegant to be Kamisato Ayaka.
"We've been looking all over Inazuma City for the both of you, you know!" Furina huffs as she walks towards the pair, both hands now on her hips. With her silhouette now underneath the pale moonlight, Wriothesley can now see how her heterochromic eyes dart towards a spot on the grass before they widen in horror.
"...Is that bubble tea spilling on grass?"
Alarmed, Wriothesley immediately sits up and —yeah, that's his bubble tea tipped over on the blades of grass. Alongside Neuvillette's lychee tea.
The faint scent of tea and sugar mixed with the tropical fragrance of lychee waft in the air. No doubt the ants in the area would rejoice at the saccharine goodness wasting in the meadow.
Close to him, Neuvillette lets out a soft groan, his head buried on Wriothesley's shoulder. Wriothesley prays that the man doesn't feel his heart pounding like crazy. Judging from that small huff of laughter against his skin though...
Wriothesley squeezes the waist beneath his hand. Neuvillette, definitely a cruel man, laughs even more.
"Yes, Miss Furina, that is indeed bubble tea." Wriothesley answers in Neuvillette's stead since, right now, he's been reduced to a shaking, giggling mess.
Furina finds the sarcasm dripping in his tone amusing even when she tries to don an intimidating look that tries (and fails) to convey her irritation. "And you let it spill on the ground to waste? That's very uncharacteristic of you, Neuvillette." She tuts, wagging her finger.
The judge clears his throat, apparently recovered from his silent fits of laughter, and lifts his head to face Furina.
"My apologies about that. I was merely distracted." Neuvillette explains. A lame excuse if Wriothesley ever hears one; even Lumine looks unconvinced while munching on a Tricolor Dango. "Is there something you need, Furina?"
Furina looks between the two of them for a moment before her expression lights up, as if something dawned on her, then answers, "Nevermind, it can wait until later! We were looking for a spot to watch the fireworks anyway, but since this space is occupied, we'll move somewhere else."
Turning to the ladies behind her, she gestures for them to move out before turning her head a little over her shoulder. "Oh! Miss Ayaka told me that dinner will be held in their estate once the fireworks have concluded. Knowing the both of you, tardiness is a rare display but I'm warning you in advance in case of other... distractions ."
Her teasing tone is sharp on Wriothesley's chest as she giggles before leaving. He bites his tongue before a retort escapes his lips. Vaguely, the warden feels his face going numb with flustered heat.
It's reassuring to see that similar heat paints Neuvillette's face red. He does swear he hears what he thinks to be the lines of 'that woman is a tease ' somewhere under the Iudex's breath but chalks it up to his ears playing tricks on him. Although the image of Neuvillette cursing the primadonna is quite a thought to behold.
Wriothesley breathes out a soft chuckle.
"Why are you laughing?"
The duke tilts his chin down to meet a curious lilac gaze. "Just finding the thought of the Iudex and the Lady acting like a pair of siblings very amusing. Do you know both of you sometimes act like one?"
Neuvillette clears his throat at that. "I have, as some people point out on a few occasions. Miss Clorinde, for one, and Miss Navia too. They're like two peas in a pod: fit for each other."
Wriothesley hums. He draws the man closer by his waist, their chests almost touching, catching the stray curl between his fingers and plays with it. This way, the Iudex is practically sitting on his lap.
"And I suppose the same could be said for us?"
The Chief Justice catches his wrist with a gentle hand. Tilting his head slightly, Neuvillette nuzzles his cheek against a calloused palm. Wriothesley's heart lurches off his chest.
"Of course. That, I wholeheartedly agree that we are made to fit together. Complete each other, in more ways than one."
In the distance, fireworks explode in the sky, decorating the ebony heavens in sparkles of various colors and an assortment of shapes: a sakura blossom here, two koi fishes circling each other there, a mora coin somewhere above. But the pair does not care, nor did they think of taking in the view that only happens once in a year.
For they are busy taking in each other's breaths, lips sealed together in a gentle yet ever-consuming kiss. The hold around the duke's neck tightens, pulling the man closer to the dragon's embrace, and the duke squeezes the lithe waist beneath his warm palms, fingers splayed across Neuvillette's lower back.
What seems to be a vacation spent under the guise of a diplomatic visit suddenly becomes a first date that will be remembered for time immemorial. That is, if Wriothesley accepts the offer that will eventually come sooner or later.
For now, Wriothesley pushes Neuvillette onto the patch of grass as kisses were trailed down from his cheeks to the delicate jawline and to the unblemished column of his throat that he aims to litter with a shower of bruises and bites — a claim that screams that the man beneath him, revered Iudex of Fontaine, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, is his .