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The scent of vinegar clings to Azure’s sleeves long after they’ve left the washing rooms. It lingers really unpleasantly — a sour, chemical tang that has soaked into the fabric like penance itself, refusing to be scrubbed out.
Somewhere along the way, they’ve lost their favorite go-to grayshade hat.
They notice only when they step into the courtyard and the wind combs cold fingers through their hair, too bold, too sudden. Instinctively, their eyes widen and their hand goes up — searching for the familiar slant of felt, the worn edge softened by years of use.
Nothing. Just scalp and air.
They stand still in the same place for a moment. Sure, it wasn’t a beautiful hat. It sagged at the corners and smelled faintly of thyme, and sometimes people looked at it before they looked at them.
..But it had been theirs. Given freely. Kept quietly. And now it was simply gone, lost somewhere.
The sunlight weirdly feels a little too harsher without it.
They flex their fingers, still raw from the morning’s Tasks, and breathe out slowly through their teeth.
“Perhaps Two Time has seen it,” they say, with a faint sigh, as though already expecting the answer.
They notice the hymn has not yet ended. Good. It means they may easily roam and walk around without being questioned.
They take the long path around the sleeping quarters, past the broken gate and the flooded step no one has bothered to mend.
Water pools in the cracks of the stone, reflecting a bruised sky.
The Elders in the community say the persistent rain is a sign of spiritual stagnation. But Azure suspects it’s simply the result of poor drainage.
They reach the greenhouse unnoticed.
Inside, the air is warmer, tinged with soil and mint and something faintly citrus — balm leaves, drying unevenly from the rafters.
It’s a comfortingly sour smell. Familiar. Honest.
A few scavenged chairs and cushions line one corner, half-sunken from use. This isn’t an official lounge, but it used to be one, and it’s being renovated.
Someone is already here. Two Time. They’re wearing Azure’s hat. The Grayshade hat.
It takes a moment to register — the tilt of it, unmistakably lopsided; the weather-worn brim, slightly singed on one side from a long-ago candle incident; the faded stitching around the crown, which Azure had meant to mend last winter and never did.
Azure’s mouth opens, then closes again. They had been certain they lost it. Somewhere between laundry and chapel, they must have dropped it, and yet here it is, perched on Two Time’s head like it had always belonged there.
Two Time sits slouched in one of the narrow wooden chairs. Their posture’s a mess. Their breathing’s shallow, almost a little like someone who’s tried too hard to stay quiet and didn’t quite manage it.
Azure watches them for a moment. “...You look like death.”
Two Time does not stir. “Then I shall perish quietly.”
“You will do no such thing. Sit properly.”
“I am, in fact, seated.” A pause, then more muttered: “In spirit.”
Azure considers this answer inadequate and crosses to the stove.
Two Time doesn’t move. Azure hears the soft crinkle of parchment — probably a Task slip. Their own is still tucked into their apron: Mildew Remediation, it had read, as if mildew were some kind of moral failing.
They glance at Two Time again. Their hands are knotted together, thumbs twitching. Something’s wrong, or has been for a while, not that Two Time ever says anything out loud. Not unless it’s strange or sideways or both.
Azure shifts themselves a little closer, not quite touching.
“...Want to trade assignments?” they offer, keeping their voice light. “I’m told I have a strong moral compass.”
That earns a breath. Could’ve been a laugh. Could’ve been a sigh.
“Thank you but there’s no need,” Two Time doesn’t look up, but their grip eases, just barely. “I already finished mine,” they murmur. “Or maybe it finished me .”
“It couldn’t be that bad.”
Two Time leans back, tilts their head toward the ceiling like they’re trying to commune with something above. “You ever scraped fungus off a reliquary while a girl was muttering personal insults in your ear?”
Azure blinks. “...What did you do to her?”
“Nothing!” Two Time protests, their voice a little too high and defensive. “I just simply said ‘hi.’ Apparently that was the problem.”
Azure suppresses a smile. “Was it the way you said it?”
“I don’t know. But I think I heard her say I radiated ‘impure intentions.’” Two Time waves vaguely. “Whatever that means.”
“Oh.”
”Mhm.”
A silence slips between them. Azure turns on the tap, rinsing their hands in cold water — it’s sharp, but preferable to vinegar.
“I thought it was gone,” Azure says. “But here it is.”
They look straight at Two Time.
“You have my hat. Why’s that?”
“It told me it wanted to stay with me.” Two Time says it like they’re explaining something obvious. To anyone else, they’d be freaked out and unsettled by such an explanation, but Azure was used to this sort of thing from Two Time.
“Oh. I see.”
A pause, brief but deliberate, follows — as if to change the subject or forestall further questions. “I am not late to chapel,” Two Time declares, their tone carefully measured, as though this moment has been rehearsed. “I merely departed early.”
“For what reason?”
“I forgot I hadn’t eaten.”
Azure turns. “And this seemed urgent enough to depart mid-sermon?”
“It seemed preferable to fainting.” Two Time lifts their head at last, eyes rimmed with a sleep-deprivation that borders on artistry. “Besides, I would not have heard the lecture properly. I think my ears have become selective.”
Azure does not smile. But something in their chest softens.
They retrieve the tea jars.
“Did you bring a cup?” they ask.
Two Time blinks. “I did not plan ahead.”
“Of course not.”
They lay out two mismatched cups, then measure balm and tulsi with a careful hand. The familiarity of the motions settles something in them — a Task, yes, but one of their own making.
Two Time watches as though the ritual is sacred. Perhaps, in their eyes, it is.
“I have been told I am on penance duty tomorrow,” Two Time says. “For misquoting the second verse.”
Azure raises a brow. “Deliberately?”
“Convincingly.”
They say this with faint pride. Azure does not indulge it.
“There are dried apples in the second jar,” Azure says instead. “If you intend to collapse here, at least maintain blood sugar.”
Two Time, apparently, takes this as permission. They find the jar, pull a slice free, and chew it with the grim determination of someone consuming rations in a war.
“Why do you not leave?” they ask suddenly. “You have skill. I heard the Elders value your work.”
Azure remains silent for a moment as the kettle hisses softly. Steam rises and curls past their hand while they pour the tea. In the corner, sunlight filters through the warped greenhouse pane, casting a faint golden glow on the mist.
“I do not know if there is anywhere else that would have me,” they say at last.
Two Time looks at them. “I would.”
Azure startles — not visibly, but inwardly, as though a string has snapped too close to the skin.
“I mean, well,” Two Time adds, almost sheepish, “if such decisions were mine to make.”
Azure pushes a cup toward them. “Fortunately, they are not.”
They drink in silence for a while.
The tea is too bitter — Azure had added one too many balm leaves, probably distracted — but neither of them complains. The warmth in their hands is enough.
At some point, Two Time closes their eyes. They don’t speak. Their lashes cast faint shadows across their cheek, and their shoulders have lost some of their tension. Not all. But enough.
Azure stares at the second cup.
And then, after a long, thoughtful pause — they slide their chair closer.
Just slightly. Not enough to touch.
But enough to be near.
“Can I have my hat back?”
Two Time opens one eye, just barely. They don’t move otherwise.
“…Do you miss it?” they ask, as if the hat were an old pet.
Azure exhales slowly. “I miss that it was mine.”
That gets a soft, almost imperceptible smile. Two Time doesn’t open their other eye. “You’re not very possessive most of the time.”
They say it like a complaint, but their smile betrays them.
“It suits me,” Azure says.
“It suits me,” Two Time counters, eyes still half-closed. “I’ve looked in mirrors. The hat has spoken.”
Azure leans back in their chair. “The hat is mine. The hat has no voice.”
“Wrong. The hat has a very small, squeaky voice, and it says I’m the favorite now.”
There’s a pause.
“I can always steal it back,” Azure says mildly.
Two Time finally opens both of their eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Azure lifts their teacup. “Watch me.”
Two Time sits up just enough to narrow their eyes. “If you do, I’m taking your gloves. All of them.”
Azure doesn't blink. “I have decoys.”
“Then I’ll take your dignity.”
“That was never on the table.”
Two Time grins. “Good. Makes it easier to steal.”
Azure takes a long sip of tea, trying to remain unbothered. “You’d just leave it crumpled on the floor.”
“As is tradition,” Two Time says sweetly.
“Fine,” Azure sets their teacup down deliberately. “You asked for this.”
Two Time barely has time to blink and do anything before Azure lunges.
It’s not graceful. Azure grabs for the brim of the hat, and Two Time lets out a squawk, twisting to the side so hard they nearly topple over. In the process, they knock over a cushion, tangle their legs in the edge of the throw rug, and send themselves sprawling flat onto the floor with a gasp.
Azure follows them down, not out of violence but sheer momentum — catching themselves with one hand beside Two Time’s shoulder, their other arm still reaching, still determined.
“Azure!” Two Time protests, squirming beneath them. “Unhand me, villain!”
“You brought this upon yourself,” Azure replies, voice maddeningly even. Their hand finds the brim of the hat — just as Two Time jerks away and sends them both rolling.
They end up tangled together on the rug, legs overlapping, one of Azure’s knees bumping against Two Time’s hip. The hat skids off to the side and lands near the base of the coffee table, utterly abandoned. Neither of them notices.
“You’re not dignified enough for this!” Two Time accuses, kicking out with zero aim.
Azure calmly catches their wrist, pinning it down without much force. “Give it back.”
“Over my—ow—over my dead —Azure, that’s my ribs! ”
“The hat,” Azure replies, with infuriating composure, “is mine.”
What began as a ‘battle’ has dissolved into something else. They’re still moving, but less to fight and more to avoid losing — shoving at shoulders, trying not to laugh too loudly. Two Time’s scarf ends up looped around Azure’s wrist. Azure’s hair is falling into their eyes.
Somewhere between a pillow being used as a blunt-force weapon and Two Time calling them an honorless brute, Azure starts laughing. Quiet at first, then a little louder.
It surprises them both.
Because it’s not a sound Azure makes often. And when it comes — warm and unguarded — it stops Two Time mid-insult. They blink, and for just a moment, they forget to struggle.
Azure looks down at them, expression softened. Their breathing’s a little uneven, their sleeve half pulled up from the scuffle.
They stay like this for a little longer before Two Time steals the opportunity, managing to grab a pillow from the couch and smack them square in the side with it.
“Thief!”
It goes on for the next 8 minutes or so.
And eventually, they give up entirely, both of them collapsing onto their backs, their breaths tangled, eyes on the ceiling. The hat rests crookedly on Azure’s stomach lazily.
“…We’re idiots,” Two Time mutters, and their voice is light but soft enough that it feels like a confession. “You’re really strong.”
Azure hums. Their arm is still close enough to brush against Two Time’s, and they don’t pull away.
Two Time shifts themselves, resting their head against Azure’s shoulder.
“…Fine,” Two Time says eventually with their cheeks huffed, and their eyes still set on the ceiling. “We can share custody. How about that?”
Azure closes their eyes, their mouth slightly tilting at the edge. “I want weekdays.”
“Selfish.” Two Time snorts, muffling their face into Azure’s shoulder. “Your greed sickens me.”
Azure plays with the strands of Two Time’s messy hair. “It wasn’t even yours in the first place.”
Two Time closes their eyes like a cat being petted. “Didn’t hear you complaining when I wore it better.”
Azure raises a brow. “You want to try stealing me too?”
“I already did,” Two Time says with a small smile, their eyes half-lidded. “A long time ago.”