Work Text:
Though the Curatorium was built to be a very patient place, Nefer happened to be the opposite. She found herself mulling about this while waiting for her tea to boil, muttering to herself on how she should really take out of Jahoda’s paycheck and buy them both a new stove. In no malicious intent, after all, it was Jahoda who had broken three of the four burners with her idealizations of home-cooked meals.
She drummed her fingers over the countertop, debating if she should just switch off the stove and call it quits. But there was always that itch that wanted to know more. This mission– self-assigned and carried it– was something that was nagging at her. The whole ‘Rerir’ situation made her even more suspicious of her partners than she was originally.
Maybe it was because she was actually involved with all of this. Maybe because she just couldn’t withstand not knowing every detail in their lives. Maybe because she was nosy. Maybe she was paranoid. Nefer wanted to know more.
How she made her way to the back room with her tea was unexplainable, but the weight of her chess set felt like home. This was what she was really after. And if the cure for boredom was a hobby, then she considered this one good enough.
Flins. The name came easily to the forefront of her mind, and the set glowed an according green blue to match the thought. A Ratnik with the palest eyes she had seen, who seemed not only wrapped up in this nonsense, but also dead set on helping Lumine figure it all out. (Considering Nefer was also helping Lumine… she couldn’t fully be one to judge).
He was curious, and she was too. What better way than to do some digging?
A loud meow draws her out of her thoughts, and Nefer narrows her eyes at Ashru. The cat had climbed up onto her desk– which he knows he’s not allowed to do. Ancient cats were no exception to regular house-pet rules.
Ashru only narrows his eyes back at her, placing two paws on her chess set and fixing her with a look.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Nefer protests mildly, knowing exactly what had got Ashru so agitated. “It’s not like I’m selling their secrets.” She wouldn’t do that. She thinks. Depending on who was asking and how much they were willing to pay.
The black cat is unamused but lowers his paws from the set and hops off the table elegantly. What a show-off. Nefer is tempted to roll her eyes when she’s reminded that she is a person, and Ashru is just a cat. “I’m not arguing with you.”
But he did have a point. Dealing in memories was a dangerous gamble, and one that she already paid the price for this week. Apologizing to Albedo for something he had asked… was not necessary. But was she easier on him and his brother? Sure. Simple kindness– the kind that Jahoda sometimes had too much of.
And now Nefer was back, digging into secrets that she was theoretically supposed to keep her hands away from. Could she help it? Of course not. If Flins didn’t want his history to be known, he should’ve stayed away from her. She wasn’t the boss of the Curatorium for nothing.
Instead of swirling green or red or whatever color had haunted Albedo’s memories, colors that reminded her of an aurora mix with the emerald as she closes her eyes and lets it take her.
Nefer awakes at a party.
She’s startled immediately, not expecting to be jostled around by masked people in all sorts of polished attire. It’s jarring, but she settles when she regains her footing. Interacting with the memories was possible, but also very hard to actually do. Especially when it was memories closer to Flins’ mind– which was apparently this one. Those were the easiest to access from long-distances, and all she really had to work with.
A glimpse of a well-dressed lady practically gives Nefer another heart attack though, and all of her Nod-Krai history lessons come flooding back. Were those ears? Like of the old fae? Certainly not, an improbable illusion for someone still as young as Flins. (The fae existed… years ago. Hundreds of years ago. He would not have memories of them. Certainly).
The faerie with the dress stops at a table with refreshments and picks up a glass of red liquid. She stops though, squinting at a child with the same ears, before crouching down at his level with a sigh parting her lips. “Fire-water? Kyryll, you’re far too young!”
The boy– attempting to reach for a glass– looks up and pouts, his yellow eyes striking in the backlit light. And Nefer holds in a choked noise that almost escapes her. Blue hair that only reached his lower shoulders, pale yellow eyes, a voice higher than normal… by the moons, was that Flins?
“Here, just plain water for you.” The woman hands Flins– Kyryll, who knows– a less-decorated cup of supposedly water. She adds insult to injury by patting him on the head, giving him another cup. “And take one for your friend as well.” The water is a pale blue, almost silvery, and the woman’s tone is paternal despite her young appearance.
“But Yuna, mother always lets me–” Flins is cut off by the faerie simply walking away, her deep purple gown trailing behind her as she disappears into the crowds. He grumbles to himself, teeth sharper than normal, and stalks off as well.
Nefer’s faced with a decision. Either end the memory right here and forget that it had all happened– a convincing idea considering her current circumstances. Or, if she was crazy, continue playing this out and seeing how the fae tied in with Flins.
The choice seems to be made for her, or at least it’s easy, because she finds herself following Flins without a second thought. The man– boy– was clearly a faerie, which meant that he was keeping a lot of secrets from them. Secrets that could potentially spell out where he would align if trouble came to Nod-Krai.
Nefer almost loses him twice in the crowd; faeries (and humans) of all types and cuts spread out from every corner. The ballroom itself was large and ornate, with a rounded ceiling that had vines hung from the top. In pale blues and greens, with just the faintest hint of a purple haze surrounding everything, it really did feel like a dream. Nefer faintly remembers a play based on faeries that held similar landscapes, but the thought leaves her just as quick as it had come.
“You’re back?”
Nefer should really have a better grasp on her surroundings and emotions while in memories, because this is the second time she’s almost jumped out of her skin. And not just because she was spooked. Both her and Flins turn at the sound, and Nefer swears she recognizes the new boy. Blond hair, long lashes, and shining teal eyes.
By the moons, Nefer does recognize him. Possibly only from the memories she had just seen, but there is no mistaking this boy with the diamond on his neck as anyone but Albedo. Pardon her Fontanian, but what the actual fuck.
Flins’ posture relaxes, his shoulders dropping from their previously tightened state. “I am,” he says easily, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand that they must know each other. “I didn’t manage to snag any fire-water, but I hope this is sufficient?”
“More than, thank you,” is Albedo’s graceful response, and the swift exchange of clinking cups and touching hands makes Nefer shake her head of the confusion. This was real– real as a memory could be– and happening right in front of her. (And now she had a little more understanding of why the two had seemed… closer, than just regular new friends back in present Nod-Krai).
Albedo slips into the chair next to Flins, sitting side by side as they face the bustling party in front of them. They had somehow managed to find a spot away from everyone else, and Nefer knew firsthand just how hard those spots were to come across. Surely if any adult would drift closer, they would want to steal it from the two young boys.
Flins’s head tilts, and she catches how he follows Albedo’s line of sight, how it trailed across each different faerie with a curious gaze. The curve of his eyebrows suggested he was looking for something. Someone? “Looking for your master?”
The bob of his head is an answer enough, and Albedo’s eyes stay trained on the party. “Yes. I was supposed to stay close to her.”
“You’re with me, she probably won’t mind.” He shrugs slowly, eyes flicking from the party and back to Albedo. “Our parents are friends.”
“Still…”
“Stay?” Flins regards him with big eyes, yellow pupil-less eyes that are wide and expectant. Nefer shudders from behind Albedo. (She’s never seen Flins look that way before).
Albedo shudders as well, getting over his trapped words and muttering, “alright.”
They watch the crowds for a second more, which gives Nefer plenty of time to wonder if Ashru was right. Was this a repercussion for using her set too many times? Having to peer into memories that she knows she shouldn’t be snooping in?
Being nosy was part of her job, but this felt personal. So had the last one, but she couldn’t have called it off with all the others there to witness it. It was just her this time though, so why hadn’t she willed herself back? Curiosity? Concern? Interest in the Ratnik?
“Kyryll–”
“Flins.”
“Pardon?” Albedo says, tilting his head at the interruption.
“Please, just call me Flins,” he explains quickly, fingers tapping an odd rhythm on his lap. “It’s easier.”
“I?” Albedo flusters still. Nefer can almost sense a pattern between the two, something simple yet complex. It dizzies her, their quick conversation. “Pardon?”
“Flins is cooler, right?” He smiles, a gap in his teeth catching Nefer’s attention. Even though she doesn’t doubt that the faerie is older than her right here, his child-like appearance is startling. Yes, she knows that all people were once children… but seeing her companions so young? And far, far different than the men they were today.
“Well, I suppose,” Albedo admits.
“Then you can use it,” Flins chirps, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. “In fact, I’ve always wanted someone to use it.”
A hand lifts to a chin in a familiar motion. “Do you not like your actual name?”
Flins huffs, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. “It’s fine. But it’s pretty common among fae,” he says, like the statement could change something. And the way he frowns makes it pretty clear to Nefer that he’s being serious. “I want to be unique. Like you.”
“I’m certainly not ‘unique’,” Albedo is quick to protest, drawing a short laugh from Flins. “And ‘albedo’ is an alchemical term. A placeholder.”
(Nefer doesn’t have the time to ponder that sentence– placeholder– but she makes a mental note to ask the alchemist later. She proceeds to destroy that mental note because asking Albedo would mean explaining how she knew that, and this memory would stay buried with her and Flins. And Albedo himself, if he still remembers).
“It sticks though.” Flins knocks their shoulders together, retracting carefully as Albedo is almost shoved straight off his chair. “Quaint and interesting. Matches your hair.”
Albedo pauses, raising a questioning eyebrow at Flins. “How does a name match someone’s appearance?”
“I… It…” Flins coughs into his arm, the tips of his pointed ears flushing red. “It just does. Here, do I look more like a Flins or a Kyryll?”
“I’d say both?”
“That’s not–” Both Flins and Nefer share a facepalm in exasperation. Nefer drops it in embarrassment while Flins lowers it steadily. “You just look like an Albedo.”
“I’m the only Albedo you know,” the blond points out.
Flins bites his lip and sighs, looking away. “I’m not talking to you anymore.” He stares bitterly into his cup of (water?) and pouts, there’s no other way to describe it. Albedo watches, neutrally, if not a little amused, but allows Flins his silence.
It doesn’t last long. The tapping of dress shoes against marble floors, the swish of coats as he plays with the tail… Flins fidgets to himself and clasps and unclasps his cup. “A shame we can’t drink,” he gives in, keeping his voice light.
“I’ve never had alcohol before,” Albedo responds with, right on tempo and Flins’ ears burn deeper at the loss of their little game.
“Father has let me have a couple sips of his drink occasionally, but I assumed everyone had at least a taste,” Flins says, setting his cup down and swallowing one last drink.
“It isn’t healthy for children. Human children,” Albedo specifies.
“I’m fifty in human years.”
“... I’m not sure what age I am.”
They stare at each other.
“Sooo,” Flins drawls, “we both could drink if we wanted to?”
“If a faerie told you no…” Albedo trails off, lips pursed uncertainly.
Flins grumbles under his breath, thwarted. (For now). “That’s not very princely of you, stjama.”
Nefer, who had been paying attention to every word with a (not sick, not sick) sense of wonder, caught the word instantly. Not Nod-Kraian, or Common Tongue, but something older. Albedo looks equally as confused as she is. “Hm?”
“Your attitude.” Flins swiftly avoids his use of new language.
Albedo takes it without a question, though Nefer has plenty. “My manners are unquestionable. I was taught well.”
“Not right now,” Flins jokes, lips parting in a grin that falls when he sees hurt flash through the blond’s eyes. “I say that in jest, Albedo. You’re one of the politest humans I’ve met.”
“I’m not really human,” he mumbles with a slight blush.
Flins is unbothered by that. “And neither am I.”
Albedo is bothered by that. “You don’t mind?”
“Why would I?” The tension eases from the conversation immediately, almost so Nefer didn’t even realize it was there to begin with. “I’ve seen many creatures around Nod-Krai, and since you don’t seem like you’d eat me, I’m quite content with sitting next to you.”
“It surprises most people, I think,” Albedo says, fiddling with his hands in his lap and looking down. “Master says to at least pretend to be human.”
“I pretend sometimes. They live very simple lives though,” Flins says, and Nefer tries not to vocalize her displeasure with that statement.
“I think they’re quite complex.”
“The ones near us just fish,” Flins complains, leaning back in his chair, which tips on its legs, dangerously close to falling over. “And occasionally stray into the forest– that’s where we have real fun.”
“Taunting them?” Albedo fixes him with an unamused, if not concerned, glance.
Flins gestures noncommittedly. “Playing games. I guess ‘taunting’ counts.”
“Isn’t that rather mean?”
“I don’t think so.” His eyes grow darker in the light, and Nefer feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise at the sudden spike. “They only come into the forest to mess with what’s ours.”
Albedo reaches to touch him, but his hand retracts when Flins sharply turns his head. Both boys quiet, and the party goes on around them, unaware of what has– and will continue– to transpire. “I suppose that’s fair.”
Flins licks his lips, wetting them just to wipe them against the sleeve of his silken dress suit. “Do you want to leave?”
“And go where?” Albedo asks, his voice lilting up, shocked.
“The beach,” he says without any hesitation. Flins scoots in his chair to fully face the young blond. “I can show you the aurora.”
“Isn’t this ball important?” A quick glance around proves that no one is paying attention to them. Nefer hadn’t seen a single faerie interact with the two since Flins had tried to snag fire-water.
“Not for me.” He shakes his head. “It’s just like the others.”
“Won’t Master–” Albedo’s cut off again.
“She’ll never notice,” Flins insists, leaning forward and taking Albedo’s pale hands into his own. “Just a quick break, trust me.”
“I’ve only just met you.”
Flins falls silent, though it doesn’t last long. “I feel like I’ve known you for longer.”
“You’ve only just met me,” Albedo repeats.
“Please?”
Nefer takes the opportunity to glance out the large, ornate windows. It’s dark, as expected, but she can see no glimpses of the promised aurora. There’s always a chance Flins is lying– maybe he’ll try to pull something here? She doesn’t know why she wants to find something. Justification for viewing this memory?
“There’s an aurora?” Albedo echoes her same thoughts just a minute later.
Flins nods, his hair mussing from the vigorous shakes. “Yes? It’s very beautiful, I promise. Such things are meant to be witnessed with another, after all.”
That gets Albedo’s attention once more, and he looks up from his hands. “You quote?”
“Only myself,” Flins replies, breathlessly.
Albedo laughs, and that only serves to make Flins even more breathless; the faerie catching air in small bursts that only Nefer seems to notice. “I’ll go with you, Flins.”
The faerie claps his hands together, rising with a delighted expression. “Then we’ll be off!” He extends a hand to Albedo, even putting the other behind his back like a true gentleman. “Milord?”
“Not a lord–” Albedo doesn’t get the time to finish his complaint, because Flins is whisking him away, the two running off towards a doorway and leaving Nefer scramble to follow them.
She curses to herself, barely managing not to trip over gowns and trains and whatever else the faeries of Nod-Krai chose to decorate themselves with. It’s exhausting, but the adrenaline that pumps through her veins keeps her pursuing the two children.
She realizes, belatedly, that this might be the first time she’s ever chased after a memory. Literally. And only one haunting thought pushes through her mind to the forefront. Fuck, I’m a voyeur.
Lights dance across grains of sand, and colors of greens and blues are reflected back up into the sky that originate from. The aurora is gorgeous, and much more visible now that they’re outside. Nefer’s heels sink into the plush, black sandy beach, kicking up pebbles as she stops a few feet behind the boys.
“I like the colors.”
Flins lets go of Albedo’s hand, nodding to the others’ words with a smile. He plops down onto the sand and rocks, not even bothering to sweep some of the excess out of the way. The disregard for his suit leaves Nefer queasy.
“That’s all?” Flins raises an eyebrow up at him, a short laugh at Albedo’s expense escaping.
“Of course, not–” he rushes to explain, tensing. “I– everything, it’s quite beautiful, words cannot even describe it–” he blubbers on for a second, and Nefer can honestly not understand a single word out of his mouth.
“It’s okay.” Flins silences him with a hand. “Just sit.” He pats the space next to him, turning his head back to the ocean. Expectant, like he knows that Albedo won’t reject him. Confident.
Albedo kneels in the sand, moving awkwardly before he gives in with a sigh and sits normally. He crosses his legs almost instantly, straightening his back despite the slouched position of Flins beside him. Not knowing where to place his hands, Albedo fidgets with his hairpin, unclipping and re-clipping and trying to get it back to its original angle.
“Here, let me, stjama.” Flins holds his hand out for the pin. A purple forget-me-not is dropped into his palm, and Flins takes his time fixing it back into Albedo’s hair. He pulls blond strands away from his face, tucking them over each other and securing the pin, brushing his hands so gently that Nefer has the urge to look away.
“... Thank you.”
Flins settles, leaning back, but the gap between them is broken– their knees touch and they breathe the same shared air. “It’s really no issue,” he says dismissively. “You offer me too many gratitudes."
Teal eyes flick to the side, looking up at the taller with a quiet adoration. “You do too many things deserving of gratitude.”
“I’m just being myself.”
“And the you that you are is perfect.”
Flins’ lips part with no noise. He lets out a soft breath. “How do I react to such praise?” he poses the question to the air and the sea churns with its response.
“I’m not…” Albedo murmurs, the hint of a protest. “... simply being polite.”
“Albedo?” Flins asks, drawing the blond’s attention away from his thoughts once more. The syllables are a caress, spoken through an accent that had long since disappeared. Nefer thinks she can hear the similarities. The lilt at the end– possibly compared to speaking in cursive.
“Flins?”
“We’re missing the ball.” Albedo tilts his head with a frown, both him and Nefer thinking the same thing, though Flins answers swiftly. “Will you spare me a dance?”
Here? Nefer glances back at the dimmed lights from the ball, and Albedo echoes her thoughts.
“We’re not inside, are we?” Sarcasm licks through his words, and Flins smiles toothily. “Of course, here.”
“I can’t dance well,” Albedo objects, holding his hands up in a defense with a startled expression. How Nefer’s own shoes sink into the sand also proves just how unsuitable the area was for a dance of all things. (Another, insistent and nagging, thought supplies that it is romantic…)
“Neither can I,” the faerie admits. “Father gets on my ass a lot for that.”
Albedo lets the use of language drop, still contemplating with wrung hands. “Wouldn’t you rather dance with others?”
“I have no other friends,” Flins says simply. “There is no one I could dance with, let alone want to.”
“I’m the backup?” The attempt at humor is pale at best.
“You’re my first choice.”
“Above another faerie?’
Flins groans, dropping his head into his hands, turning so he can now peer up at Albedo. “Yes. Is it so strange to believe?”
“A little,” Albedo covers a smile, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. “Perhaps you are intoxicated.”
“Do I appear tipsy?” Flins leans closer playfully, tilting his head so he’s able to gaze up at Albedo, who tips back until Flins is almost leaning over him.
Albedo shoves him away, only lightly brushing against Flins, who allows himself to be pushed by the action. “You’re certainly acting so!” They dissolve into giggles as Flins kicks up a handful of sand, spraying both of them with the grains and messing up their little area of the beach.
“Uptight–” Flins chastises, cutting off into laughter as he tries– and fails– to re-steady. “Let me enjoy this!”
Albedo allows him to catch his breath, both settling back down on the now mussed up sandy spot. Dress-clothes are smoothed down, wrinkles pressed back flat, and sand swiped off the edges. Flins runs a hand through messy blue hair, readjusting unruly strands and trying to force them to lie flat once more.
“You don’t go breaking the rules often?” Albedo asks, clasping his hands together in his lap.
Flins chuffs lightly, smirking. “I prefer to remain in the good graces of the elders.”
“As would I,” the blond agrees.
“Dancing with me would not change that,” Flins teases, poking at previously thought-up subjects but never breached. Nefer feels a mixture of embarrassment and intrigue at being able to pick up all the subtle ticks of the two boys. All the things they choose to keep to themselves.
“You’re sure?”
“As the moons in the sky,” Flins’ answer is easy. Quick. Barely breathed before being stolen by the turning sea against their backs.
“Then,” Albedo pauses, letting Flins suffer in silence for a small, teasing moment. “I will dance with you, Kyryll Flins.”
Flins starts, climbing to his feet rapidly and letting practice wash over him as he offers a gloved hand with a flourish. He’s smiling, awkwardly and lopsided, but all the same, with cheeks tinted in red. “I offer you, my hand.”
Albedo accepts the offer and is pulled into a waltz. Even if Nefer had inhuman hearing, she still wouldn’t be able to hear the last fragments of music from the ball above them. They, however, are not thwarted by the lack, and sway to nothing but lone gulls and the ocean itself.
Nefer refuses the urge to twist her hands together in discomfort. Certainly, this memory is not for her. She views it anyway.
“I fear the day you and your master depart,” Flins whispers, and the two are close, so close, that anything too loud would disturb such delicate peace.
“It is inevitable,” Albedo says, always neutral, but his eyes are downcast, lashes drawn over glistening teal.
“You could stay? Here?”
“With the fae?” Is the incredulous response, almost outlandishly. Like the thought had never crossed his mind before.
“You yourself said that you’re not human,” Flins points out, withholding a huff. “We’d accept you. Without hesitation.”
“It is not that which bothers me.” Albedo tries to move away, but Flins reaches for him, clasping a wrist and holding. The blond relents, half-turned away.
“Then what does?” Flins pleads, pathetically desperate in a way that Nefer hasn’t seen yet.
“My master, for one,” Albedo says, and it’s painfully obvious his words are the truth, “enjoys traveling immensely. She’s searching for something that she hasn’t found– something she thinks is still out there.” He brings a hand to his chest, pressing against where his heart is. “I want to be with her when she finds it.”
“Will you come back?” He’s still pleading, but it’s resigned. Tired. He understands, much more than Nefer could ever get just from hearing the words.
“I’m not sure.”
“Can I convince you?”
Albedo takes amusement in that and laughs in short. “You spend too much time talking, Flins.”
Flins only fumes, but his frown is less severe. “And you not enough.”
“You only prove my point,” he adds, and then, “aren’t we here to dance?”
Flins responds by spinning him, lifting Albedo into the air and above the black sand and spinning them both, sending sand in both directions and scattering their laughter. “We are!” he exclaims, spinning until he’s dizzy, tipsily trying to regain his balance as Albedo clings to him with scrunched eyes in delight.
“We are?” he echoes, breathless.
Flins nods, threading his hands around Albedo, around his neck so they’re close, still so close. “Promise me?”
“Promise you what?” Albedo allows the touch, gaze flicking from Flins to his arms, to the sky, possibly in prayer and possibly to avoid looking.
“You won’t forget me.”
“You’ve only known me for four nights.”
“And you’re the only one my age who would approach me,” Flins says, and proceeds to quiet Albedo when he begins to protest. “Promise me you won’t forget me, my friend.”
“Friend?”
Flins looks to the side. “If you won’t oppose…?”
“I don’t,” he chirps, and Flins looks back up with a renewed expression. It’s beautiful, what they have, how it shines so brightly against ancient Nod-Krai. (Lucky. They’re lucky. And star-crossed, if the future has anything to say).
“Then it’s official. You’re my first friend.” Flins leans his forehead against Albedo’s, pressing close and closing his eyes. “So, now you cannot forget me.”
“I doubt I will…” he trails off, shifting from the closeness, but not backing away. He allows Flins into his space. “You’re the first faerie I’ve met.”
“Should I be flattered?” Flins cracks an eye open, raising an eyebrow.
“If you wish.” He giggles, and Flins rolls his open eye.
They move back into a comfortable position, and the lull of the waves is hypnotic. Softening everything into a haze of darkened skies and azure dawns. Albedo leans against Flins’ shoulder, and their hands are entwined in front of them.
“... Gleymdu mér aldrei.”
“Hm...?” Albedo stirs, drowsy, drawn back from foreign words.
“It’s nothing,” Flins shushes. “Rest. I’ll wake you before we have to leave. And I won’t let anything harm you.”
Albedo takes a shuddering breath. “Thank you. Again… Flins.”
Nefer can only swallow thickly as she finds herself back, once more, in her office. She rubs furiously at her eyes, clenching her hands against the wood of her desk.
Ashru has disappeared, but she’s sure that the cat will be around to chastise her in his own way. And Jahoda will need to reconvene for the next assignment… and Lauma had that request she wanted…
Work. More work. But for now, she will get a moment’s rest. Maybe she should go to the beach? She missed the actual sight of the ocean, undisturbed by Nasha Town’s bustle. Hm. Yes. She will do that.