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It’s raining, and for once, Neuvillette isn’t the cause.
…he thinks he isn’t, anyway. It’s true that the skies have been more overcast than usual in the weeks since Furina’s trial, but as they say: time heals all wounds, and the sun is never gone forever.
He’s in an unusually good mood today, in fact. Work has gone smoothly, he had a pleasant lunch with a few of the Palais’ Melusines, and he’ll actually be able to leave the office at the scheduled time. He’s been looking forward to a walk along the beach outside the Court all day — and though the rain may discourage most, it’s only an added boon to the pleasures of a fluvial stroll for Neuvillette.
(Not only because the beach will be deserted, but… well, that is an important factor to consider.)
And indeed, there’s not a soul in sight, the only sound the harsh pattering of rain that drowns out the crunch of his feet upon the sand. It is raining rather heavily today, enough so that even his inhuman vision is somewhat obscured by the precipitation.
It’s not so obscured, however, that he’d miss the obvious figure squatting by the water’s edge. His first thought upon seeing them is that they’ll catch a cold — the legs they’re curled in on are pale and bare, and their owner has nothing to cover themselves aside from a top hat clearly designed for fashion and not practicality.
His second thought is, Oh, dear. I know that person.
“…Lady Furina?” he begins tentatively. She lets out a startled gasp and spins around, a hand clutching her heaving chest. “Are you alright?”
Upon catching her breath, her eyes narrow. “Just ‘Furina,’ please, Monsieur Neuvillette. There is no need for the Chief Justice to stand on ceremony with an ordinary citizen.”
He pretends his heart doesn’t break at her words. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”
Neuvillette stares at Furina, and she stares at him, and the rain continues to pound down from the heavens.
Oh. That’s right, he’s learned from her operas and romantic novels that people who are “well” are not often standing alone in a storm. “What I mean to say is, it’s been awhile… Miss Furina. It’s good to see you.” Another beat of silence. He clears his throat. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Furina lets out an incredulous bark of laughter. “You haven’t changed one bit, have you?”
She turns back to the water, crossing her arms over her knees and resting her chin on them. As she does so, Neuvillette takes a better look at the state of his former partner. Her sapphire-blue shoes are stained with mud and rainwater, her cotton hair has long since flattened to her cheeks and neck.
“Would you prefer it if I had?” he ventures, taking a step forward so that he’s within an arm’s length of the former Hydro Archon (in name, if not in truth).
“No, that’s not” — a strangled sound escapes from Furina’s throat, something like a mix of a sigh and a sob — “you know that’s not what I mean.”
Neuvillette hums in acknowledgement, but says nothing more. Furina, uncharacteristically, doesn’t speak again either, a fact that would be more alarming if anything about this situation had been typical of the Furina he knew.
(That Furina is dead, was never really alive to begin with, and if he lingers too long on that fact the rain will never cease.)
He has to admit he’s curious about her purpose for being here, on a beach outside the city walls during such a harsh storm. He leans over a bit to sneak a peek at what she’s doing, but as far as he can tell, she’s merely gazing at the roiling waters, their surface broken by thousands of pellets dropping from the sky.
“If I may ask,” Neuvillette moves so that he’s standing beside Furina’s crouched form, right where the tide comes in, “what brings you to the beach today? Surely there are better places to wait out the rain.”
Furina glances up at him as he approaches. Now that he’s closer, he sees that her eyes are ringed with smudged mascara; he wonders if it’s fresh, or if she’s forgotten to wash it off. She quickly looks back down at the shoreline the second their eyes meet.
“Nothing,” she grumbles, so quietly it’s almost drowned out by the rain. Her fingers, bereft of their usual gloves, worry at a line drawn in the sand. Neuvillette watches Furina as she watches the waves push themselves onto the sand, stopping just short of the line before ebbing back out to the sea. Furina seems to breathe a sigh of relief, the tension in her shoulders receding just like the water.
They remain in silence as this pattern repeats itself three more times. Each time the water comes in, Furina’s whole body tightens noticeably, only relaxing when the tide has fully retreated.
Neuvillette, for all his flawed understanding of human behavior, is not so dull that he can’t ascertain what’s really going on here.
“Miss Furina.” His words come out sterner than anticipated — Furina startles, jumping a not-insignificant amount, though she doesn’t turn to look at him.. He pauses and tries again, softly this time. “Is there a reason you’re keeping track of the water level?”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and Neuvillette would think she didn’t hear him over the sound of the rain if not for the way her fingers pause in their fidgeting, digging into the sand with tense ferocity.
“...nothing gets past you, does it?” Furina says finally. She sighs heavily and, with a quick wave of her hand, scatters the sand and destroys the marker she’d drawn. “Have you considered that what I do is no longer your concern?”
Not an unexpected response, but not an ideal one, either. Neuvillette crouches down, then, mirroring Furina’s stance. The hems of his robes brush against the sand as Furina looks at him in surprise. “Have you considered, Miss Furina, that I may have a personal interest in your welfare, regardless of whether or not we are colleagues?”
Her face flushes red before she turns away. “I don’t see why you would.”
“Hm.” is all Neuvillette says in reply. If she wants to speak, she will; she’s made it clear over the past few weeks that she wants to get as far away from the Palais Mermonia as possible. He respects Furina, and that includes her decisions — but he doesn’t want to leave her alone in this weather without giving her a chance, at least.
His eyes flit to the Vision at her waist. Even though there’s no sun shining on the two of them, the glassy surface of the pendant seems to glow and pulsate. He remembers her performance from a few weeks past, how despite her insistence to the contrary, she’d given the audience all the grandeur they’d come to expect from Fontaine’s brightest star — and more, in his opinion, now that the role was but a temporary one, the act willingly done. He remembers watching from the back of the Opera as he felt a surge of Hydro energy at the same time as the proof of Furina’s strength manifested onstage and thinking, did I do that?
He lifts his gaze to the view in front of them. The usual calm of Fontaine’s lake has all but vanished, blown away by the harsh winds and heavy rainfall. This must be the worst storm the city’s seen since the flood.
“I know it’s not rising,” come Furina’s words, so soft Neuvillette has to lean forward to hear her. “I know it’s not. But I just…”
She takes a shuddering breath. Voice barely above a whisper, she says, “What if it wasn’t enough?”
“It was,” Neuvillette responds, with none of the uncertainty of his former colleague. “The power of Hydro is in my care now, not Celestia’s. I would know if anything was wrong.”
“I know that,” Furina says, desperation clouding her words, “but knowing it doesn’t help.”
“So what does?”
“What?”
“What does help?” Neuvillette shifts position to allow a crab, seeking shelter from the storm, to settle in the sand between his legs.
Furina watches the crab disappear under the cover of Neuvillette’s robe. He can see her chewing at the corner of her lip, a nervous habit he’s plenty familiar with. She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
A moment of silence passes between them. Neuvillette ponders if he ought to say something, but before he can even think of the words, Furina speaks again. “Could you stay here a little longer?”
Neuvillette’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. After weeks of no contact between the two of them, this is certainly a surprise. “Of course, Miss Furina. If you’ll have me.”
“Sorry,” she adds hurriedly. She buries her face in her hands, so her next words come out a bit muffled. The rain seems to be lessening, though, so Neuvillette has no trouble hearing her. “It’s just, you’d know better than I if the water was rising, you said so yourself, and so if you’re here, and you’re not worried, then it’s fine, right?” On the last word, she brings her face back up, mismatched eyes meeting his. Though she may no longer hold the seat of the Hydro Archon, those eyes will never cease to resemble water’s duplicity: a calm lake’s surface in midsummer, and the churning waves in the deepest, primordial parts of the ocean.
“Yes. It is just as you said.” Neuvillette tries to channel all his sincerity into the space between their eyes. “If my presence will ease your worries, I will gladly provide.”
“Thanks.” There’s a sudden weight on his side — when he glances over, Neuvillette sees that Furina’s slumped her body onto his. Her hat’s been discarded on the sand below, and the tips of her hair (oh, how she used to complain to him about the strands that refuse to lay flat on her head) tickle his ear. “Sorry for being a burden.”
He feels his face soften into a small smile. The rain has slowed to a drizzle; he thinks he may see the sun beginning to shine on the horizon through the newly-thinned clouds. “It’s no trouble at all.”
—
As expected, the rain clears up in a matter of minutes, clouds fading away to reveal a sunset painted in fiery reds. When Furina makes no move to get up, Neuvillette glances down at the woman leaning against his shoulder, and sees that she’s fallen asleep. Her chest rises and falls evenly, and even her mascara-smudged eyes have lost their tightness.
He tries to maneuver around her gently so that he might lift her into his arms and carry her back to the city — he believes her address is on file somewhere, but if not, she’s welcome to sleep in her old room in the Palais (everything is just as she left it that day, how could anyone bear to throw away her memory?) — but either he’s too clumsy, or she’s not as unconscious as he thought. Her eyes flutter open the instant his weight shifts.
Furina blinks a few times in what Neuvillette assumes is confusion before jolting upright with a gasp. “Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, it’s just you.” Letting out a flustered laugh, she smoothes down the left side of her hair, tousled where she’d been laying against his side. “It appears I’ve dozed off. My apologies.”
“It’s quite alright.” Neuvillette clears his throat and straightens his jabot before standing. His legs are a bit stiff from crouching on the sand for so long, but he resists the urge to shake them out. “If you’re feeling better, I can escort you back to your abode.”
Furina jumps up, face flush. “Oh, no, no, thank you. I can walk myself back, Monsieur.”
Neuvillette’s heart sinks a bit at that — he’d never realized how much he valued Furina’s regular presence until it was stripped away, and he misses even her idle chatter distracting him from his work, so he’d hoped to enjoy the familiar comfort for a few moments longer — but he won’t argue. She can take care of herself. She’s arguably better equipped to defend herself now than she was in all 500 years of Archonhood, thanks to the Vision hanging from her sash. “As you wish. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Miss Furina.”
He turns to leave, but before he can get more than two steps towards the Court, he hears Furina shout, “Wait!”
He glances back at her, but she doesn’t meet his gaze; instead, her eyes trace the line where water meets sand.
“Those with Visions,” she begins slowly, “humans with Visions, I mean. They can breathe in Fontaine’s sea, correct?”
Neuvillette nods, though she’s not looking. “I cannot speak from personal experience, but yes, I have ample evidence to believe that is the case.”
“So, in that case.” She clenches the hem of her coat in her fists, then relaxes them just as quickly. “I would also be counted among their number.”
“Naturally,” Neuvillette responds, the slightest hint of a scoff in his tone before he realizes.
In all four centuries he’s known her, he’s never actually seen Furina dive into the sea. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time — she was a socialite who spent all her days at tea parties and trials, not alone beneath the waves that would ruin her careful styling — but now that it’s been brought to his attention, it really is odd that the Regina of All Waters never indulged in a swim.
Unless, of course, she never had any real power. Unless she could not breathe in the terrestrial sea, and pretending she could would mean subjecting her immortal self to an unending drowning.
“Oh.” is all he can muster in response to this revelation.
“I know, I know,” she says with a bitter laugh, as though she’s read his mind, “it’s pathetic. The former Hydro Archon, scared of water.”
“Pathetic?” Neuvillette answers incredulously. “Not at all, Miss Furina. I am continuously astounded by your strength of character.”
Furina’s jaw falls open in shock, and she stares at Neuvillette as if he’s grown a third eye, but he doesn’t give her a chance to speak.
“Now. If I’m understanding correctly, you would like to experience the delights of Fontaine’s submarine life?”
It takes Furina a moment to close her gaping mouth and school her expression into something more neutral. “I — yes, that’s right. I can do it by myself,” she adds hurriedly, “but if you’ve got nothing else going on, I wouldn’t mind your company.”
Neuvillette huffs a laugh. Perhaps Furina hasn’t changed all that much after all. “My evening is free.” Most of his evenings have been, lately. He never made arrangements for dinner parties or opera showings before, and he was never interested enough in such trifles to bother going alone.
“Oh, you mean like, right now?” Furina sputters, glancing around as if there’s anyone but the two of them on this empty beach. Her shadow is long in the last rays of the dying sunlight. “I-I mean, of course! Of course. There’s no time like the present, like I always say!”
Her laughter is bordering on manic, so Neuvillette interjects, “You do not have to do anything you don’t wish to. Tonight just seemed like a pleasant evening for a swim.”
Furina’s eyes break contact with his and dart to the water’s edge, where the waves roll in and out in the gentle breeze. Neuvillette watches as her shoulders rise with the deep breath she takes. “Alright. Yes. Let’s do this.”
She begins undoing the buttons on her jacket. It takes longer than normal, her fingers shaking and missing their targets, and it takes all of Neuvillette’s willpower to keep from helping her. He’s known her for longer than most can even comprehend, and he knows that she’s likely already embarrassed enough as is.
Finally, she shrugs off the jacket and her sash, leaving just a fine black blouse framed by a white vest. She pins her Vision to one of her belt loops. Then, she looks at Neuvillette with an eyebrow raised. “Do you plan to swim in your Iudex robes, Monsieur?”
“Hm?” He glances down at his body, hidden behind swaths of heavy fabric. “No. Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
That must be the right answer, because Furina stifles what sounds like a real, genuine laugh behind her hand. “Aren’t you worried they’ll get wet and heavy?”
Neuvillette shrugs lightly. Seeing Furina’s happiness, he can’t keep the corners of his lips from turning up. “It has never been a problem before.”
Furina rolls her eyes, but there’s the ghost of a smile on her face. She slips off her shoes and socks, places them next to her neatly-folded jacket in the sand, and takes a deep breath. Her mismatched irises meet Neuvillette’s, and with a wink, she says, “Well, let’s get on with it, then!”
Despite her confident demeanor, she doesn’t take the first step into the water; instead, she eyes Neuvillette expectantly, as if waiting for him. In fact, that’s most definitely what she’s doing, so he breathes a sigh of lighthearted exasperation and wades knee-deep into the lake.
Immediately, he feels a surge of energy, as though the blood in his veins had been still until this moment. He spends so much time away from the water that he’s used to the dullness of the terrestrial world, doesn’t even notice it until moments like these when he steps into the depths and feels alive like never before.
His reverie is interrupted by a yelp to his left. He glances back to see Furina, one foot hovering over the lake’s surface, toes just barely skimming the water. She gives him an apologetic smile. “It’s, erm, it’s colder than I expected.”
“Is it?” He slides the gloves off his hands and runs his fingers through the shallows. It’s a bit cold, he supposes, but Fontaine’s sea is never as cool as the ocean proper. “You’ll get used to it.”
“‘You’ll get used to it,’ he says,” Furina mutters under her breath, not so quiet that Neuvillette can’t hear it. Despite her grumbling, though, she obliges, shuddering a bit as her bare skin makes contact with the lake but not complaining.
When she’s got both legs in the water that reaches up to her knees, she looks up at Neuvillette with a pleased grin. “I did it! Do you see this, Monsieur Neuvillette? Nothing can stand in the way of the marvelous Furina!”
“Yes, yes, very impressive, Miss Furina. Now, are you ready to dive?”
Furina blanches at that. Neuvillette watches as her shoulders rise with a deep, steadying breath, before she sprints (well, quickly wades is perhaps more accurate, with the drag from the water) forwards and launches herself under the waves.
“Oh, my.”
Since they’re apparently not wasting any more time, Neuvillette dives into the water after her. Immediately, the liquid fills his lungs as he takes a deep inhale, basking in its soothing purity.
He hears a spluttering beside him, and turns with a healthy amount of panic — but instead, what greets him is Furina’s smiling face.
She opens her mouth, and a stream of bubbles floats out. “Oh my stars, this is…” She takes a breath and looks delighted at the fact that she isn’t drowning. “Neuvillette, I can breathe.”
“Yes,” he says, and he can feel a smile mirroring hers creeping onto his face, “you can.”
He watches as she takes in the scenery with eyes aglow. “It’s so…” Her words are light, filled with awe, “It’s so colorful. And bright. And…”
She trails off. Neuvillette follows her gaze to see a pair of young seahorse Fontemer Aberrants tossing a bubble between them. He looks back at Furina and begins to feel genuinely concerned that she may melt, or explode, or both.
“Oh my Archons,” she manages to breathe, “they’re beautiful.”
Neuvillette stifles a laugh. “They are, aren’t they?”
Suddenly, Furina looks at him sharply. “Neuvillette. Do you know where the other species of Aberrants live?”
“I have a rough understanding of their typical habitats,” he says, a bit taken aback. “Why?”
There’s a glimmer in her eyes that he hasn’t seen in ages, and oh, how he loves and dreads what it means all at once. “I’ve just had the most magnificent idea.”