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Unlike what Navia had heard about the distant lands of Liyue and Inazuma, in Fontaine, predicting the rain was simply impossible. The air here was heavy and humid as if before the rain, it was clinging to the skin and curling the hair. It smelled of moisture, salt, iodine, and wet sand. When you were in the center there also were hints of coffee, lavender, and sweet perfumes. Carrying an umbrella was always a wise choice in Fontaine. Even on days without rain, it remained an important accessory for the city's fashionable women, showing off their style and elegance (especially when wielded as a means of self-defense).
A large, cold droplet landed on Navia's nose, causing her to squint and wrinkle her face. The former butler had warned her not to sit at the table on the veranda; there would be no savoring the still-crisp croissants and tea full of apple cubes, caramel, and tiny rose buds blooming in the water like living flowers. The droplet slowly trickled down her nose, lingering at its tip before falling with a "plop!" into her cup. Yet, when her bodyguard, in his usual firm yet caring manner, offered her an umbrella, Navia's soft brows furrowed even more.
"That’s unnecessary," she said, cutting off any argument as she rose from her seat. "You can return to Poisson. I’ll be along later."
Navia glanced at the butler. A single fleeting look was enough for her to see complete understanding in the creases around his eyes. With a relieved nod of farewell, she acknowledged him. He had helped her more times than she could count. With such thoughts she hurriedly wrapped the croissants in napkins, determined to ensure they didn’t fall or, worse, get soggy. After all, who in their right mind would eat salted croissants?
Rain quickly drizzled onto the glass tables and the pale cobblestones, causing them to darken. Despite the wind's loud whistles, Navia stubbornly walked toward the palace of Mermonia. She hid the pastries under her skirt, paying no mind to her rapidly soaking hat and dampening curls. Her stomach knotted in anxiety, and her ribs uncomfortably heaved against the corset. If it weren't for Fontaine’s fashion, Navia was sure that her heart would have already jumped out of her ribs. She suspected her help might prove futile, but she longed to share the sky's tears, hoping to lighten the burden of their source. Or at least to avoid sitting idly.
The melusine at the entrance of the palace of Mermonia had never been a problem. Her appearance (small, with delicate horns and peach-like skin) was neither surprising nor confusing. Navia’s straight posture, loud tone, and confidently raised chin and quick yet convincing lie opened every door for her. Yes, she had an appointment for today. At this very time, in fact. Perhaps there had been a mistake in the paperwork. What else can you expect from office workers?
And before the melusine could verify, Navia slipped into the office of the Iudex of Fontaine. She rudely shut the wooden doors behind her with a decisive click of the lock.
Inside it was eerily quiet. That click seemed to seal the room from the outside world, as if the very walls absorbed all sound, isolating the owner of the office from the outside world. Only the rain tapped softly against the stained-glass windows and echoed as if heard through layers of water. Every slight rustle was magnified here. Navia was sure that her heart was beating loud enough for him to hear. She slowly turned, only to meet the gaze of the Iudex.
"Is something wrong?" A soft, husky voice enveloped the spacious room, sending shivers down Navia's spine.
She smiled shyly, her lips slightly lifting at the corners. The Iudex of Fontaine sat at the table, surrounded by smooth wood, soft velvet, and neat stacks of documents. His luxurious attire made his shoulders appear broader than they truly were, his hair framed his face, accentuating tightly pressed lips and contemplative squint. Navia could have stood there for several more minutes, admiring him like a beautiful statue. The way the light fell on his short, white lashes and how charming the feather pin looked, revealing his elegantly curved ear. She knew all too well that such attention would embarrass Neuvillette, especially if she continued to lean against the door in silence.
One last glance at Neuvillette's features made her heart twist uncomfortably, as if a cat was scratching at her insides, protesting the oddity of the scene. She furrowed her brow, looking first into his eyes, then at the stained glass, where the rain continued its gentle percussion.
"I am the one who is supposed to ask that. What has happened?"
Her voice carried those spoiled, stubborn notes, and she enjoyed how Neuvillette’s eyebrows lifted slightly, revealing a fleeting glimpse of human surprise. Navia carefully walked towards him, trying not to rush to the table too quickly. Though she longed to dash forward, wrap her arms around his neck, and show him she was right there. Just like that, skin to skin, without the gloves and the formalities of etiquette.
Neuvillette shifted slightly away from the table, and Navia took this as an invitation. Spotting a clear space free of papers and an inkwell, she retrieved the croissants from their napkins and put them on the desk. She looked at the crumpled, golden sides with mild disappointment. They were no longer as appetizing as they had been ten minutes earlier. Still, the aroma was truly divine.
"I am sorry. It’s nothing serious." Neuvillette coughed, as if breaking a long silence, his gaze lingering on the quickly cooling pastries. "Have you taken a break from your duties?"
"And here you are apologizing again..." Navia ignored the question; it didn’t matter now, and a quiet sigh slipped from her lips, almost a moan of complaint.
They always circled back to the same point. Navia asked him not to apologize, yet he continued, gazing at her with his sad, puppy-like eyes. She crossed her arms over the chest, leaning her hips against the table, watching Neuvillette expectantly. He first glanced at her legs, then raised his eyes to meet hers, almost like a child unsure of what to say or do. Navia tilted her head and offered a hint. She gently nudged a croissant toward the Iudex. He regarded it with an unreadable expression before bowing his head in an elegant gesture of thanks.
"Thank you."
She smiled foolishly, captivated by the way a strand of hair had slipped from behind his ear and how Neuvillette bit into the flaky pastry. Thoughts, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the rain, drifted far away. A soft giggle escaped her lips, ringing in the silence of the office. Neuvillette’s head snapped up; he swallowed the unfinished bite audibly and raised his brows in surprise.
"You look like an otter," Navia whispered, her smile sincere.
His eyebrows shot up even higher, and he turned away, covering his lips with his fist. Neuvillette seemed to expect anything but this, and his embarrassment only elicited more playful laughter from Navia.
"Really! You even hold the croissant just like an otter."
His discomfort amused her, sparking more mischief within her. Navi pressed on, not with malice, but hoping to infect the always serious judge with her joy, as children do when they catch each other’s laughter. Neuvillette glanced at his hand, leaving the croissant resting in just one.
"I... will take your observations into consideration, Miss Navia."
He continued chewing the treat, and Navia had no doubt that worrying about him forgetting to eat was unnecessary. He never skipped a meal, always sitting down at precisely the right hour, not so much from hunger but out of relentless perfectionism. Yet she was certain that such delicious pastries, crafted by her hands, were absent from his usual menu.
"Thank you. It’s very tasty," He said after swallowing the last piece.
Navia's lips spread into a soft smile.
"Which do you prefer, this one or the one I made last time?" She asks, tilting her head to the side.
He stayed silent for long moments. Navia wondered if Neuvillette was deep in thought, either too concerned about his choice or trying to find a hidden meaning in her question. Both were charming enough on his part, but she still hoped for the first option.
“With caramel,” the Iudex confessed, lifting his gaze to Navia from beneath his lashes.
She giggled and playfully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Sweets and pastries are meant to bring joy. And could she really deny such a little thing to Monsieur Neuvillet himself?
“Next time, I’ll make it with caramel.”
Her gaze slid out the window. The rain had quieted down, lurking like a bewildered cat, slowly swishing its tail from side to side. The drops no longer tapped so insistently and painfully like a distressed piano. Yet, the rain was still falling. Her smile slowly faded, and Navia sighed. She glanced down at the table. There was a folder containing one of the current cases. She shamelessly pushed it aside and carefully sat in its place right on the table. Neuvillet raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head to the side and looked almost reproachfully at how she was settling comfortably on his desk.
“Navia… I need to work,” He tried to object, but Navia was stubborn.
“What’s wrong with you? You know you can tell me.” She asked insistently, giving him no chance to get bogged down in accounting or argue with her.
Neuvillette sighed, leaning closer to the desk. It had always been like this; he continued to keep everything inside, maintaining the serious demeanor of a judge even when it wasn’t necessary. Like right now. The cold Monsieur Neuvillet, the Iudex of Fontaine, appeared emotionless and reserved in the eyes of those around him. Navia felt she was the only one who understood and saw him even if only for a little. Even Neuvillette didn’t fully understand himself. And she felt as though she had known him her whole life, even if that wasn’t true. Navia saw the rain, and her heart couldn't find its place from worriedness.
Not resisting for long, Neuvillette leaned into her like a kitten, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her stomach.
“I’m tired,” He confessed so quietly that she could barely hear him.
Navia's eyebrows raised in surprise. Of all people, Iudex Neuvillette certainly couldn't be tired. At least, she expected a different response.
“Tired?” Her voice broke in astonishment, and Navia flinched as Neuvilet nodded slightly.
He still did not lift his forehead from her stomach. His breath warmed her thighs, and his arms tightened around the slender waist. A shiver ran down her spine, and her legs suddenly felt numb and heavy from pleasant fatigue. Neuvillette's face was hidden behind the tousled light locks that fell over his shoulders, but this moment was more intimate than when they were undressed. Her whisper was feeling foreign against the backdrop of raindrops beating against the glass.
“Neuvi…” Navia ran her fingers through his hair, gently gliding through the light strands and touching his skin.
A tightness gripped her chest worser than a corset; words suddenly vanished and did not return to her dry throat. Surprise slowly gave way to realization, smoothly turning into confusion. Perhaps no one really knew Neuvillette after all. Navia didn’t know how to help him, and she didn’t know what he was feeling.
She had always been amazed at how much weight of responsibility and justice was placed on his broad shoulders. Sometimes, Neuvilet in his judge's chair seemed to her like a machine, just like the Oratrice itself. Impartial and mechanical, like a pile of metal deep within the Opera House. In response to Navia's shocked questions and bright exclamations at the amount of paperwork in his archives, Neuvillette would always calmly shake his head and repeat the same nonsense that criminals don’t have days off. And Navia believed him! Only now did her eyes begin to focus more on how he held his shoulders today, slumped and uneven, and how dull his voice sounded. It seemed that something almost human like was beginning to seep through his impassive shell. Something neither Navia nor Neuvillette had ever suspected existed.
The velvet silence of the office, accompanied by the muted sounds of the rain outside, enveloped them from all sides. Neuvillette quietly embraced Navia's waist tighter, while she was lost in her own thoughts. The feeling of tiredness was unfamiliar to her. She was not lacking in optimism and stubbornness to carry her goal through to a victorious end. But she also didn’t lack something that was clearly absent in Neuvillette: care for oneself.
Navia loved to take tea breaks. During them, all questions were resolved more quickly and easily, and her thoughts organized themselves neatly, weighing far less. If she thought about it, she realized that she had only seen Neuvillette not working when he was with her. He dissolved into his career, wholly dedicating himself to ephemeral justice without sparing himself at all. Navia's heart ached painfully.
In her world, tiredness could always find an outlet in tears and tantrums. For a fleeting moment, Navia wanted to squeeze Neuvillette tightly, until the shoulder pads crunched. To hold him so tightly that he would finally cry, that it would make him feel better. This thought was simple and utterly unreal: she wouldn’t have the strength, and it was unlikely to help anyway.
Navia pulled Neuvillette closer and gently stroked his head, running her fingers through his hair. The rain was becoming quieter and more like a soothing lullaby, and the embrace and silence between her and the Iudex felt like a down comforter.
“Do you feel better when the sky cries?”
Navia whispered softly, as if the rain could eavesdrop on them. For a moment she thought that even Neuvillette hadn’t heard her. He held her close, burying his face against her. Navia didn’t want to let him go. She wanted to share his tiredness, to take it upon herself through their touch.
Neuvillette’s grip relaxed slightly. Navia fleetingly thought he wanted to return to work again; she even leaned back a little, preparing to scold the Iudex. But he looked at her with sleepy, tired eyes.
“I don’t know.”
His hands glided along her back, holding her like the most precious pearl, his fingers brushing against her cheeks. Navia suddenly felt warm. All her emotions twisted in her lower abdomen as she found herself lost in Nevillet's crystalline eyes.
Seconds felt like moments before Nevillette, flustered by the emotion he couldn't name, returned his face to its usual calm and composed expression and attempted to sit up straight in the chair. Noticing this, Navia leaned forward without hesitation, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips against his, stealing a kiss that expressed far more feelings than any of the words could. Time froze in astonishment; Nevillet did the same, pausing in place, afraid of startling the emotionally moved girl. His hands pulled Navia closer and tighter, as if holding her would prevent her from disappearing.
Navia nestled against Nevillette and shifted from the table to his lap. Her fingers once again tangled in his hair, disturbing its neat arrangement, while her head rested on his shoulder. Each of her touches was a silent "I will be here." The quiet hope in Navia's heart was like butterflies, inexorably drawn to any light. And even though she didn't fully understand Nevillet, when she caught the scent of his cologne and felt his warm hands on her back, she was watching the sun break through the veil of clouds, it seemed to her that everything would be alright.