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For a moment—amidst a hundred stretching out into almost-infinity yet inevitably, disappointingly, eventually twisting towards an end, the end, ending of all endings—Focalors indulges herself.
To be precise, a ballroom. All golden light and mirror shards, glass floors and ceilings to reflect all that brightness, large enough for two to lose each other in. In the center of this hallowed place, she takes Furina's hands in her own.
Furina demurs, casting her gaze aside.
"I… haven't danced with a partner in a while," she—hydro archon, weeping alone on her throne—admits.
"Neither have I," Focalors says. She leans in with a smile, as if sharing a secret. "Let's just try not to step on each other's toes, then. Shall we?"
Furina's bashful smile draws Focalors's breath from her lungs, so she steps back to draw Furina into a slow, steady waltz. Furina falls into its rhythm easily, the picture of grace, as they step around each other and the shards circling them. Glass gleams at the corners of Focalors's vision.
Up close, pressed against the mirror she knows so well, Focalors notes the details that distinguish them. One could be forgiven for thinking them the same person, but one would be a fool not to notice—
(Furina cuts her hair a little shorter than Focalors would. There's a constellation of freckles where Focalors's skin is unblemished. With their hands intertwined, Furina's skin is a shade darker, having seen the sun just a little more. Her eyes, though also placid as a lake, can be disturbed at all, ripples of emotion visible to any who cared to look, though only her reflection did.)
—all the wear and tear of a human body, warm and uncertain and alive, that Focalors holds in her arms. Just for this moment. Just for a while. Just a little longer—
"Hey, why are you looking at me like that?" Furina demands.
Focalors lets her head tilt to the side. "Like what?"
"Like…" Furina narrows her eyes, then huffs. "Nevermind, forget it."
Focalors hums, before tugging her into a gentle dip without warning. She takes the chance to press a feather-light kiss to Furina's throat before pulling her up, steering them around the largest mirror shard in their path.
"I—You—" Furina splutters, cheeks reddening, even as she stays in step, keeps perfect time.
"You are perfect," Focalors promises. "And relax, will you? I don't bite."
"Well, now I doubt that," Furina says, but her laugh when Focalors sweeps her into another, more drastic dip is bright and unburdened, the brilliant pealing of bells.
It is easy to hold Furina. She is light, lighter than any living being should be; her touch is dewdrops and mist and clouds long before rain. So light that Focalors could imagine stepping through her, into her, once again becoming one. So light that she almost doesn't notice they've stepped off the ground, spinning slow circles in the air.
Furina gasps when she realizes, missing a step, craning her neck to look at the floor as Focalors tries to steer her back into place.
"How did we…" Their dance drags to a halt as Furina gapes at their distance from the ground.
Standing still, it's harder to ignore the mirror shards surrounding them, slotting into every empty space. Focalors doesn't need to look. She already knows the face reflected in each one, eyes welling up with tears—endless depths of sorrow twisting in on themselves, dragging her in deeper and deeper and deeper.
She keeps her eyes on the face in front of her, the one she's dancing with. The one whose eyes are empty of that sorrow, and really anything at all.
"Oh," Furina says.
Focalors sighs. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice for a little longer."
"Mirror-me…" Furina puts her hand on her heart, stepping back, still smiling. "As much as I'd love to keep dancing… you do know I'm not real, right?"
Focalors folds her hands together. "Of course. I created you, after all."
A frown creases Furina's face. "Then… I don't understand."
"Why I created you, when you still can't hear me?"
Furina's face does not move. The mirror shards flash, impossible to ignore as Focalors fixes her gaze on Furina.
WHEN WILL IT END. WHEN WILL IT END. WHEN WILL IT END.
"Soon," Focalors soothes, reaching out to caress Furina's cheek. "Just a little longer."
HOW MUCH LONGER.
"Far too long, I know, but this is the hand we've been dealt, isn't it? You've done so well."
MAY THIS CUP BE TAKEN FROM ME.
"I won't ask you to forgive me for sharing it with you."
Furina's face dissolves into light. Focalors cups it with both hands, as if she could hold it together, and watches the mirror shards swarm in to take its place.
IT HURTS SO MUCH.
PLEASE.
MAKE IT STOP.
"I know, sweetheart."
FOCALORS. FOCALORS.
Focalors does not lower her gaze, does not close her eyes. "My dear, perfect Furina."
WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?
Focalors does not speak, even as Furina fades to blinding light then nothing at all, the ballroom dimming until she can barely see herself. She simply stands there, never looking away, watching every moment of everything returning to nothing; hands holding nothing, still raised as if in supplication.