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The first time that Sandrone saw Columbina, she wasn’t impressed.
The girl was small, practically drowning in her Harbinger coat. Her dark hair only accentuated her pale skin, that may have seemed ethereal or otherworldly to some, but just looked sickly to Sandrone. She seemed to hover at the edge of the group, melting into Pierro’s shadow.
All in all, she appeared less like one of the Tsaritsa’s feared Harbingers, soldiers primed to burn down the old world and bring about the new, and more like a little lamb who had somehow found its way into the wolf pack.
Just what was she doing here? What, exactly, was Pierro thinking?
These thoughts swirled around Sandrone’s head until she sat across a table from Rosalyne, teacups and plates of biscuits between her.
“They have named her the Third.” Rosalyne said, idly stirring her tea.
Sandrone scoffed. “The third? That thing? Really?”
Sandrone shook her head, glaring into her own cup. She had worked for years, only to be granted the rank of Seventh.
What could that girl do that Sandrone couldn’t?
Just what was so impressive about her?
Sandrone spent most of her time working alone.
She had some subordinates, but most were a waste of her time, making her work progress more slowly as she had to hold their hands and keep them from making rudimentary errors. And that wasn’t even considering the disasters that cropped up more and more frequently when she made the mistake of entertaining the Doctor’s ridiculous theories.
There were her fellow Harbingers, but the only ones who offered tolerable company were La Signora and the Captain – the latter of which rarely accepted invitations to Sandrone’s tea parties.
As a result, she didn’t often see the other Harbingers.
That made their quarterly get-togethers something to look forward to – not that she would ever admit as much aloud.
Sandrone feigned indifference as she listened to Pierro speak, but her attention was quickly grabbed by something just out of the corner of her eye. Movement.
It was that girl again.
Damselette, she had been dubbed. Certainly, the name appeared to suit her, but… just what in the world was she doing!?
Across the table were plates, napkins, and cutlery, preparation for the banquet they were soon to enjoy. Items that should be ignored until the time came to use them; this was common sense that everyone learnt as mere children. Information that was so fundamental to social etiquette that it was burnt into Sandrone’s memory banks, because how could any well-mannered member of society not know such a thing?
…Somehow, it seemed that someone had failed to educate the Damselette.
Fascinated, the girl had picked up her silk napkin. She stroked her fingers across the surface slowly, as if testing the texture. Then, she began to systematically fold it, contorting the fabric into different shapes, until she was left with something that resembled… a bunny rabbit.
The Damselette’s face lit up, apparently proud of her little creation, though she didn’t open her eyes to see if anyone had even noticed. She seemed to be absorbed within her own little world.
Sandrone tore her gaze away from the girl, turning back to Pierro just in time for his speech to come to an end.
She lifted her glass in celebration with the others, and met Rosalyne’s eyes for a moment. There was a knowing glint, as if she knew just what had distracted Sandrone.
It was a merciful day where the lab was empty, void Sandrone and Pulonia. It was Sandrone’s favourite environment; one where she could work freely without having to worry about any unfortunate underlings running around underfoot, keeping her from truly focusing on her– -
“L- Lady Marionette?”
Sandrone’s eye twitched.
She took a breath, forcing herself to calm, and turned around to face the subordinates that had dared to interrupt her.
“What.”
There were two of them, a man and a woman. They looked young, which explained why they had seen fit to interrupt her. Clearly, they had yet to hear about what happened to those that truly annoyed her.
“U- Um,” It was the woman who gained the courage to speak first. “There is… an… issue in the library, m-ma’am.”
“And why is this my problem?”
The woman glanced towards her companion for strength, and he finally seemed to gather his wits enough to speak, albeit with a squeak to his voice.
“It’s, um, it’s the Third, ma’am.”
Sandrone grit her teeth.
Since the Third had been brought amongst them, she had succeeded in avoiding her. It seemed that this would not last longer.
Without another word, she stalked out of the room, past her trembling underlings. She could deal with them later. First, it seemed that she had a Damsel to humble.
Outside the library were a huddle of Fatui agents. Some, Sandrone recognised, but most were unfamiliar to her. As she approached, one of her more competent agents emerged from the crowd, and Sandrone felt slightly relieved at their presence. At least, now, this wouldn’t become as much of a headache as it could otherwise have been.
“Ma’am.” Irina spoke, her voice formal and direct, just as Sandrone preferred it. “The new recruits are afraid of the Damselette’s presence.”
“Why? What is she doing?”
“Erm…” Irina seemed uncharacteristically awkward, but quickly recovered. “...Singing.”
Sandrone was silent for a long moment, before she repeated incredulously:
“Singing?”
“Yes, ma’am. Singing.”
“What ridiculous nonsense…” Sandrone began, shaking her head.
But lecturing her subordinates of their failings wouldn’t be the quickest way to resolve this problem – and someone needed to put that Damselette in her place.
If Pierro planned on turning a blind eye to her eccentricities, then it would just have to be down to Sandrone to inform her that the world could not simply dance to her whims.
Without another thought, Sandrone stepped forward and pushed open the door to the library.
Singing, indeed, was the first thing that she heard as she stepped inside. The song was… beautiful, even Sandrone had to admit. There was something almost nostalgic to it, like the sort of tune that you would hear in a childhood musicbox. If she shut her eyes, Sandrone could almost imagine children running around, waving a toy sword as they– -
Enough of that sentimentality.
Sandrone marched further into the library, following the sound of the Damselette’s song until she found the girl herself. She was sprawled on the floor, laying on her stomach with her legs kicking into the air behind her. She held a book in her hands and appeared to be reading it, although Sandrone had no idea how this was being accomplished, with her eyes remaining closed.
“Ahem.”
The Damselette paused in her song and looked up in surprise, as if she hadn’t heard Sandrone approach.
“You’re… Marionette?” The girl asked, her voice as airy and distant as her personality.
“Lady Marionette.” Sandrone corrected. She didn’t typically care for her full title, so long as basic respect was shown in other ways, but… with this one, she thought that she should make an exception.
“Lady Marionette.” The girl repeated, as if trying the title out.
“You do realise that this is a library, don’t you?”
The Damselette tilted her head to the side curiously, then nodded.
“Of course. That’s why I’m reading.”
“With your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
Sandrone was silent for a moment, waiting for the girl to expand. When she didn’t, Sandrone decided that point was unimportant.
“You can’t sing while you read in a library.”
“Oh. But I just did.”
Sandrone’s eye twitched.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Oh.” The Damselette was silent for a long moment. “Why?”
She had been right, Sandrone realised. The girl had absolutely no awareness of social norms and niceties.
Where had Pierro found her!?
“Because it disturbs the other readers!”
The Damselette turned her head around the room, performing the act of looking around.
“But we are the only ones here. Are we not?”
Calm, Sandrone told herself. Stay calm.
“Because they’re all crowding outside! None of them want to enter!”
The Damselette frowned. “They can join me if they would like. I don’t mind.”
Sandrone was met with a near overwhelming urge to punch a wall. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm herself.
“You are ranked the Third of the Fatui Harbingers. All anyone knows about you is that you must possess some manner of inconceivable power. To you, it may simply be singing, but to our subordinates, it is terrifying. They fear that it could be a sign that you are about to decimate everything in the vicinity.”
The Damselette at least had the good sense to look surprised, but before Sandrone could get too smug, she rose to her feet – an act that seemed more like a rising fog than any human clambering up – still clutching the book that she had allegedly been reading.
“Then… I will finish reading in my quarters.”
The Damselette sounded almost disappointed. Sandrone wondered what was going on in her mind, and even considered if she had been too harsh, but she banished the thought. If the girl couldn’t handle a mild admonishment, then she clearly didn’t have what it took to be a Fatui Harbinger.
As the girl began to make her way towards the door, she paused and spoke over her shoulder:
“Thank you, Sandrone.”
…Strange.
Sandrone didn’t remember sharing her name.