Archive of Our Own ^beta

If there's one thing to know about Sandrone, it's that she's passionate about her dislikes.

She dislikes the rain and how it messes up her braids and her prototypes. She dislikes over steeping tea and inconsiderate or noisy guests during her tea parties. She dislikes--well, many things if she's being honest. She earned her reputation as quick minded and hot tempered to drive anyone who even thinks to look her way, much less put up with her presence, and much, much less to become her roommate.

But if there are things she absolutely hates--it's invading her privacy, trampling her pride, and keeping her in the dark.

Unfortunately, the situation presented before her happens to be a perfect blend of exactly that.

"I'm getting a what?!"

The dorm manager winces, but at least has the decency to repeat, "A roommate, yes."

Even having heard it a second time, she could hardly believe her ears. Sure, the rooms are clearly meant for at least two people, with each room having at least two bedframes, two tables, and a shared bathroom and microwave, but Sandrone has always lived alone. Has always preferred it that way, really. Through hard work such as snapping over the pettiest things like a stray shirt on the floor to annoying the latest victim with her impractical study rituals in the dead of night, Sandrone was always able to defend her solitude before anyone got too close to her. She assumed that the staff saw all these assigned roommates barely lasting at most a month with her and quietly stopped trying. It's how she was able to have her peace afterwards.

Well. Until now.

"It's literally the middle of the semester," she argues. "and your mystery woman moves in tomorrow?"

The manager shrugs.

A spark of irritation lights up in her chest. This isn't a matter that Sandrone can take lightly, not if it means giving up her hard-earned peace. "If she's so rich to be able to afford to switch right now, why not live literally anywhere else? Like a private penthouse, or..." She waves a hand. "whatever those spoiled kids want these days."

The manager sighs. "Due to...special circumstances, it's best for this particular student to be able to live as close as she can to the campus."

She scoffs at that. "I live on the top floor!"

"There are no other openings close to the campus," the manager drones on. "and no one wants to give up their spot because..."

...the alternative is to move out or move in with me, she finishes in her head. Then, she grimaces. From how she sees it, her fellow dormmates are quietly throwing this mystery woman under the bus--or into the jaws of someone who's pissed off from having her territory invaded. Not because she cares, but it's the principle of the matter. Because surely this woman can't be desperate enough to move in with an actual nightmare for a roommate, so it must mean she's simply (and unfortunately) uninformed.

But fine! she thinks as she stomps her way back to her room. Let her come, and I'll show her.

Sandrone slams the door shut. Her room. She carefully takes in the calculated chaos--the stacks of papers and notebooks, her cup that's half empty with tea, and the drawers filled with documents that are organized in a way only she knows how to navigate. It's clearly her room, and no one else's. She hates having to carve out the space for the other half of her room, halving her own space in the process. But to get her blissful peace back...

All that Sandrone has to do is endure for a few weeks or so.

Sandrone probably won't be able to endure for a few weeks or so. She can feel it.

As in, literally feel it. The moment she gets back from her classes, the hairs on the back of her neck raise. Her hand stays on the doorknob to her room, noting how the door was left slightly ajar. As she steps into the room, she feels that the air is heavier as it practically reeks with a floral scent. There are lines of cardboard boxes, scattered near the counters of the kitchenette and blocking the door to the bathroom. Sandrone doesn't mean to peek at her new roommate's belongings, but a few boxes are open, and in them she can make out folded silk nightgowns, hardbound books of poetry and music, and some haphazardly thrown fancy invitations--the kind that have gold ink lining the borders or written on scented paper or some other bothersome thing like that.

Rich, spoiled, and probably a snob. Great. This is going fantastic.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Sandrone marches deeper onward to a scene that's supposed to be her room, but is growing increasingly foreign to her. The more she looks around at the other half of her room--a cutting board made from the finest pedunculate oak, a metal rack with wool and more silk clothing, and hell, is that a mini fridge?--the more she grimaces to herself at how inconsiderate this mystery woman was. What, she couldn't wait for Sandrone to get back before strutting around and scattering all her fancy schmancy stuff like she owned the place? The only good thing from all this is when she notices how there's a portable air conditioning unit at the corner of the room, but still, this is getting on her nerves.

The next thing she notices is Lauma, their resident assistant, cutting open another box before sliding it beside the bedframe. Sandrone's grimace deepens. Great. It's going to be even more of a nuisance if the RA herself is personally doting on this mystery woman--more people coming into her room and all that.

It doesn't take long for Lauma to notice her lingering nearby as well. "Ah, Sandrone," she greets breezily as she stands up and brushes off some nonexistent dust off her pants. "You're frightfully early, I didn't expect you to return yet. Has Professor Prentice taken sick leave again?"

Putting aside how creepy it is for Lauma to casually remember Sandrone's schedule and professors...her jaw tenses. "What," She crosses her arms. "is it weird for me to come back to, oh I don't know, my own room?"

She laughs gracefully. "Oh no, not at all. What I meant was, it is great timing. In fact, if you're not busy, may I request some assistance for moving in some boxes?"

She raises an eyebrow and trails her gaze on the cardboard boxes scattered on the other half of the room, the hallway, the...everywhere, really. Then, back to Lauma. "I think you're doing that just fine."

"Aha, um, yes...well....." At least Lauma has the decency to show some speck of embarrassment and remorse at her tone. "Although, you haven't met your new roommate yet, yes? Here--Sandrone, I'd like you to meet Columbina Hyposelenia."

Sandrone barely represses the urge to roll her eyes as her gaze slides over to the unlucky bastard that'll be trapped with her for the next few weeks. The rich, spoiled snob who dared to strut around her room before she was even here and disrupt her peace. The...

She stares.

This mystery woman was...beautiful.

Although she dislikes social interaction and the throes of fashion and dealing with people in general, Sandrone isn't blind. She still has the ability to appreciate appealing aesthetics, whether that be the beautiful circuits and wiring of her prototypes, the way each gear moves together when they're snapped in the right place, or the shape and form of other people, their features and their body language that happens to catch her eyes.

She can certainly say that that holds true right now. On the bed sits a woman that's around Sandrone's age, her hands folded primly on her lap. Her long hair is as dark as a starless night, then bleeds into a dark red wine color at the ends, which is tied neatly into plaits with white ribbons. A white shawl with indigo accents is draped on her shoulders over her blouse and matching indigo skirt. Sandrone also notices that only knee-high white socks cover her feet, so at least her new roommate had the decency to remove her shoes before coming into her space.

Her eyes are kept closed, and her breathing stays even to the point that Sandrone almost thinks she's asleep until, "Hello," she says, her voice carrying a melody from those two syllables alone. "it's nice to meet you...Sandrone."

Unintentionally, Sandrone's hand twitches, itching to get a hold of her pencil and paper to draw it all down. It's not often that someone makes this strong of an impression on her at their first meeting, after all. But at the reminder that she won't be alone anymore to be able to do so in peace, her annoyance comes back at full force. "Charmed," she deadpans.

Columbina tilts her head slightly, her lips twitching to the side. A...smile? In amusement? Sandrone doesn't know how to read that. She dislikes not knowing the effects of her usual sour attitude with people.

Through it all, Lauma watches on with a wider smile. "Well, now that everyone is acquainted." She turns to Columbina. "I suppose you'll have no trouble settling in, yes?"

Sandrone leans on the wall, her nostrils flaring in annoyance, as Lauma and Columbina continue a conversation of their own--something something, the usual rules and schedules and mealtimes and to-do lists, then more boring stuff. For some reason, Lauma's introduction to this new roommate is longer than usual. Whatever. She's only really waiting until Lauma leaves, so that she can take her space at her table and flop down on her bed. Then, she notices some coats and other items that are definitely not hers, but happen to be in her space regardless. Or what's left of her personal space, anyways. She grimaces even more.

She's not one to turn to divinity much, but gods, give her patience.

────ᛝྀིྀིᛝ ꔻ ᛝྀིྀིᛝ────

It's been a week since Columbina Hyposelenia moved in (seriously, what kind of name is that anyways?), and Sandrone's patience is already starting to fray like a wire under tension.

Columbina is one with many eccentricities--like continuously interrupting Sandrone's work to ask for "help" for something a toddler can do, or lazing around in their room some days even when Sandrone is busting her own ass, or matching Sandrone's messed up sleep schedule just so that she can sing her stupid songs just as she's trying to fall asleep. It's like the woman thinks that everyone has the same amount of free time and leniency as she does.

And she has this strange persistence to ask prodding questions about Sandrone's personal life--which she always shuts down, of course. There's no use opening up to someone she doesn't trust, to someone she can't reliably lean on, much less to someone who'll be gone from her life in a few weeks or so. And, for the life of her, she can't figure out why Columbina is so dead set on doing this in the first place. She dislikes not knowing someone's intentions towards her. It feels too much like...

But she can't just say that. And she can't just snap over disliking the fact that Columbina keeps trying to "get closer" to her. That'd mean letting her win, letting her make more taunting comments, letting her have another piece of information about Sandrone at her disposal. Although she's usually honest to a very blunt fault, she refuses to give any statement that's even remotely related to the truth, as Columbina has proven to be frighteningly good at reading her already. And her complaints about her singing don't seem to work, as the woman takes it as a request for an encore of all things.

So, Sandrone isn't in the best mood. She's been frustrated, and there's no safe way to let it out without getting teased, and she hates that it's actually starting to get to her.

Sandrone hunches over her table, her elbows crumpling her newest draft for a schematic as she presses her palms to her eye sockets. She can still do this. She just needs to focus for a few more hours, then she can take a nap or read that short story that Rosalyne has been pushing on her to read. She just needs to...take a breath in. Then...breathe out. Then breathe in...then.....

"Sandrone," a voice sing-songs right next to her ear as a prodding finger pokes her cheek. "may I ask you a question?"

...Breathing exercises be damned.

She slams her hands on the table then looks over her shoulder, unsurprised to find Columbina looming over her. "What do you want," she grits out.

"Don't you think it's time for you to go to get some rest?" she says, some mockery of concern lacing her voice. How dare her. "It's late, Sandrone."

"Can't you see this is exactly why I'm studying now? Less chances for me to put up with idiots." Except for this particular idiot, she finishes in her head. Grumbling, she turns back to her desk. "Besides, unlike you, some people actually like doing productive things with their time."

She hums. "Still, it's late and you should be asleep," she insists gently, her hands trailing gently along the curve of Sandrone's shoulders before squeezing them. "That must be why you're so grumpy, hm? Aren't you scared of messing up your calculations sooner than later?"

"Me? Messing up my calculations?" Her eye twitches. She shrugs off those gentle hands from her shoulders and jabs a finger at her. "You--"

Columbina snatches up a sheet of paper from Sandrone's table before she can react. Out of bewilderment, she can't even continue reprimanding her as she watches Columbina open her eyes and, seemingly, seriously take a scan of what's written on it. Eyebrows furrowed together and all.

"You..?" Then, she squints at her. "I thought you couldn't see."

"With my eyes closed? Of course not." Something in Sandrone snaps at that, but before she can start reprimanding her, Columbina pushes on. "I can see, just...not very much, nor very well. Like trying to see the world through the hole of a straw. I prefer my eyes closed instead most of the time. It helps me focus on my other senses better." 

Well, that's...that. Sandrone looks away and crosses her arms. "Tell someone who actually cares," she mumbles, but she can't help but sneak glances at Columbina either. For whatever reason, the idiot's still staring intently at her paper. Either she's thinking deeply or trying really hard to decipher Sandrone's handwriting. It makes her feel...

...What, self-conscious? Ha! As if. It's just--it's just annoying, that's all.

Then Columbina says, "You balanced the equation the wrong way and...I don't think your percentage composition is right either."

"Ha?" Sandrone snatches the paper back and skims over it. It's...her solutions for a few practice problems to review some stoichiometry. Why she even took a chemical engineering elective, she doesn't know, but she does know she's not likely to screw up at it even if it's not her focused subject. "No, it's not, it's--" Then, she pauses. "Huh."

Columbina tilts her head at her and smiles in a way that Sandrone knows is entirely at her expense. "So?"

She grits her teeth as she starts scribbling away at the sheet of paper. "That idiot...it's Zandik's fault! Should've known better to trust a guy who's two ticks away from being kicked out..." Grumbling to herself, she admits that at least Columbina seems to have a sharp enough eye to notice that tiny mistake before she had it reviewed. As annoying she can be, that part she can respect.

But then, she pauses mid-scribble. She raises her head and squints her eyes at Columbina suspiciously. "Wait, aren't you a humanities major or something?"

"I know enough." Sandrone scoffs. Right. Like that answer is any specific. "Besides, aren't you going to sleep soon? Your brilliant mind won't be able to work properly without a good night's sleep."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, I'm so touched," she deadpans. "Thank you for reminding me. I can hardly hold my pen straight after knowing that you care about my sleep." When Columbina simply tilts her head, she grimaces. "Go away. My 'brilliant mind' is working just fine."

"Do you have trouble sleeping, Sandrone?" Columbina says, completely ignoring what she said earlier. "It's okay, I have nights like that too. But this plush toy someone gave me, a kuuhenki, it helps me sleep. Perhaps it'll help you too."

She glances away from her paper. Columbina holds up a blue childlike, simplistic plushie with two ears and two long antennae on the sides of its head, and she squeezes it as if to emphasize how soft it is. The stitches on its sides look a little strained, with one side bulging too much. It's clearly been well taken care of for a long time, and she's slightly impressed at how long the thing survived.

It reminds of her own thing she once had, and she called him Pulonia. It wasn't a soft plushie, but rather a small robot, all mechanical gears and sharp metal edges recycled from a ruin guard--her first proud invention. Not that he did anything, aside from fire out paper balls and belt out a simple tune. She was still a kid when she made it, after all. But that tune, and the robot himself, helped her with her sleep for many years. Until she lost him.

Her mood sours at the memory. "Hmph." She glances back to her paper, scribbling even more furiously on it. "That won't help me. I'm not a child."

Columbina hums. "Or would you like me to fix you a cup of tea to calm your nerves?"

She pauses. That actually sounds tempting, especially with an aching sensation starting to form at the back of her neck, but...She turns away from Columbina. "Feel free to waste your time however you want."

For a while, Sandrone finally gets the peace she needs to start focusing back on her schematic diagram. She almost regrets starting it late now, considering the present liability she has staying with her. But oh well. Note to self for the future, she supposes.

A beep startles her out of her trance. She glances at the kitchenette and sees Columbina--

"Did you seriously just microwave a mug of water?!"

The woman has the audacity to tilt her head in confusion, as innocent as a doe in the headlights. "Yes? Isn't that how you're supposed to do so?"

"No! You--" Her pen falls from her grasp, and Sandrone clicks her tongue. Then she sighs, turning back to Columbina. "It's a wonder you've lived this long with how little you know. Really."

"How do you do it then?"

"I borrow the electric kettle from the communal dining room downstairs, idiot," she says, fumbling for her pen that's taking its merry time on the floor by now.

"That seems...inconvenient. And somewhat unhygienic."

"Look, I just--" She pauses, pinching the bridge of her nose, and takes a deep breath in. "Can you please throw that water out? I don't care what you're going to do with it, I am not drinking from it regardless. That's terrible water for tea."

Thankfully, Columbina actually tips the mug over the sink. "Hm...so, I suppose I can't help you for tea," she says, mostly to herself probably. Then, she turns to Sandrone. "Maybe I can sing one of my lullabies again? That'll help you catch up on some sleep, and maybe some of your crankiness can ease off."

"You..!" Sandrone jabs a finger at her, seething. "So you're doing it on purpose!"

"Hmm?" She tilts her head. "Yes, of course I am. I've heard that lullabies help people sleep. Have you looked at your raccoon eyes at a mirror lately?"

"I can't." She buries her face in her hands and lets out a deep, deep sigh. "I just--I can't. You know what? I should go downstairs and heat up some water. For some extra strong coffee. Yeah, that sounds good." She doesn't even like coffee. But it's either that, or something stronger to help her deal with her budding headache.

"Oh, that reminds me," Columbina says, and Sandrone groans. "Could you fetch me a bottle of juice as well? There's a corner shop nearby, right? I'll pay for you later."

She can't pass up a free excuse to get away from Columbina, and she can't pass up doing so immediately either. But just as she swings the door open, she comes face to face with Lauma.

Another one of her roommate's eccentricities. Her local village idiot and the friendly neighborhood resident assistant are frequently together--if not on campus, then more often the latter barging in on Sandrone's room. If she didn't know better (and lots of other students don't seem to do so), she'd think that there's something romantic going on between them. She does know better though, and certainly knows that the way they look and talk to each other says something more intimate and complicated than just dating.

Not that she can put up with any of that right now. And luckily, the RA seems to be able to read that. "I've come for Columbina," she says quickly, probably trying not to test Sandrone's patience. Good. "Is...Is now a good time? I've heard yelling."

"Oh no, now's a perfect time, actually. We're just peachy." Sandrone practically shoves her inside this time. "Good luck with her though."

"Ah, but--"

She practically slams the door shut. Unfortunately, it doesn't stay shut as a sandal stays wedged between the actual door and the doorway.

Sighing, she relents, and the door swings open again, revealing an unimpressed Lauma. She's equally just as unimpressed too, and she raises and eyebrow. "What?"

"That was terribly rude of you, miss Sandrone," she murmurs. Oddly enough, her pink eyes hold a stare that cuts through her.

It makes Sandrone squirm a little, both because it's unusual to see someone like Lauma like that and because the woman looms over her. That is, until she steels herself and raises her chin. "You don't like me," she states. It's obvious enough, with how much she fusses anytime the idiot of the week decides to take it up to the RA. She doesn't like them back either, trying to push away anyone who lives with her and any of their "community bonding" attempts. "What else is new?"

She reels in a little at her response. But if anything, that makes her gaze sharper. "I advise," she says, her tone cold. "that you tread carefully. This is a very delicate situation."

Sandrone blinks at that. That's a first. Still, she supposes even saints have their breaking points. What the hell is her problem this time, though?

Lauma makes a 'shoo-ing' motion with her hand. "Go on, now. I believe you had some 'errands' to attend to."

She rolls her eyes. "Gladly."

Of course, eventually Sandrone has to come back here.

At this point, she's been debating if she should really come back to her room or just brave the humid air in the night and sleep under the dining table. Then again, she's not one to admit defeat that quickly, and it is her room, so here she is standing in front of the door, armed with a bottle of juice, a steaming mug of pungent coffee and whatever fucks she can conjure up in the moment.

It feels weird to knock to go inside her own room, but on the off-chance that something's happening inside she decides to play it safe. When she gets no response, she decides she'd rather chance walking in whatever they're doing to go back to her work instead of loitering awkwardly out in the hallway.

So, she goes in.

It seems that Lauma already left some time ago, with only a plate of cut fruit on the counter to mark her presence. Instead, the sight that greets her is a Columbina sitting on her own bed that looks weirdly...contemplative. She doesn't even react when Sandrone places a bottle of juice on her table. Maybe she's asleep. Whatever it actually is, it means that she's finally being quiet, and Sandrone intends to keep it that way.

Just as she's about to tip the first toe--"Sandrone."

Damn. It was worth a try at least. Unfortunately, the dorm is cramped and her hearing is freakishly sharp, so there's nowhere to sneak to. She sighs. "What."

This time, Columbina's contemplative expression turns into a full blown frown. "Do you dislike me?"

Sandrone blinks. The woman is too stunned to speak. "I...wow." she takes a seat on her bed. "It took you a whole week to notice? What, was I too subtle?"

"Why?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose. Because you're in my room, because you're annoying, because you want to get close and I don't know what you want from me and that's terrifying, because-- "I just do," she says instead. " I don't want you here. I don't want you in my space."

"But I like you," she says. "I find our conversations entertaining."

"Look, we're not going to have this thing where we slowly grow closer until we're all buddy-buddy, alright? That's pathetic," she says. When Columbina doesn't respond, she sighs. "Alright, let me ask you then: why do you like me?"

Columbina tilts her head, taking her time to think about it. She seems to be running a mental checklist, the same way Sandrone did, until she simply settles with, "I just do," she says with a small smile. "Am I not allowed to?"

"Yes," she deadpans. "I'm terrible company. You should know that by now. I'm irritable, I don't care about you to make compromises, I yell a lot, I stay up in ungodly hours of the night and probably disturb your sleep schedule too. So, yes, you shouldn't but you do. Why?"

Columbina merely tilts her head and give her that same irritating smile again.

She grumbles to herself. This is going nowhere. She might as well be walking in circles with this woman. At this rate, she won't be able to get anything done tonight. All the more reason to dislike Columbina, right?

But then again, Columbina's not the first roommate to talk her ear off or try to get to know her. It's hardly an offense, all things considered. Her eyebrows knit together at the thought. If she really thinks about why she dislikes Columbina in the first place...maybe it's how she's different from the past idiots Sandrone was with. Other roommates were easy enough to read, and they had their own quirks and patterns and buttons to press. Other roommates were mostly talking or asking questions out of politeness, or to clear the air between them. It was easy enough to snap at them one, maybe two times to discourage them to do so.

With Columbina, it seems like the complete opposite is true. This woman is encased in a fog of vague answers and even more vague smiles, topped off with that gentle floral scent from her perfume. It's like she isn't capable of giving any other response aside from an amused smile, another taunt, or the most stupid question to ever be asked. And no matter how much Sandrone tries to push her away--if anything, she just seems more keen on getting closer instead for no other reason than just wanting to do so.

So really, the root of it is simply just I don't know you. And to eliminate a threat, one must first understand it, so...

An idea hits her.

"...Hmph. We're clearly going nowhere with this." Sandrone takes a sip of her coffee, preparing herself for a long conversation. "And unlike you, I actually like doing productive things with my time. So..."

Columbina perks up. "So?"

"I was thinking, if I'm going to be wasting my precious time entertaining your questions, it's only fair that I get to ask some of my own." She needs to choose her questions and plan this out carefully. Some plan that can get the most information out of Columbina to understand her and subsequently know how to drive her out, while doing it with the least turns possible to prevent giving away too much of herself. So long as she plays her cards right.. "Of course, we have to answer each other's question before moving onto the next. Otherwise we'll be moving along in circles again. Deal?"

To her surprise, Columbina actually looks excited at the idea. "Deal. In that case...may I ask a question first, then?"

Sandrone tenses up a little bit at it. Maybe it's a little dangerous, running the risk of giving too much of herself away and getting too little in return again, but a deal's a deal. "Don't waste my time."

"What's your favorite song?" she asks. "Or your favorite music genre, if one song is too difficult for you."

It's innocent enough, but...she can't help but feel like this is leading somewhere. She takes a quick sip from her coffee to prep herself for what might be a long conversation. "Classical," she answers. "I like the Romantic era the most."

Columbina tilts her head at that. "Oh. Are you secretly a romantic yourself?" Sandrone locks her with her most unimpressed stare at the question. It's just as a silence descends over them that she remembers that Columbina probably can't see her look, but then she says, "Oh...that's two questions. I'm sorry. What's your question for me?"

"Why do you like me?" she says immediately.

Columbina giggles. "Very straightforward."

"Yes," she deadpans. "And if possible, how do I make you un-like me?"

"That's two questions as well, Sandrone," she sing-songs.

She takes a deep, deep breath in. The nerve of this-- "Then pick one and answer it," she snaps.

"Hmm." That damn amused smile graces her lips again. "No, I'm afraid that's not possible," she finally says, as if it took her that much deliberation. "You can't make me 'un-like' you."

"That's not what I--ugh."

"Next question." She leans forward slightly. "Which season do you prefer?"

Sandrone squints at her. What's her angle here? At this point, she can't make any sense of it. "Autumn, because it's cold but not too cold and it's fun to kick up fallen leaves on people who get on my nerves," she says. "Anyways, what the hell is your deal?"

She tilts her head. "My deal?"

"Like, what's with your..." Sandrone gestures to Columbina's everything. "you-ness?"

"Hmm. I don't quite get what you mean, but..." She tilts her head. "Well. I used to be very lonely back then. I suppose I don't have much experience dealing with people."

Sandrone barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. Why should she care about that? She's been lonely too. Big deal. So she bites back with, "So what, I'm the next bastard you decided to torment with so that you won't be alone anymore?"

"That's an interesting way to put it." Then the smile on Columbina's face twists into something...softer. Sadder. Sandrone pauses at the sight. As infuriating her smiling usually is, especially when it's at Sandrone's expense, this particular one...doesn't fit at all. It looks weird on her. "Certainly better than how I'd put it."

Not knowing what to say, Sandrone huffs and looks away instead. The wall was just getting more interesting than this idiot anyways.

"Next question," Columbina says. "Have you picked up any hobbies recently? Or at all, I suppose."

Alright. She's calling it. "Your questions are weirdly bland and tamer than I expected. " She crosses her arms. "If there's an angle you're working with here, just know that it won't work."

"My angle? I simply want to get to know you, that's all," she says. "There's this helpful list online as well, filled with questions to ask if you're getting to know someone."

Sandrone sneaks a glance at Columbina and, seeing that she's actually looking serious, she huffs. "Yeah, right..." she mumbles, raising her cup of coffee to her face.

A giggle makes her whip her head back to Columbina. She has a hand pressed to her lips, and her eyebrows are knitted together in a way like Sandrone just told a really funny joke.

She glares at her. "Something funny?"

"Oh, no," she says quickly. "And you haven't answered my question yet. About your hobbies."

Sandrone glances at the drawer that holds her sketchpad and mostly scrap paper that got filled with doodles in her free time and-- "No," she says. "I don't have any. I don't have any time for things like that when I'm too busy with my research and getting my degree. Unlike some people who just love lounging around and about..."

Columbina hums.

"...What?"

"You paused," she says. "And I just noticed you like rambling. It's cute."

"Wha--" Heat creeps up her neck and cheeks. "Cute?! I'm not--That's not--How dare you!" She shoots up from her chair and jabs a finger to her. "And you're...you're...."

Columbina tilts her head, and that familiar--irritating--smile of hers comes back again. "I'm..?"

"You--" Then Sandrone stops in her tracks. Calling her an idiot wouldn't do anything, since she'd just shrug it off. Calling her a weirdo probably does the same too. Calling her tone-deaf wouldn't work either, since her singing is actually nice if you disregard the fact that it happens in ungodly hours of the day. Meaningful insults are difficult to make when you know next to nothing about the person, especially one as obtuse as this one. "Ugh, forget it!" she says instead, moving to the kitchenette. "No more questions. I'm going to sleep."

Columbina giggles again, all traces of that sad smile from earlier erased. The tension in Sandrone's shoulders loosen up from that--since when was I tense? But then she sneaks another glance at the idiot, who seems to still be recovering from her mirth, and she huffs. Fine. She'll let Columbina have the win this time.

Sandrone flicks the switch, bathing the room in darkness, before flopping down to her bed. Immediately, the softness of her mattress makes her body weigh twice its weight from the fatigue, and she sighs in relief. Still, despite the cool air from the AC unit, her face still feels like a furnace. It's all that idiot's fault, she grumbles to herself, pulling her blanket up to her chin level. I just need to get some sleep...

But for whatever reason, even though her body is entirely ready to rest, her mind is still racing. Ugh. It's probably from the coffee. And it doesn't help that her head's still stuck on the conversation from earlier.

She rolls on her side, facing Columbina's side of the room. She can vaguely make out her form laying down on the bed too, and it takes awhile for her eyes to adjust in the darkness. In one corner of her mind is an itch that's been begging to be scratched, a question that hasn't been answered yet, but...Sandrone presses her lips into a thin line. Curiosity kills the cat and all that.

...Still, it hardly seems fair that Columbina gets the last answer and the last laugh. She doubts she can sleep with how her mind is still racing. "...Columbina?"

The lump on Columbina's bed shifts, and her face eventually peeks out from her blanket. Her arms are wrapped around that plushie she showed off earlier. "Hmm?" she says, her voice cracked with sleepiness already.

"You still haven't answered my question." Gods above, she sounds like a petulant child. Really, she's...asking just because. Just to even the playing field between them a little. The answer doesn't matter to her anyways. Really, it's just a matter of understanding what this idiot is thinking. The actual answer itself doesn't matter. "Why do you like me?" Not that it matters, she keeps repeating to herself. It doesn't. It really doesn't.

"Mmh..." She hears a gentle sigh. "Because...you're harsh and stubborn."

...Sandrone scoffs at that.

"But you're more brilliant than you give yourself credit for," she continues. "You're smart and actually put the work in. You don't mince your words with me, or treat me like I'm something fragile. You just...tolerate me, I suppose. And you have the capacity to be kind too, even though the first thing most people notice is your bad temper. Maybe even you don't realize it, but...in the short time I've known you, you actually helped me a lot."

She doesn't even know what she expected from the answer, but her mood turns sour at that. "Don't try to make me into someone I'm not," she snaps. "I'm not something you can just fit into whatever mold you already shaped in your head. I'm no saint of yours."

To her chagrin, she gets a gentle laugh in response instead. "I never claimed you were. I wouldn't like you otherwise if I thought you couldn't misbehave," she muses. "But...yes, that is the flaw, right? I'm sorry if I came off like that. I myself know how much it hurts to be defined by what people expect of you, instead of who you truly are."

Sandrone stays silent at that.

"Now you understand why I want to get to know you better. Too much of what I know is from the outside looking in. But I want to be your friend, so...I want to hear what you have to say as well."

Friends.

Those kinds of people are few and far between in Sandrone's life, mostly credited to her sour attitude. The few that she did make, or the closest ones to it, are often after butting heads with them for a prolonged amount of time, or they were more or less stuck together. Better to be somewhat amicable to each other, if things are going to work. That's how it was with Peruere, Rosalyne and Thrain anyways, leading to their tea parties. Heck, one of her past friends was literally her now-estranged brother, so it's not like she's had the best examples of friendship.

But now, Columbina dares to claim that she actually wants that with Sandrone. The nerve of this idiot.

Still...there are worse people to be with.

"...Hmph." Sandrone turns her back on Columbina and pulls the blanket tighter around her, ignoring how warmth creeps up to her neck and cheeks. "Go ahead and waste all the time you want. It's not like I can go anywhere else, anyways."

She hears her giggle. "Right...I'm looking forward to it as well, Sandrone."

────ᛝྀིྀིᛝ ꔻ ᛝྀིྀིᛝ────

It's been three weeks since Columbina Hyposelenia moved in, and Sandrone...well. It's been tolerable, actually.

Don't get her wrong! Columbina's still annoying at times--scratch that, most times. She still tends to sing or hum whatever brainworm is in her head, and it's unfortunate that Sandrone has to be at the receiving end since she's been finding herself unable to focus on her studying most times in favor of just spacing out and listening. She still teases Sandrone, like she's trying to find whatever edge she can push her over, so she's been trying (and failing) to not let it show that it gets to her. She still lazes around in their room some days, like she can afford to just waltz through her academics apparently.

There are weirder times too, ones where Columbina spaces out for a few minutes at a time or her body moves like she's stuck underwater or voice turns too close to a whisper sometimes, like someone turned the volume knob too low on her. Which is annoying because Sandrone has to call her name a few times to get her attention, or strain her ears to even get a wisp of what she's saying.

But, still, there are ways that Columbina makes up for it.

For example, one of the things that Sandrone dislikes is dirtiness. There is a difference between her calculated chaos, where everything is right where it should be even if the logic of its order is only decipherable to her, and actual dirtiness. Sweaty t-shirts left on the floor, outdoor shoes tramping in the dorm room, rotting leftovers and piling dishes in the sink. It's usually the easiest big ticket to hit, as she's chewed out over half of her roommates over matters like that until they got fed up with her particularness.

But Columbina...isn't like that.

No, as much as it frustrates her, even Sandrone has to admit that. Where Sandrone regularly scrubs the floors, drainage, and toilet, Columbina scrubs, sanitizes and polishes everything down to the bathroom faucet. Where Sandrone regularly organizes her outdoor shoes on the shoe rack by the door, Columbina does that and places shoe dehumidifiers on every pair she has. Where Sandrone takes note of expiry dates of leftovers and never leaves dishes out for more than a few hours if she's busy, Columbina marks down the dates and the ingredients, and sanitizes every dish when she washes them (made easier by a dishwasher Sandrone hdn't noticed before).

This dorm room has literally been the cleanest it's been during the entire time Sandrone's been living here, and she can't find a single petty thing to fight about in that regard.

Aside from that, the damn woman has actually proven herself to be more honest than most other idiots. Not that this is a big deal of course--this most likely just means that Columbina is too much of an airhead to even try lying or hiding her feelings. Yes, that must be it. But still, Columbina says these...things..., and for the life of her, Sandrone can't figure out why she's taken to believing her more and more.

"Hmm, though history is interesting in the sense that it's both a record for the past, but also the explanation for our present," she's saying right now as she washes some midsommar berries and lakkaberries. "I think it'd be nice if we get to visit that one gadgetry museum sometime. Academics aside, I know you have a penchant for machinery."

"Yeah right," Sandrone huffs, though she can't bother putting any heart behind it. At the very least, this particular idiot never seems to disappoint, never proves herself to be boring. "Make up your mind. I thought you wanted to have that study session by some stupid garden or something." Then, because her brain filter hadn't quite caught up yet with her mouth, she slips out, "Why do you have all these stupid ideas involving me anyways?"

She merely hums. "I like the idea of spending time with you. It gives me something to look forward to."

Things like...that. After spending most of her life where everyone gets driven away from her, where she's had to learn to prefer that isolation instead of the alternative, it's surreal to actually hear things like that and know that it's meant for her. And Sandrone is just supposed to accept that.

And of course she doesn't. Of course she can't. It almost sounds too good to be true. "Let me guess," she drawls, slouching in her chair. "you have no one else to spend time with, and I just have to be the one who babysits you."

Columbina simply giggles. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Sandrone."

A spark of irritation flares up in her chest, and she hits the refresh button on her laptop a little too hard. "Seriously," she pushes on. "I'm your roommate. You choose to spend time away from the place you spend everyday in just to spend it with the person you wake up to everyday."

"You say that as if we spend that much time together--my irregular schedules say otherwise. But still, all the more reason to do it, right? I think it'd be exciting."

And for all her usual idiocy and spacing out, Columbina has all these roundabout ways on her logic that Sandrone can't find a fault in sometimes. Yes, today is one of those rare days where they're both in the dorms at a reasonable hour of the day because their schedules don't align. They're more likely to be stuck with each other on weekends, because Columbina doesn't go out much and Sandrone doesn't have much of an incentive to do anything else other than focus on her research aside from her tea parties. And yes, it'd be nice to not have to be stuck in a stuffy dorm all the time--all their neighbors have their lives, and even Sandrone has her limits.

That must be the reason, Sandrone rationalizes, as to why the next thing that comes out of her mouth is, "Then come with me on the next tea party."

It's only when the dorm room goes silent as Columbina pauses whatever she's doing that Sandrone realizes how strange those words sound coming out of her mouth.

And she backtracks almost immediately. Her laptop almost slips off her lap as she twists to gape at Columbina for a few moments until her mouth works. "I--I didn't mean it like that!" An almost panicked edge creeps up in her voice. "I just...I just meant that you have all these stupid ideas that sound more like daydreams than reality. Unlike some idiots, I appreciate events that actually happen."

A small frown graces Columbina's lips. "Do you not want to study with me by the garden for a change of scenery, or go to that museum with me?"

"I--" do. I want to. Startled at her actual response, she bites her lip. She can't admit that. That'd be giving too much of herself away. Her arms tighten around herself as she looks away and insists, "Didn't you hear me? I said I appreciate things that actually happen, not just the thought of them. And you--well, the tea party is a matter of convenience really." Then she glances back at Columbina, and the next part almost comes out as a mumble. "It's set around this weekend, when my...my acquaintances are all in the same city."

"I see." She smiles. "A 'matter of convenience' in what way? Do you want to spend time with me that much as well?"

"Don't get the wrong idea," she snaps, but she can't seem to put much heart into it either. "It's a matter of convenience for me in the sense that I can finally shut all those other idiots up. Why should I bother answering all their stupid questions when I can just bring in the real deal?"

"Oh." Then, Columbina places a hand on her chest. "I'm...I'm touched, Sandrone."

"Ha?"

"So you mention me that much to your other friends, to the point that they're curious about me..."

Heat creeps up her neck and cheeks. "Hey, what are you saying?!" Columbina giggles, and her embarrassment flares up even more. "You--ugh. Forget it! Eat your stupid fruit and mushrooms or whatever," she says, waving a hand dismissively.

Columbina giggles to herself. Sandrone dutifully tries to ignore that by going back to her laptop, keys clacking loudly in the silence of their room.

She gets a few minutes of typing in peace, before a finger pokes and prods at her cheek. "Sandrone," Columbina says. "what are you doing anyways?"

"Don't do that," she says, swatting the finger away. "Can't you see I'm busy revising over here?" Then she goes back to her laptop, angrily muttering to herself. "It's bad enough that I have to deal with you when our consultation is a few days away, and worse still with the shitty printers they have on campus..."

She hears a hum from her side. "Lauma said that you're known for throwing such fits, and they had to repair two printers during your time here."

She rolls her eyes. "So what? It's not my fault they barely work. And plenty of students use them all the time. It's bound to happen that a few are going to break down."

"It's just interesting, that's all." Columbina sits on the side of the table, nudging a few papers out of the way. Sandrone's eye twitches. "Is it true? Did you really break them?"

"Do you want to test that theory?" she snaps.

To Sandrone's chagrin, Columbina merely giggles. "I'm saying it'd be a public service if you stay away from them for the forseeable future. Why don't I print out whatever you're typing for you?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," she mumbles. Anything to get out of this conversation, really. Besides, if she's really being serious, it'd be nice not having her papers jam when she's rushing.

A plate is held out to her, with berries and blossoms arranged in a beautiful order.

She looks up from her laptop and raises an eyebrow at it. "...What now?"

"Would you like some? Lauma said these were fresh and gave me these before she left. Out on a date, I presume," she says, an amused lilt in her voice.

"...Hmph. Fine. Thanks." She's not about to be picky on free and offered food, so she takes one of the berries and bites down on it. The flavor startles her at first, because that amount of juiciness coming out of that tiny fruit should be illegal, but against her stubborn pride she can't deny that she likes it and takes a few more.

With Sandrone's laptop forgotten, they both chew on berries and blossoms and mushrooms in somewhat comfortable silence, until Columbina breaks it again with, "Do you know how I can see through your act, Sandrone?"

She sighs. "Alright, I'll bite," she says. "How?"

"I've seen a few interactions between Lauma and her new love once, and it was full of bickering."

She barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. Why should she care about this stuff? "So some lovebirds get into an argument in front of you," she drawls. "Big deal."

"No, it wasn't an argument. There was hardly any malice in it...in fact, I think it was their way of 'bonding', of showing how close they've gotten." Sandrone opts to chew on another berry in silence, waiting for her to finish. "So, when you say ugly words to me too, I think of how nice it is that you're naturally affectionate with me."

Sandrone chokes on her berry. It takes a few tries and a few thumps on her chest to cough it out.

"Ugh..! There you go again, with your weird and stupid ideas," she says, her voice slightly strained. Is her voice really strained? It must be from the berry. That was one big berry. "I call you an idiot multiple times, idiot. You get heart eyes over that?"

"Still, you've never done or said anything to genuinely hurt my feelings even though you're capable of doing so," Columbina retorts. "You even try to keep a somewhat reasonable sleep schedule these days, after I've requested you to do so. I've noticed."

"Don't read in too much on the fact that I've decided to put up with you as my roommate," she says. "Besides, if I don't try to sleep early now, I know you'd pester me anyways. Might as well get over it."

She tilts her head at that. "And you've invited me to your next tea party as well. Is that also required in 'putting up with me'?"

"Keep talking and you'll never see the light of day to attend that tea party," she warns.

Columbina giggles again, but does back off when Sandrone grumbles and glares at her. "Speaking of which, am I supposed to know the when and where of this tea party?"

Slightly grateful for the change in topic, she says, "It's just at a cafe nearby, but I doubt you need the specifics. We'll be going at the same time after all. That'll be one way to make an entrance."

────ᛝྀིྀིᛝ ꔻ ᛝྀིྀིᛝ────

Easier said than done.

Sandrone wakes up and finds their dorm empty for once. There's no singing or humming, no pitter-pattering of soft footsteps, nothing. It strikes her as a little strange, especially since she apparently slept through her roommate doing her morning routine for once, but she quickly shrugs it off. Maybe she has a morning class during the weekend, or some last minute thing. Such are the pains of being an irregular student.

She decides to fluff up her pillow a little bit and go back to sleep. It's not like she's in a hurry for now, since the others will probably take their sweet time to travel. But when she wakes up again in the afternoon to get ready on her own, there's still no trace of Columbina in their room. It starts getting to her a little bit, and she does make sure to leave a post-it note on the counter on where the tea party's taking place. She dislikes people being tardy, but she dislikes their absence even more. She's just making sure that the idiot can catch up so that she can give her an earful for being late, that's all.

The tea party itself happens at a cafe that's just a short walk from the university campus. The booth seats, free wifi, and relatively peaceful atmosphere often makes it a first choice as a study hub for any student that can afford its comprehensive menu of teas and local delicacies. Or, in Sandrone's case, it's a less cramped venue to have some sort of privacy to spend some time with the people she can tolerate while trying out some new blends.

She's already familiar with both the staff and most of the blends the cafe offers, but she makes a point to change her order every time she stops by. This time, she chooses a Liyuean blend that's made from the finest tea leaves grown in Chenyu Vale. Apparently, it has a strong and rich aroma that she's curious about. After all, she dislikes stifling her taste buds if she intends to enjoy herself. Which is already a high ask, considering the company her tea party often invites, but...whatever.

The ones that are already in attendance for said party--Rosalyne and Peruere--already chose their own spots in the cafe. By the time Sandrone takes her seat, Rosalyne immediately leans over and says, "So, where's your mysterious roommate, hmm?"

She huffs. The woman always had a penchant for gossip, blackmail, or any kind of information she generally finds interesting, just in case she needs something to strike with when someone gets on her bad side. At least Peruere has more subtlety and less pettiness for things like that. Still, Sandrone finds a sour taste in her mouth that has less to do with the tea and more to do with the question as she answers, "She's late."

"Really? I half expected you to drag her here yourself, with how much she infuriates you." She traces the rim of her teacup, humming to herself. "Well. Allegedly, of course."

"Ha? 'Allegedly'?"

She rolls her eyes, as if what she's referring to is painfully obvious. Sandrone's eye twitches. "You mention her so much, it's almost as if she's all you can talk about these days. I reckon you already have some childish doodles with her as your muse already, no?"

She presses her lips to a thin line. As much as she'd like to yell at the woman, she does have a point. Whether it's on her sketchpad, or tucked between pages of mathematical equations and haphazardly drawn schematic diagrams, or cramped in the margins of her The Art of Meka Engineering textbook, doodles or even full blown sketches of Columbina show up. It's just that she sees her so often, and her hand draws things randomly when she's bored. That's all. "That's none of your business," she snaps. "Besides, I can't help it if I keep mentioning her when she keeps driving me insane!"

Rosalyne pointedly purses her lips at her and quietly stirs her tea. Even Peruere avoids her meeting her eyes, seemingly more interested in the sandwich she ordered. 

"Fine. Think whatever you want." She huffs and crosses her arms. "When is Thrain coming?"

"I believe he won't be able to attend this time," Peruere says. "He said he has some business to tend to in Natlan. A favor to an old friend, or something of the sorts."

Rosalyne scoffs and waves a hand dismissively. "Well, he's always getting himself caught up in some random business, with all those favors and promises and debts to old friends he says he has. I'm not surprised."

Just as she starts tuning out Rosalyne's annoying voice lapsing into one of her spiels, Sandrone's eyes start to wander. She spots the new barista quietly cursing the teapresso machine before smacking it lightly--gods, hopefully that idiot wasn't the one brewing her tea. She spots a hooded student napping on an impressive spread of papers and notebooks on the table, the cup by their elbow entirely forgotten. She spots two women, one with a cat eared beanie and one with a blue hood, who aren't as subtle as they think they are on their study date. Cringing at their poorly veiled affection and nerves, she looks away.

Then, she spots the door swinging open as Columbina...and Lauma step in.

Sandrone perks up at that. After her roommate just randomly disappeared for half a day, it's a bit surreal finally seeing her. With their RA, nonetheless. Even more so when Lauma seems to be holding on to her arm, and Columbina seems to be quietly ushering her to do something.

"..llo?" Rosalyne waves her hand in front of her, pulling her out of her focus. "Earth to Sandrone?"

She swats her away. "Give me a minute," she snaps, and then she's out of her seat.

Up close, it looks like Columbina's actually leaning on to Lauma instead. She catches a wisp of her voice urgently saying something about being fine, before she shuts up entirely when Lauma warns her of Sandrone's approach. She raises an eyebrow at them both, and for a few moments a tense silence settles between the three of them.

She locks eyes with Lauma, who fixes her with a hard stare. Sandrone blinks, and she's reminded by that...weird encounter they had at the hallway.

Then, Lauma smooths it over with a polite smile. "Well, it's nice to cross paths with you once again, miss Sandrone." She turns back to Columbina. "I'll see you later, then?" One short nod, and she takes her leave.

Sandrone takes a few moments squaring up her roommate who decided to go missing that morning. Honestly, Columbina looks a little bit...paler than usual. And for once, she's meeting Sandrone's eyes with a gaze that says she's not actually there. Instead of the usual shawl that she wears whenever she steps out of their room, it's a white hoodie that's a little too long on the sleeves and bunches up around her waist. Without Lauma to lean on, she looks a little unsteady on her feet as they walk to the table, like she's standing on the deck of a ship.

Maybe it's for those reasons that, instead of directly chewing her out, Sandrone simply says, "You're late."

Columbina gives her that small, sad smile. Sandrone clenches her jaw. "I...know," she says too softly, and Sandrone has to strain her ears to hear her under the hustle and bustle of the cafe. "I'm sorry."

Her foot catches on the leg of a table they pass by, and Columbina tips forward. Sandrone catches her, her hands clutching at her waist and shoulder.

"Idiot," she chides, her voice a little gentler than she intended, as she steadies her. Being this close to her to the point that she can smell the floral scent on Columbina's clothes, Sandrone can barely feel any warmth from her. "Hmph...Don't break your nose before we get back to the dorm."

And instead of shooting her an amused smile, or some teasing remark, or anything, anything at all, Columbina just shrugs her off and continues her slow pace forward without even looking back at her.

What the hell is her deal? Sandrone frowns at her, eyebrows knitting together. First, her roommate disappears without her noticing for whatever reason, then when she comes back she's barely her usual self at all. She's not even talking the same way, she's a lot more timid than usual.

And more importantly...what the hell is my deal? The way she instinctively caught her and held her close...she shudders at herself. She can't even come up with her own reason on why it happened. It just...happened. Then again, it's not like Sandrone's a complete monster. She dislikes getting into accidents or embarrassing herself in public. So there's just no benefit of that idiot getting hurt without reason and putting the spotlight to herself in a public area. That's...probably it.

Nonetheless, she has a weird feeling about this. She decides that she should probably keep a close eye on Columbina, especially as they're both greeted by a cat-like smile slowly spreading on Rosalyne's face as they take their seats.

"So," she leans forward, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "you're my friend's new mysterious roommate?"

"Mmh..." Columbina nods. Or more like, she tips her head slightly forward then back. It's such a small movement, but from what Sandrone can see, it looks like every movement takes a lot on her.

"We've heard many things about you," Peruere adds on.

Columbina slaps on a small, polite smile. It's a little tight on the corners, and Sandrone's jaw clenches again. "All..." She clears her throat. "All good things, I hope..."

"Oh no," Rosalyne says, a bit too delightfully. "The day I hear a compliment leave Sandrone's lips is the day I'd assume she's dying."

"Or possessed," Peruere adds on.

Her polite smile turns into something more genuine and amused, and Sandrone looks away with a huff as a touch of warmth creeps up her neck and cheeks. Someone's feeling better, she thinks, a bit chagrined. Then she almost jumps out of her seat when she suddenly feels a weight on her shoulder--which turns out to be Columbina resting her head on there. Past the mortification of why the hell is she touching me, she quickly takes note of how unbearably warm Columbina's cheek feels pressed up against her shoulder, which is weird considering how cold the rest of her is.

Her train of thought is derailed when she sees Rosalyne with an impish smile on her face at the sight and Peruere sipping from her own cup, no doubt with a similar smile of her own.

"Alright, that's enough," she snaps, and they both quickly wipe off the looks on their faces. Good. "You've seen her already. I think that's enough time wasted on you." And Sandrone's seen enough too. That being, she doubts her roommate can handle this right now. But it's not the main reason she decides to end this tea party early though, so don't get the wrong idea. It's just that she doesn't have the energy to deal with these special kind of idiots as well. With that in mind, she gently shakes Columbina off her shoulder and gets up. "Feel free to finish whatever you're snacking on."

"Well, the party's barely started." Rosalyne frowns. Even Columbina tilts her head at Sandrone, confusion evident on her features. "I've barely gotten to know the woman." 

Sandrone internally translates that as Rosalyne not being able to get to whatever juicy bits she thinks she can get, and she hopes the smile plastered on her face doesn't look like a grimace. "All the more reason to keep in touch for the next tea party."

She grabs Columbina and quickly leaves the cafe before anyone else can get a word of protest in.

"Ugh, can't believe the nerve of that woman...ooh, some days I can't help but want to slap that smile off her face," Sandrone mutters to herself as she speed walks back to the dorm building. "I didn't even get to properly savor my tea with all that yammering she's...ugh, I have to order that blend again next time..."

"Sandrone..." For the most part, Columbina is struggling to match her pace beside her, her feet often catching on the grooves of the sidewalk. In the end, she clutches her arm and says, "I'm...I'm sorry for today. I..." Then she lets out a deep sigh.

She stops, looking as her roommate seems to be gathering the energy to say her words. When she doesn't pick up on where she left off, Sandrone says, "What's wrong with you today anyways?"

"I...can't explain that." She shakes her head. "It's personal....."

She presses her lips to a thin line. "So it's fine for you to prod on my personal stuff, but not when I do the same?" she slips out. At that, she's startled as she catches a glimpse of Columbina's lips twisting in genuine hurt. "I..." But not knowing what to say, not knowing how to say it without giving too much of herself away, she drops it with a huff and continues walking. "Let's just go home."

Columbina even stays quiet at how Sandrone slows down her pace to match with her. Even if it's weird and out of place for her to do so, Sandrone's thankful for that. She doesn't know what she'd say if it got pointed out either.

To fill in the silence between them, Sandrone busies herself with her own thoughts connecting the dots instead. Pale skin, unreasonably warm but also weirdly cold, and fatigue by the looks of it...so Columbina probably has a fever or something. That makes sense as to why she disappeared the entire morning, presumably with Lauma. Sandrone has noticed that their RA has the tendency to dote on her roommate, after all. Well, she's like that with anyone under her care really, but even more so with Columbina.

"Sandrone."

Her gaze snaps back to Columbina. "What?"

"I..." She takes her time gathering whatever she wants to say, and ends up swaying slightly as she walks. Sandrone has to grip her arm to make sure she doesn't drunkenly stumble out to the road and get run over. "All I ever wanted...was to repay my debts back to people," she finally says. "Everyone had such high hopes for me...giving so much for me and my supposed future...it's only fair. I must give back, I..."

Then Columbina trails off and continues walking quietly, like someone cut the power on her and only put her back on autopilot. Sandrone barely represses the urge to huff and roll her eyes in annoyance--there's no reason for this to matter to her, after all. But, seeing how weak she is and how she's trying to genuinely say something and--and how annoying it'd be to try and hear her soft voice if Sandrone talks over her...she sighs and just prods her with, "You..?"

That seems to snap her back into place. She breathes in, gathering her energy again. "With Lauma. Her and her family. With Lumine. And...and now, with you too." Her voice gets quieter at that. "I want to--I will find a way to repay you."

She stays silent at that. No wonder why she keeps pestering about doing this or that for Sandrone. And the fact that Columbina might be more stubborn about that moving forward...she doesn't know what to feel about it.

"I'm sorry that I was late earlier," Columbina says again. "I was...it was out of my control. I really did want to spend time with you and your friends. You sounded like you...had fun."

She huffs, a bit of warmth creeping up her neck and cheeks. "Don't think that sorry excuse of an apology gets you off the hook," she says, but her voice strains as she struggles to put any real heat behind it.

Columbina smiles at her, amused. At least it's like a bit of her actual energy is starting to seep back into her. That's...good. Just good. "Of course not," she says wryly.

"Hey, I'm serious," she tries to warn.

She hums, tilting her head. "Are you, though?"

"Columbina!"

The sound of her giggle carries over on the rest of the way home.

Still, it feels...awkward to be here at their room, for once.

It's not even that Sandrone is mad at her for being late to her tea party. It really doesn't mean that idiot is off the hook though. It's just...well, she finds herself hesitating this time. Sometimes there's just a time and a place for things to happen. So, she doesn't say a word when Columbina immediately enters clean freak mode, insisting that she brushes off some non-existent dust or arranging perfectly positioned things. It's one of her eccentricities, yes, but considering what she said earlier, Columbina's cleaning is probably less out of necessity and more out of soothing herself. Or making it up to Sandrone. Or...something like that. She opts not to think too hard about it.

Instead, she busies herself with preparing some food for the idiot on the off-chance that she didn't eat. She takes out some apples and berries, and tries to focus on not accidentally cutting herself because of some dumb fruit. Tries not to think too much about how weirdly quiet Columbina is this time, with hardly a word hummed. Still, it's starting to get to her. After what happened earlier, Sandrone thought Columbina was doing better already. Still being sick, probably, but at least well enough that she doesn't go mute without any prompting.

So, Sandrone sneaks a glance at whatever Columbina's doing...and finds that she isn't doing anything at all. She's just sitting on the floor, staring at something.

"Columbina?" Thinking that something is seriously wrong, Sandrone rushes over. "Hey, you better not die on me."

Then, she pauses.

Stacked on her knees and sprawled about the floor were papers. This doesn't strike her that strange at first, since her roommate has the tendency to start arranging things on her own and Sandrone's long accepted it (begrudgingly, of course). First, she takes note of the drawers left slightly ajar on her table--weird, but sure. Then, she takes a closer look of what those papers actually are, and her heart drops down to her stomach.

Columbina is looking at Sandrone's sketches.

Sketches of people and their terrible postures while studying in the cafe, of people bumbling around down on the streets, of people holding and greeting and hugging each other. Sketches of Rosalyne belting out her stupid affected laugh, of Peruere peacefully sipping her tea, of Thrain trying out a "cool" pose that his old friend apparently showed him. Sketches of Columbina, of her looking out the window, of her humming to herself while heats up her food, of her curled in on herself as she sleeps. The muse of those particular sketches caresses the pencil markings gently, juxtaposed by her intense and steady gaze, as if she's mapping out and memorizing the lines.

"Beautiful..." she says in awe, mostly to herself. Then, she turns to Sandrone, seemingly able to sense her even though she's been quietly freaking out on where she's rooted. "You're an artist. These are the things you draw?" Columbina says. It sounds muddled when it reaches Sandrone's ears. Her own head twists Columbina's words until it sounds tainted by the same cautiousness and disappointment she remembers clearly. "Why? What are you--"

Sandrone snatches the papers out of those hands, shoving the rest away with her foot.

At least she has the luxury to panic first in her head. No one was supposed to see this. She tries to take in deep, even breaths. Tries to calm down, and remember that things are different this time, remember that she's by herself this time.

She fails.

Said roommate seems to be pulled out of her daze, her hand raised as if it's unsure whether to reach out or to surrender. "Sandrone..." she tries to start. "I didn't--"

"Out." Her own voice sounds foreign to her for once--not bursting at the seams with unbridled rage that demands to be heard, but a soft command laced with coldness and callousness. The same coldness and callousness she was used to before she got out. "Get out, Columbina."

Columbina looks stricken at that, and she hesitates. Lingers.

It feels difficult to speak with how tight her jaw is, how her chest heaves with heavy breaths as she barely restrains herself from hyperventilating. Her own thoughts are spiraling and tangling into one another. But she squares her shoulders and looks at the woman in the eye. Weakness can be shown later--when she's alone. "I'm not going to repeat myself."

Static is already starting to invade the corners of her vision, and she barely registers the sound of the door swinging shut as she's left alone. In a fit of rage, she almost tears up the papers in her hand and throw them out, but instead she slaps them back on her table before digging her nails into her scalp.

She wants to scream.

She stuffs everything back into her drawer and slams them shut instead. Rosalyne once tried to psychoanalyze why Sandrone did these types of drawings in the first place--her stupid conclusion being that Sandrone wanted to capture what warmth she could get from other people, being oh so lonely and isolated and pushing other people away and all that. Sandrone calls bullshit. Her reasons for drawing is her own business, and similarly her sketches are for her eyes only.

Gods, this was why she didn't like people. They're idiots. She doesn't want them, she doesn't need them. Everyone is always out to get someone or get what they want from someone. She knows it. She's lived through it herself. And she can guarantee that no one, no one wants to go through all those walls just to hear some sob story. No one wants to look for the little girl, quietly asking for help. The only thing that child is going to get from someone else is ridiculed and judged, and she'd deserve it. She deserves it for being so damn naive to believe that for one second. Sandrone hammers that again and again in her head, until the base of her skull throbs, until her eyes start to sting.

"Too much of what I know is from the outside looking in. But...I want to hear what you have to say as well."

Sandrone lets out a choked breath. Damn it. Columbina is probably one of those kinds of people, isn't she? Did Columbina really think they were growing closer? Being friends? Don't make her laugh. As if Sandrone actually wanted to grow closer to her, as if she actually wanted to spend time with her outside, as if she'd actually break down and cry in Columbina's arms and be like gods, please, I just want to be held, it's been so long--

That's it. Sandrone bolts up from her bed, grabs her jacket, and yanks the door open. That is it.

She's ending this arrangement.

She doesn't care how ridiculous she'll look arguing with management. Sandrone didn't want this in the first place. She didn't want her sketches to be seen, didn't want her privacy invaded, didn't want a fucking roommate to even begin with--

Of course, to start with, she has to find said roommate first. But then, the weather decides to turn at that exact moment as dark clouds blanket the sky. She curses, extending a hand out, and the small droplets trickling between her finger soon turns to heavy rain beating down against the rooftops. Great, she grimaces to herself, this is going just great. Her man hunt is going to have to pause right here for now.

As she slowly walks back up to her room to grab an umbrella, Sandrone takes the time to reflect about how it all went wrong anyways. How she even lost her main gripe with Columbina. How she, slowly but surely, let her guard down. Maybe she got a bit too comfortable. Maybe she was lulled by the constant presence of lullabies guiding her to sleep on her trying nights, or their constant back-and-forth, or even just the mere presence of her gentle floral perfume wafting through the air. Constant reminders of another person's presence.

The anger dissolves into confusion for a moment. Because, for the life of her, she doesn't know when, why, or how that stopped being terrifying for her. Having another person in her space meant judgement, invasion, and the loss of control. Having Columbina in her space, though...she doesn't get it. Isn't Sandrone constantly judged and teased by her habits? Isn't not knowing Columbina's next move or intentions a sign of her loss of control? Isn't the fact that Sandrone started to entertain her questions, to believe her nonsensical statements even for a moment a sign of Columbina invading her life?

And yet...she finds that she actually doesn't mind it. Not this time. Not when it's Columbina.

Sandrone clutches her head. Because that's--not...No. That shouldn't be. She should be pissed at Columbina. She is pissed. For a lot of things, really. For all the times Columbina didn't listen to Sandrone to stay away--and for actually listening, just this once, to leave. Archons wept, she's so easy to abandon once the claws come out, isn't she?

She shakes her head. She is pissed off. But she can't put all the blame on the other person. That's not a fair and factual assessment of this situation. Not this time. It was Sandrone's fault in the first place for letting her close the distance. Besides, Sandrone can't be the one to kick her roommate out. They actually had a decent thing going on, so long as Columbina actually learns to know her place. It'd be a form of admitting defeat if she's the one to end this arrangement anyways. She's the one who pushes people out. It's just what she does.

Sandrone takes a deep breath in, pinching the bridge of her nose. Ugh. This is why she shouldn't think so much...now, as her anger disappears, so does the determined and sharp pace she set when she stepped out. Now, her feet drag across the ground as her thoughts weigh heavily down on her, her movements sluggish. So tired. All that spiraling earlier, all those reminders...she's just ready to get it over with.

She just wants to find Columbina, and then go home.

The rain is still as punishing as ever when she steps outside again. This time though, Sandrone opens her umbrella and starts slowly treading her way through the streets. At least the sounds of the rain pouring, the busy traffic, and the cursing she does when she bumps into someone do a terrific job of distracting her from other unnecessary thoughts. It's almost as if she's on autopilot, walking through the crowded sidewalk.

It almost makes her miss that glimpse of a familiar jacket and hunched over figure.

So, Sandrone slowly comes to a stop in front of the bench of a bus stop. The reason why is sitting primly on one of those benches, with her head resting on the metal pole and her eyes closed. Her jacket looks slightly drenched, seeing as that was her only protection against being suddenly caught in the rain. Sandrone makes a point to walk slowly over as loudly as she can to announce her presence, and she grimaces as some water splashes up to her skirt. Ugh. More reason to go home as early as they can.

But, on a closer look, she finds herself hesitating. Columbina's chest rises unevenly with each audible breath she takes in, and occasionally her breath stutters as she coughs. Her eyes are screwed shut, eyebrows pulled together, which is probably why she doesn't acknowledge Sandrone. The silence shifts, and suddenly Sandrone doesn't know how to break it at all. Columbina used to be the one to reach out first.

Still, Sandrone soldiers on, and tries to play it off as casually as she can. "You know there aren't any buses coming by today, right?"

Columbina's eyebrows jump at the sound of her voice, as if she wasn't expecting her to show up. To be honest, Sandrone wasn't expecting it either.

At her lack of response, Sandrone presses her lips together, hesitating. What is she supposed to do now? "You look terrible, by the way."

A small twitch on her lips. That's all she gets before Columbina squares her shoulders, keeping her face impassive. No...not impassive. Cautious. Like she's tugging at the bars of a tiger cage and wondering if she can trust them. Don't be like that to me. It's not like you, some childish part of her wants to scream.

And thus, she comes back full circle into her original question--what now? She wracks her head to figure out an answer. Some amazing answer to answer all the questions and have some sort of fairy tale ending. What could that be? She doesn't know. She's not like Rosalyne with the dramatics to pull off long-winded soliloquys, or Peruere with her patience to explain things in a way children can understand, or Thrain with his broody ruminations about honor and duties and such. So, she offers her simple answer directly: "I draw because I like looking at people."

That finally gets a reaction from Columbina. She tilts her head, mouth slightly agape like she's not sure what to say, but Sandrone will take it.

"About your question earlier," she clarifies. "About why I drew. It's not some...big philosophical reason that changed my life or something. I just--" She crosses her arms. "I just draw because...I like looking at people."

Columbina manages a weak, "Sandrone..?"

"Ugh. Don't tell me you're one of those types who like to psychoanalyze every little thing?" She rolls her eyes, but indulges in that train of thought for a while anyways. "Rosalyne likes to think it's because I don't spend enough time around people. As if I'm the one who's so desperate for company when she's the one inviting herself to--"

"Sandrone," she interrupts. "I..."

She stops, raising an eyebrow at Columbina.

"Maybe...I don't have the right to say this, but..." She shifts, fidgeting with her fingers. "I didn't like it when you pushed me away."

Ah. Sandrone blinks at that. Right. To Columbina, it must've been pretty strange to get angrily cast out like that then have the person who was mad at her casually come up to her like that. "What's wrong with you today anyways?" she asks instead. "Usually, you would've pushed back at that a bit harder. Today, you just walked out like..."

Like it was that easy to give up on me, her head helpfully whispers to her, and she presses her lips to a thin line. Ugh. She pushes the thought away. Who the hell would want to be around a sourpuss anyways? That was supposed to be the point. She was supposed to actually like the isolation. But...

Columbina smiles sadly at her. "Usually. But it didn't seem like...our usual tug of wars, the ones we have for the sake of exchanging blows. It felt like something more serious, more...intimate had been violated," she says. "Like I've...reached out to trace a beautiful reflection...only for the glass to shatter at my fingertips...I always ruin everything."

On instinct, her hackles raise at that statement. I'm not made of glass, she wants to snap. But this time, she holds back. She tamps down the kindling in her chest.

She wants to hear what Columbina has to say this time.

Because with the way she's staring at Sandrone, she's never felt more exposed before. It makes her want to shy away, to build her walls up higher and higher until even Columbina can't read her as easily. But then she gets past her own discomfort and sees that Columbina's struggling too--she's still struggling to get the words out, and her breathing is noticeably ragged as she gathers herself.

When Columbina can't muster up the strength to speak, Sandrone breaks the silence. "I just--" Then she stops herself. Almost. She feels ashamed to admit it. But it's only fair--an eye for an eye, and a heart to heart. Even out the playing field. "I just didn't like how you invaded something that was private to me. Obviously." Then she backtracks. "The drawings mean nothing to me," she says a bit too quickly. "But you can't just go in and out around my stuff because--"

Then she really stops herself. Just knowing the fact that Columbina can, apparently, come and go in her private space and have this much leverage in her private thoughts actually scares her. Even more so that she's giving away this much of herself right now. Even much, much more so that she's nearly forgotten this fear when it comes to her roommate.

"For what it's worth--" Columbina's voice genuinely sounds raspy right now. Then a harsh cough jostles her. Then another. And another.

Then, she goes into a full coughing fit, clutching her abdomen as she doubles over. 

Her eyebrows furrow together. Columbina must be freezing, what with getting caught in the rain and having these strong winds brush past them. And considering how weak she already was earlier... "You can't handle this right now," Sandrone states factually. "We should--"

"No." Sandrone blinks at that. Columbina coughs a few times, steadying herself on the metal pole, before she manages to rasp out, "We are doing this now."

The firmness and heat put behind that single word alone sounds so foreign to the Columbina she's usually used to. There's a certain anger that Sandrone's familiar with in the way Columbina claws at her chest. Anger not in anyone in particular but for herself. Despite how familiar it is, seeing it in Columbina of all people makes her reel in. That's the only reason why Sandrone relents. "...Okay."

When she does speak, her voice sounds like the vocal equivalent of sandpaper. "I am sorry," she says. "I was supposed to...repay your kind invitation that I've barely...accepted..." She coughs again. "And now, I've made you fetch me out in the rain as well..."

Sandrone glances at her, and notices her walls weakening against her. "Don't get the wrong idea," she mumbles. "I was just...taking a walk out to clear my head and saw you being pathetic here. That's all." The words slip out on instinct. Of course, the amused smile Columbina gives her tells Sandrone that she obviously doesn't believe that flimsy excuse, and she huffs. "I'm not letting you off the hook though. Let's get back. I'm freezing my ass here."

She nods, and stands up, wobbling against the metal pole.

Sandrone curses her damn umbrella for choosing that particular moment to malfunction on her, until it finally opens. "Alright, there you go," she mutters, mostly to herself. Then, she turns back. "Let's--"

"I feel so tired," Columbina mumbles from behind her.

"Yeah, yeah, so am I." She hears a thud nearby, and hopes that it isn't some stupid tree that fell down. That'd just make this bad day worse. She glances back behind her. "Don't fall asleep on me though, I--"

Her breath catches.

"Columbina!"

Time slows to a crawl under these harsh hospital lights.

That's what Sandrone doesn't like about hospitals. The air is too sharp with the smell of disinfectants, the lights burns into her eyelids even if she closes her eyes, and all sorts of tools spill out of various metal carts and trays scattered around the hallway.

She doesn't know what happened. All she knows is that she took Columbina by taxi to the nearest hospital, where she practically broke down the doors for help. A nurse came by, then a doctor, who barely took a glance at Columbina's name and face and his clipboard before shouting a bunch of instructions and ushering Sandrone out to some lounge. Which...probably doesn't mean good, now that she thinks about it.

Distantly, the loud discussion behind those doors barely register as static to her ears. That is, until those doors suddenly burst open, making Sandrone flinch in her seat. Then, her gaze steels as a very familiar, very unwelcome figure walks out.

"Hello, Sandone," Lauma says, offering a small smile this time. She looks a bit run ragged--her carefully brushed purple hair is tangled, and her usually pristine simple dress is now slightly wet. Her sandals are definitely soaked though. "I would say it's a pleasure running into you again, but...under these circumstances, perhaps not."

Gone is the piercing, cold gaze that Lauma usually reserves for Sandrone. Instead, it mirrors the same kind of exhaustion she feels. Sandrone lets her guard down. "...Yeah," she mumbles. "Ditto."

The dingy hospital seat groans under the added weight when Lauma gingerly takes a seat next to Sandrone.

Sandrone crosses her arms and looks away. She still doesn't know what to feel with this woman. She knows it's definitely not friendliness, and the sentiment's the same the other way around. They're stuck with this tense air between them, with only the murmur of hospital life around them filling the silence.

"You know," Sandrone finally breaks the silence. "I didn't think you'd be the type to take hospital calls like this."

Lauma lets out a small laugh. It sounds a little choked out, and nowhere near as gentle as Columbina's. Sandrone's jaw ticks. "Yes, it does seem strange. But well, I am her emergency contact." She fiddles with her rings and bracelet. "I...have some explaining to do."

"Yeah, that'd be helpful," she deadpans.

"I don't know how much she told you, but...Columbina is ill." Sandrone rolls her eyes and is just about to say that much was obvious after that incident, but then Lauma clarifies, "Chronically ill. Her own body is rejecting her. Her immune system attacks her joints, her healthy cells...I believe her partial blindness was caused by this as well when she was young."

The past few hours have really taken a toll on Sandrone. Her brain is still processing that as she says dumbly, "But she just has a fever right now."

Lauma shakes her head at that. "Even something as simple as a fever can wreck her entirely." She opens her palm, traces the lines, scratches a spot. Rinse and repeat. "She has no way to fend it off, not with her condition and the treatments she needs to manage it."

And everything falls into place for Sandrone. The irregular schedules. The constant cleaning and careful inventory of their food. The days where she's just (as Sandrone assumed back then) lazing around. The constant pestering about Sandrone needing to take care of herself. Columbina always came off as someone gracefully traipsing through life with all the conveniences she has, like a swan to water--but underneath the surface, she's been paddling all her life to keep herself afloat. Sandrone grimaces at herself.

"You were never meant to be her caretaker, of course," Lauma adds, probably taking Sandrone's silence the wrong way. "I'm...loathe to admit it, but she looks much more alive these days with just having you as a roommate. I hope this impromptu visit to the hospital doesn't impose on you too much."

She huffs. That last part was probably tacked on considering Sandrone's track record with her impatience. "I don't are about it," she says. "Besides, someone once told me I haven't lived the college life or something without at least one hospitalization."

At that time, she merely brushed it off. Rosalyne just finished gossiping a funny story about some poor guy who got his cylinder stuck in a plastic tube and had to pay the hospital a visit. Except this time, this hospital visit isn't funny at all. She saw how Columbina's skin was bone-white, and heard the ragged breaths her chest struggled to push out, and felt how her body was getting wrecked with shivers despite how hot her skin was to touch.

She rubs the bridge of her nose, shaking away the memory. "So you're the caretaker, huh? You have to deal a lot about this." At Lauma's nod, Sandrone harrumphs. "Figures. She was talking about paying you back or something."

Lauma heaves out a heavy sigh. "Sometimes, I wonder if we did her right," she murmurs. She seems to be talking to herself, staring at the doors where Columbina is probably in. "When she came to my family, presumably left by her own, I questioned if she understood what unconditional love was. She was always too eager to give, but never as keen to receive, as if she thought herself to be taking too much space already.

"All these years, I wonder if we ever truly reached her," Lauma says. "If she ever understood that we love her, regardless of what she was taught before and regardless of whether or not she has something to give back." She smiles tiredly. "I...don't know. I'll keep trying, I suppose."

Sandrone presses her lips to a thin line. At least Columbina has someone who stays and tries, the lucky bastard. That's definitely more than Sandrone can say for herself. Something twists in her chest at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She takes a deep breath in, and the weird feeling goes away.

The door bursts open again, and the two women stand at attention for news. A single masked nurse ushers for Lauma to come closer, and they start speaking in hushed tones.

Which leaves...Sandrone awkwardly standing out in the hallway.

For the first time in a very long time, Sandrone is hyper aware of how out of place she is here. She fidgets. Why is she still here anyways? She probably has no use here. An extra side character taking up unneeded space. What even is she to Columbina? The nurse and doctors help her, Lauma is her caretaker and friend and family, and Sandrone is...what? Just the one who brought her to the hospital? If that's the case, this should be the part where bows out and exits the hospital.

But more importantly, more damningly--what is Columbina to her?

Because Sandrone factually knows she doesn't need need be here anymore. And yet, she lingers. Hesitates. Her feet are glued to the grimy hospital tiles, and her ears strain for any wisp of information she can get from the hushed conversation. ("Flare-up"? "Risk of pneumonia"? "Low chance"? What does that mean?) A vice squeezes around her, making it hard to breathe, to think, as the thought of not knowing enough and not knowing what to do overwhelms her.

The most damning of it all is how the vice around her chest loosens when Lauma turns to her and says, "Would you like to come with? I have a feeling that she'll want to see you too."

For now, she pushes those thoughts away and silences that part of her head. "Better hurry up then," she says, already ahead of her. "I don't like wasting my time."

The hospital room is a cage, but instead of metal bars, the constraints come in the form of heavy curtains blocking the window and door. Instead of metal cuffs, an oxygen mask and an IV drip is what chains down its prisoner.

And Columbina is barely awake.

She doesn't open her eyes though. The only way Sandrone can actually says she's awake is how she slips out a slow murmur, and Lauma goes to her side at once. Lauma gingerly brushes away some strands of hair sticking to Columbina's face before placing her hand on her forehead. A quiet conversation occurs between them, where Lauma hums or nods and Columbina offers the barest wisp of words she can muster at the moment.

Sandrone opts to linger near the doorway to maintain some distance from them, and she looks around the room.

Soon, they seem to be wrapping up their conversation and Lauma nods to her. "She wants to see you as well."

She nods hesitantly. When she comes to the side of the bed, all the words that her smart brain can muster up is, "Hey."

Columbina's eyes slowly flutter open.

Her clouded lilac eyes stare back at her. Her breathing is still ragged behind her oxygen mask, and her hospital slips a little off-shoulder, revealing how her collarbones bulge against her skin. That diet of tiny fruit slices that she loves so much probably doesn't do any favors to add some padding. In the fog of the medication and whatever pain she's still in, it takes awhile for her to react.

When she does react, it's to raise her hand. "Sandrone..."

Her voice comes out as a soft croak, and the only thing Sandrone remembers is how her voice as she sang or hummed her songs used to easily fill their room. The same hand that used to gently tease and caress her shoulders or poke her cheek now shakes as she raises it, as if it's struggling to gesture for her to get closer. She leans in anyways, and says, "What?"

"Mmh..." That smile of hers seems to be out of relief. She can't really tell with the oxygen mask on. But then, there's no mistaking that twinkle in her eye that shows up next--amusement. "Adorable..." she breathes out the word. "...and obedient."

She flushes, heat creeping up her neck and cheeks. On instinct, she's tempted to snap at her and deny that repeatedly, et cetera. Then, she takes in the way Columbina's chest stutters as she takes in each ragged breath, and she sighs. "You're high. Idiot," she mumbles. She doesn't even bother putting any heat behind it at all. "It must be all the medication you're taking in. How much pain have you been in?"

She breathes out again, and that twinkle disappears. Her eyes slowly flutter shut, as if the simple question alone brings that much exhaustion to her. "'M used to it..."

Sandrone presses her lips to a thin line, and she pulls away. She ignores the way Columbina's eyebrows jump as she leans away from her touch. "I should let you get some rest. Your...Lauma is here to take care of you anyway."

"Mmh..." She bites her lower lip, eyebrows squeeze together, as if she looks pained at the thought. "Will you be...visiting..?"

She pauses at that. One part of her still wants Columbina to stay away from her. The other, she doesn't know that well. So, she huffs instead. "Give me one good reason as to why I'd visit you," she says.

Columbina smiles again, and the tension on her face relaxes. "So...you will. I'll look...forward to it....."

For the first time in over a month, Sandrone comes back to an empty dorm.

She doesn't know what she expected when she flicked the lights back on. Like...what? Like that entire thing in the hospital was just a dream, or something? Like she didn't actually see Columbina turning pale, struggling to breathe, barely getting the words out? She doesn't know. What she does know is that it feels weird actually seeing that she's alone, but also not really. The dorm room is empty, but Columbina's clothes are still on the rack, Columbina's neat and organized notes are on the table, Columbina's indoor slippers right next to hers, and yet...

And yet.

Even her own thoughts are eerily quiet. Sandrone sits down on her chair, staring at the empty bed across her. For all the times she's wished that she was alone, that she'd finally get her space back, this...loneliness...feels different, somehow. Oppressive.

But isn't this what she wanted?

She got her peace and quiet and privacy back. At the cost of no longer waking up to the sounds of humming or the soft pitter-pattering of footsteps to fill in the silence. At the cost of no longer having gentle fingers poking her cheek for attention. At the cost of that lingering floral scent in the air slowly fading away.

At the cost of no longer having Columbina here.

Sandrone sighs, cradling her head in her hands. What is wrong with her? Archons wept, she can't make head or tails of what's going on in her head anymore. She should be happy. She should be okay. This--well, yeah, it sucks that Columbina's in the hospital, and she hopes that she's going to recover. But she was going to push her away regardless. No matter how much she actually hesitated doing so earlier, it was still going to happen.

Sandrone is always going to end up alone.

So, she should be accepting that fact already. She should be working on her research again. She should be excited in having all the time in the world to sleep whenever she wants, without having someone pester her about her health.

What she should not be doing is continuing to stare at the other side of the room. What she should not be doing is having her gaze roam around the bed and the table, exactly as Columbina just left it, until her gaze falls on to the plushie on her bed.

It's still laying down on her pillow, with the folded blanket draped over it. She scoffs to herself. Typical. Of course Columbina of all people is the sentimental type to treat plushies like the real thing. What was its name again? Coo-something. She remembers Columbina mentioned something about it helping her sleep...

The Sandrone remembers how Columbina asked her to visit. Not really asked, but more like declared that she would visit on her own. She brushed it off, of course, because why would she? She has better things to do with her time. She isn't needed or wanted. So she shouldn't. Of course she wouldn't.

But then, she's unable to tear her gaze away from that stupid plushie, and she folds her arms across her chest. She won't visit, really. It's just--well. She thinks back to how Columbina sleeps with the damn thing every night. And she thinks back to Columbina's expression when she asked if she was going to visit.

Then she thinks...Well, Sandrone grimaces, arms tightening around herself. It's not my fault if she forgot something that important.

────ᛝྀིྀིᛝ ꔻ ᛝྀིྀིᛝ────

It's been over a month since Columbina moved in, and a few days since her hospitalization. Don't ask Sandrone why she's dragging her feet across the grimy hospital floor. She couldn't rationalize it to herself either.

And she even has that stupid plushie tucked securely under her arm too. While it got her a few weird and definitely more amused looks, the nurses said it was okay for Columbina to take short visits for now. She huffs. That damn idiot better be happy, she thinks to herself before pushing the door open.

The afternoon sunlight filters in through the drawn curtains. A bit of sunshine perfectly illuminates the lump that stays still on the bed. Sandrone takes a deep breath in, getting a faceful of the scent of disinfectant, then moves closer.

"Hey."

No response from the lump on the bed.

She moves in closer. Columbina must be asleep since her eyes are still closed, but then she spies a twitch in her eyebrow. So she tries again. "I brought your stupid plushie by the way," she says, placing it by her side. "To help you sleep or whatever. Gods know what you'd do without it."

Finally, Columbina stirs to life, and Sandrone's chest lightens up. The idiot heaves out a ragged breath, and rolls onto her side to weakly sling an arm over the plushie. "Mmh...kuuhenki..."

"Right. Kuuhenki."

"Luonnotar..."

"Or Luonnotar. Whatever. Just--" She waves a hand dismissively. "I thought it might help. So that's that. See you."

That's all. That's all I'm here for. She grits her teeth. Just turn around and--

Just as she turns to walk out, she feels a small tug on her jacket sleeve.

Columbina is actually looking at her this time, and in the silence lies a question she can't muster the words to say.

Sandrone huffs. "You can't seriously be expecting me to make this a habit?"

She blinks slowly. Just once.

"...Fine." Sandrone crosses her arms. "But don't you dare push your luck."

Columbina lets out a short breath that she interprets as a shorter version of her usual giggle, and she closes her eyes again.

Sandrone drops a small notebook on the bed.

This time, Lauma is keeping watch on a chair beside the bed. She's in between the pages of a heavy hardcover book, but Sandrone's presence clearly isn't lost on her. "Unfortunately, you caught her at a bad time," she says, not looking up from the pages. "She's still asleep."

She huffs. "Whatever. I'm just stopping by before my next class."

Truthfully, she doesn't know where to spend her time. The cafe quickly drains her wallet, the library has too many people and too many people fuck in the stacks at times, the study rooms are cramped and hot and smelly, and so on. In the past, she'd usually spend her downtime in their room, but...

A sharp breath and a noise from the bed draws their attention.

"Columbina?" Lauma places her book down and shifts the blanket a bit. "Are you alright?"

"Mmh..." She shifts slightly. "Heard talking...didn't want to miss anything..."

At least there's some color back on Columbina's cheeks. She overheard Lauma and the doctor talking about them being worried about the risk of pneumonia, but by the looks of it, so far she's doing okay. The mask on her face is more out of precaution more than anything.

Columbina shifts again. "Sandrone..." Her head tilts in her general direction. "You're here."

She crosses her arms. "I came by to drop your notes. Apparently, that Fontainian brat in your philosophy class heard about you being here--not from me, by the way--and she gave me this."

She hums. "...Give her my thanks," she murmurs. "You look like...you want to leave soon..."

"That's all I'm here for, anyways," she says. Really, it sounds like she's saying it more for herself. "Anything else you need from the dorm?"

Her eyes flutter open at that, eyebrows squeezed together. "...So that you can...stop visiting..?"

Sandrone harrumphs. "I have better things to do with my time, y'know." Like her research that she's been neglecting lately. Or the tea party invitations she's dodged out of hosting. Or...ugh.

"Mmh..." Columbina rolls on her side, pulling the blanket tightly around her. "Not telling," she says. "Figure it out yourself..."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever."

The next few times that Sandrone repeatedly comes by, she reasons that it's because she really needs a quiet place to study.

At least in this room, only the quiet beeping of machines and the hum of the air conditioning. There's the occasional cough from a sleeping Columbina, which makes Sandrone grimace. In annoyance, of course. It distracts her from her studying, reminding her that Columbina isn't out of the woods yet.

Today is no different, until she spies a shift in the blankets at the corner of her eye. "Go back to sleep, Columbina," she says, looking up from her laptop. "And no, I didn't bring anything this time, and no, it's not because I miss you, I just need my notes."

"I didn't even say anything yet," she murmurs, traces of exhaustion still lacing her tone. At least that mask was taken off this time, so the small, almost childish pout at not getting the first jab is apparent.

The corner of Sandrone's lips tick up at the sight. That's a good look on Columbina. Serves her right. She goes back to typing and says, "Go back to sleep."

She hears some shifting and she glances back. Apparently, Columbina decided it was more comfortable to lay on her side so that she can face Sandrone. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

She sighs. Her next class is an hour later, but it's a half an hour walk to that class on-campus. While it's nice not having to pull another all-nighter to screw fluid mechanics equations into her head, no one really cares about attendance anymore. What's worse is that the professor has a perpetual slow drawl while lecturing and takes ages to get on with it. So...

For some reason, her thoughts must show on her face, because then Columbina smiles.

She huffs and looks away, a touch of warmth creeping up her cheeks and neck. "Better make it a 20-minute nap."

"Mm." She pulls the plushie closer, nuzzling on it's head. "Good night, Sandrone."

"Yeah. Night."

"Ah, Sandrone," Lauma greets her by the door this time. "You're here again?"

"Don't get the wrong idea. Some of her professors just wanted a document about her time here at the hospital and had to pester me about it." She carefully doesn't mention how she barely put up a fuss against it. She already got enough comments about that from the professors themselves. Nosy old bats. "I'm here to make it her problem."

The light smile that Lauma gives her says thst she clearly doesn't believe that's all. But then, she casts a sideways glance, and her smile tightens around the corners.

She raises an eyebrow at that. "Is now a bad time?"

"Not exactly. I might need your help, actually." She opens the door wider. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

Curiosity piqued, she steps inside. It's not often after all that she sees Lauma looking like she can't handle something by herself.

On the bed, a downcast-looking Columbina laying down on a mountain of pillows with a meal set out in front of her. Well, Sandrone can't really tell what that expression is, considering that her eyes are still closed. But judging how the food and the silence in the room are both untouched, she harbors some guesses.

She stops by the foot of the bed. "Hey."

"Sandrone." She tilts her head forward in greeting. "Have you eaten yet? You should be taking care of yourself."

Is this idiot really pestering her about her health when she's the one hospitalized? "Big words coming from the big girl on the hospital bed," she bites back. Then, she pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath in. "But clearly you haven't. What, are you trying to extend your stay here?" she drawls. "Is their service that good?"

"Too good, unfortunately," she says wryly. "It's too much for someone that's just me."

Immediately, she thinks back to that conversation where Columbina was talking about giving back what she owed. The same stupid logic probably applies here. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Oh wow," she deadpans. "the whole world is impressed by your noble sacrifice to not eat some mashed potatoes. I can barely hold back my tears at your selflessness." Then, she scoffs. "Seriously. That logic doesn't even make sense."

Because it doesn't. Everyone has taken something from Sandrone, and in turn she's taken from them as well. That's just how the world works. And sure, she can try to understand someone who tries to give freely to save themselves but people like Columbina confound her. Why give at the cost of their own selves? It's not as if everyone is going to be as kind and naive as that. It's just a lose-lose situation overall. It should be perfectly fine then, for Columbina to take something in return, even if it's only to meet the barest requirements to take care of herself.

"You know that the nurses are willing to remove your IV." Lauma says somewhere from her side when Columbina stays quiet. "But you must eat and take your meds yourself."

She hums. "I'm aware. The meds I can do. But, it's just..." She starts picking at the blanket.

"You don't need to die on me from starvation," Sandrone snaps. You can't take care of someone without taking care of yourself. But she doesn't say that to Columbina. That sounds like she actually cares. What should she say to her to persuade her? Something about how idiotic she is, or how Lauma still wants her around, or-- "Besides, I need you."

Her eyebrows jump at that. "You need me?"

Even at the corner of her eye, she spies how Lauma whips her head to Sandrone as well.

"I mean you're useful," she hisses. Really, the hissing is at herself because how did that slip out? The back of her neck and her cheeks burn as she tries to soldier on, "It was nice not having my papers jammed while it lasted. Seriously, how hard can it be for a printer to actually print stuff?"

Columbina's lips twitch. "I loathe to imagine the kind of torture you've put those printers through in my absence, actually."

Lauma eyes them both in confusion. "What?"

Sandrone smiles grimly at that. Oh, it was torture alright. It doesn't help that their research defense is coming up soon. But anyways. She harrumphs and squares her shoulders. "So?"

Columbina pokes at the fried meat with her fork, probably cold at this point. "Well..."

She's clearly so, so close to just eating the damn food already. Sandrone looks back at Lauma. Despite looking a little out of place in their conversation, Lauma meets Sandrone's eyes and gestures back to the stubborn woman.

She sighs. "Remember," she drawls. "the uni doesn't have enough budget to replace another printer if I break it."

The small twitch of Columbina's lips spreads to a small and amused smile. Then finally, finally, she starts eating by picking at the berry bits.

"Thank you," is what Lauma mouths when their gazes meet again, and Sandrone tries not to flush from that gratitude.

"Another visit? Careful, Sandrone. Someone might say you're starting to miss me."

She rolls her eyes (and tries to ignore the heat creeping up her neck and cheeks) at Columbina's teasing tone. "Be quiet."

It's probably the last day of Columbina's stay here, considering how Lauma has an extended discussion with the doctor in their office. And it shows in Columbina herself. There's color back in her cheeks, and she's sitting on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. One of her arms is hooked around the kuuhenki, squishing it to her side.

There's a giggle from the bed. "Whatever happened to 'don't push your luck'?"

She huffs, and there's no fighting against the blush that's surely visible. Curse her pale complexion. "Fine." She stands up and makes a show of going to the door. "Bye then."

"Nooo!" Columbina stretches out a hand to stop her, shaking as her giggles transforms into an actual laugh that she slips out. That makes Sandrone genuinely pause in her tracks. Then Columbina stifles it behind her hand, calming down from her mirth, and says, "Don't go. Please?"

Sandrone blinks. Then she remembers that she needs to actually respond like a normal human being. "...Fine. You did say please." The door swings shut. "You're lucky I'm feeling nice today."

"Mmhm. Thank you," she says, clearly amused. "You're so thoughtful, Sandrone."

"Uh-huh."

"Positively generous."

"Yep."

"Incredibly charitable."

"...I guess."

"Magnanimously--"       

"Columbina," she hisses. With how hot her entire face feels, she's probably doing a fantastic job at cosplaying a fire hydrant right now.

Columbina giggles again, but at least she has the decency to try and hide it this time.

Archons wept, this woman is going to be the death of her. It takes a few moments for Sandrone to cool down and to feel safe walking to the bed. The chair skids in protest when Sandrone plops back down on it. She can literally feel how Columbina is itching for another tease so, desperate to ignore her, she opens her laptop, and taps the side impatiently when it boot up slowly. "Lauma sure is taking her sweet time," she mutters.

Columbina hums. "I hope she does. I missed having you around." She mindlessly traces patterns on the blanket with a finger. Then, softer still, "I miss you."

Something jumpstarts in Sandrone's chest at that, and she slowly raises her head to look at Columbina. It feels strange how thready that thing in her chest beats. Like she swallowed a bucketful of coffee, and she doesn't drink that much coffee. Usually. Then, she looks away and clears her throat. "You do know Lauma's discussing when you can get out. Probably better if it ends as soon as posible."

"True. It's just so boring being chained to bed here," she muses out loud, flopping back down on the bed. "The nurses are nice, but it's the boring kind of nice. The food is okay though, but I've been wanting to try a new combination of pumpernickel bread and onion dip and it's not like I can waltz out here to get it."

Sandrone snorts. "Poor you."

"Poor me, indeed." She hums. "I still prefer your constant angry taps on the keyboard, and whatever flimsy excuse you've made to disguise your kindness."

There's that hammering and pounding against her chest again, and she has to pause. Her fingers twitch. A blank document blinks back at her.

"Well," she starts. The words feel stilted in her mouth. "it's not like I'm going anywhere anyways. I'm still going to be here for you. For better or worse." 

Silence. The hum of the air conditioning fills in instead.

Then, Sandrone jumps when a warm weight falls on her shoulder. Strands of dark hair tickle her cheek, and her brain almost short-circuits as she breathes in that gentle floral scent. "Wha--"

"You didn't complain last time, but I wasn't able to savor it," she says. Her voice sounds small, it's so unlike her. "Is this...okay?"

The laptop almost falls down on Sandrone's lap, and she barely has the braincells to brace it with her hand. For a few moments, they just stay in that position, with Sandrone frozen and Columbina climbing halfway out the bed to rest her head. She doesn't even know if she's even thinking anything, or if she's too busy getting reacquainted with that perfume that's long since faded away in their dorm room. It takes her a few more moments to notice how tense Columbina is, like she's bracing herself.

Silently, she leans closer to the bed. Columbina adjusts, letting out an appreciative but questioning hum.

And Sandrone thinks, shut up. But the thing caged in her chest doesn't. She didn't even know that thing still beats. With how long she's spent willingly cloaked in other people's criticisms, she almost believed she was heartless too. She shakily lets out a breath. "20 minutes," she murmurs.

Columbina hums again, and Sandrone starts typing on her laptop.

It's been nearly two months since Columbina first moved in, and finally, finally she's back in their room.

Lauma helps with what little stuff she had in the hospital. Sandrone tries not to eavesdrop so much on their conversation about reminders to eat, to take care of herself, and to show up for another appointment to see how her progress is doing. It's none of her business anyways.

Once the door closes and the two of them are alone, Sandrone huffs and crosses her arms. "You sure took your sweet time."

She hums. "I missed you too, Sandrone."

She rolls her eyes. "Of course you did."

Columbina is pacing around languidly, like she's savoring the view and whatever's changed in it. Not that there's much to view, with how cramped their dorm is. Not that there's much that changed either, since Sandrone didn't touch a single part of her side of the room. She's not in the habit of disturbing other people's stuff too, after all.

Except for one small thing.

Her arms tighten around herself as Columbina picks up the tiny gift set gingerly on top of her desk--a wrapped loaf of pumpernickel bread, and a container of onion dip that's still wafting a bit of steam in the cool air of their room.

Then, Columbina looks back at her, eyes wide open. Those lilac eyes stare back at her, partly in surprise and mostly in...in.....

Sandrone's arms tighten around herself. How the hell is she supposed to read that look? Her hackles raise. "If you were expecting some sort of grand reception when you came back," she snaps, looking away. "then sorry to disappoint you. I happen to not care enough to actually try. You're lucky that I even--"

"Thank you."

She freezes in the middle of her scolding. Her claws loosen their hold around herself. She swears that her neck creaks as she hinges her head to look at Columbina again.

Gratitude. That look on her eyes...holds gratitude. Even the small smile on her face isn't at Sandrone's expense, but one that Sandrone can only really describe as soft.

"I didn't think you'd take what I said seriously. I don't even know where you got this bread. You even made the dip yourself, didn't you?" she says. And suddenly, Miss Pushy over here looks shy, closing her eyes and dipping her head slightly. Is she...blushing? "So, um...thank you. I didn't prepare anything for you though..."

She huffs, suddenly feeling like she's got the wrong footing here. "Idiot. That's not--you don't need to do that." It comes off as a mumble more than anything, so she clears her throat and raises her voice. "Besides, my ears are going to fall off the more you go on about how you're craving this or that. So don't get the wrong idea, alright?"

"Right." Columbina raises her head a little bit, enough for Sandrone to glimpse at that familiar amused smile on her face. "Of course."

She grumbles. At least the damn idiot is happy, she thinks to herself as she sits on her bed, watching Columbina marvel at the thing like she's given her the secrets of the universe. Then again, she supposes, it must feel good to finally treat those tastebuds to something that isn't stale and bland hospital food.

"For the record," Columbina says, sitting on her own chair and carefully tearing open the wrapping on the bread. "I prefer this over any grand reception, anyways. Flocks of people coming to me after I recover from flare-ups typically drain me more than needed. It's easier to just feign sleep instead, to fend off the heat, the exhaustion, and any of the pending social interaction I might get."

"Hmph. Guess that makes sense..." Some part of her is itching with curiosity about what her illness even is, but she tamps it down for the meantime. Instead, she watches as Columbina quietly. She's never seen anyone this excited for dipping pumpernickel bread in onion dip, but Columbina does make a case for it. She snorts.

"Hmm?" Columbina looks up at the sound. Her cheek bulges out on one side, her lips holding an almost chidlike smile. Then, she holds a piece out. "Do you want some?"

"No, no, you have, uh..." Sandrone points to the corner of her own mouth, before realizing Columbina probably can't see it. "You have some crumbs on your mouth."

Gone is that ghost on the hospital bed struggling to catch her own breath. The one in front of her is the more familiar one instead, the one with a variety of smiles and airheaded answers. And for once...Sandrone finds that she doesn't hate it. She doesn't mind sharing her space. Having Columbina back feels like finally putting the missing piece in the puzzle. Like slotting in the last cog in the machine, before everything goes smoothly.

────ᛝྀིྀིᛝ ꔻ ᛝྀིྀིᛝ────

Living with Columbina now is...weird.

Some things don't change, of course. It's still the same routines. Columbina still disturbs Sandrone out of her morning naps, and still sings or hums as she heats some microwaveable food or does the dishes. Sandrone still angrily types or scribbles away at any scratch paper in her mercy, and still curses out the stupid water that refuses to come up whenever the weather drops down to the single digits. They still clash with each other; Columbina still teases, and Sandrone still snaps at her.

But some things are definitely new. On the days that the dishwasher acts up, Sandrone does the dishes and Columbina dries them off. On the days that both of them are free somehow, they spend their time talking with each other. Recent trends (of which Columbina barely keeps track of), university drama (of which Sandrone starkly tries to keep out of), or bonding over shitty professors that make their lives worse. 

And there's another thing, she knows. She knows how differently she's been acting towards Columbina these days as well. Like the fact that Sandrone doesn't mind Columbina getting physically close with her anymore. Or the fact that Sandrone struggles to put any real heat behind her threats. Or the fact that Sandrone openly uses her sketchpad more in the dorm, knowing that she won't be judged for it.

Or...

"It's cramped in here, and I don't want it to smell like sweat," Sandrone says, turning the AC on when Columbina's quiet groans ratchet up from the heat.

"Give me that knife before you embarrass yourself from trying to cut fruit," Sandrone says, pulling the knife and chopping board away when she spies Columbina's hands trembling too much.

"Here's some medicine. Your coughing is distracting me from my studies," Sandrone says, gently placing the care kit on the side of Columbina's bed when her cough comes back with a vengeance.

She doesn't even know why. She has to grip onto a thread of her usual vitriol, because the alternative is embarrass herself by showing that she--by making the other person think she cares. She throws out flimsy excuse after flimsy excuse, and it still falls flat to her own ears. Columbina easily sees through it too, accepting each one of her botched attempts with a "thank you" on her lips, if she even has the energy to muster her words up that day.

And that small smile, like it's growing softer and softer by the day.

And maybe getting a compliment thrown her way too. Which Sandrone always denies, of course.

Still, it depends on what kind of day it is for Columbina. And today, judging by the fact that her bed is made and the dorm is empty by the time Sandrone gets up, it's probably a good one by the looks of it. As she sits up and rubs her eyes, she notices a steaming cup of tea on her desk. Her curiosity drives her to get up the rest of the way and examine the cup.

The tea is the right kind of warm as she holds it, and the scent of roasted nuts wafts over as she swirls it. She takes one sip of it, swishing it around in her mouth.

Not perfect, not as much as she'd like, but pretty damn close.

Sandrone sits on her chair and savors the tea.

...Making the tea is a new thing too. And with how Columbina got up again without her noticing...she's not sure if it's the good kind of new. Still, if that woman was able to get up early and brew this cup, she's most likely okay. Probably. She's doing okay.

Her throat tightens, and suddenly the tea doesn't sit right in her stomach. The steam must've gotten into her eyes too, with how her eyebrows furrow together and how her eyes water.

Right?

The door opens. "Sandrone, are you awake?" Columbina's voice calls out.

The tea burns down her throat as she accidentally sips too fast. She sputters, coughing and thumping her chest to prevent certain death.

When she looks up, she finds Columbina standing by the kitchenette with plastic bags digging into the bend of her elbows. An amused smile is on her face. "The tea wasn't that bad, was it? I promise I didn't microwave the water this time."

"Just swallowed too quickly--" she rasps out, and coughs one more time into her elbow. "It's fine. I'm fine. Where were you anyways?"

"Shopping," she says, setting the bags down on the counter. "We ran out of meals. Though I did buy some cheese, if you're fine having that for breakfast."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Sandrone mumbles.

See? Columbina's fine. Whatever conclusion her head suddenly jumped to earlier was clearly based on flawed and biased data. Slightly chagrined with herself, Sandrone opts to open up her laptop instead to find something to occupy herself with. It turns out it's easy to find a distraction, as she's quickly engrossed in revising her research paper in the last minute. Why her professor even chose to change the formatting at the last second, she doesn't know, but the frustration is easy fuel for her fingers to fly over the keys.

Then, she pauses.

Columbina...is singing.

Her voice easily fills the room, almost making Sandrone forget her frustration in the first place. Without spite to fuel her motivation, she resigns herself to the fact that she won't be able to focus. She turns away from her laptop and watches quietly at the private performance instead. It's...different from the nursery rhymes she usually sings. The melody crests and falls gently, drifting to higher notes before settling down into lower tones. Her voice chants the lyrics as easily as breathing. The motif repeats again, like treading down a spiral staircase, lulling her in the familiar rhythm...Sandrone's mind is a bit fuzzy on the edges--a feeling she now knows is sleepiness.

Then, the song ends too soon.

Columbina hums a little to herself. "I can feel the weight of your gaze on me, Sandrone," she muses.

Sandrone blinks. Then, she huffs, quickly focusing back on her laptop. "Don't be absurd," she says. Is it just her, or is the room suddenly hotter? Ugh. "It's just...it's been weeks since you last sang." After all, just because Columbina got out of the hospital doesn't mean she was fully recovered. Still, she quickly adds, "Your voice fills up the room too easily. Not like I have the luxury of ignoring that considering how tiny our dorm is."

"You know," Sandrone can practically hear the amused smile in Columbina's voice. "for all the complaining you do, I've yet to see you buy some ear plugs or noise cancelling headphones."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Thanks for the idea. Definitely doing that now."

"If you wanted to do that," she says. "you would've done so already. It's one of the things I like about you. You don't need anyone's permission to do something."

Or to take something, she thinks to herself. She doesn't know what to say to that. Not because she hadn't heard that comment before--hell, she's heard it so much, it's practically a cliche--but because she hadn't heard it without the usual envy or spite behind it. So she stays quiet. The itch in her mind turns more obnoxious, and she decides to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Give me an answer then."

"Hmm? About what?"

She pushes her luck then. "...What's it like for you, anyways? Your illness, I mean." she asks. "You freaked me out--I mean, anyone would freak out when you suddenly pass out."

Columbina stays quiet for a very, very long time. Sandrone almost questions that she might be getting lost in her own head again, or that Sandrone might've intruded on something that she isn't ready to talk about. That is, until Columbina speaks up.

"How much did Lauma tell you about my illness?"

Sandrone blinks at that. That easy? She expected a lot more pushing back, at least... "Not a lot. Something about your immune system going haywire, but that's about it."

"Hmm..." Columbina leans on the counter. "I was diagnosed with my illness in my late teen years. Unfortunately, much irreparable damage has been done then, so the only thing I can do now is manage my symptoms," she says. "It's difficult without my daily medication. The heat turns the ache into a persistent throb, the fog in my head makes it difficult to focus...and so on.

"Of course, this makes it difficult for the people around me too. I once heard Lauma discussing with her family--financial issues, I think. I was quite fortunate to have her family take me in, and I didn't wish to use their kindness excessively. So I told them I was okay and requested to stop my day-to-day treatments for now." She sighs. "My plan is to...finish university, start a career, and then continue my treatment once that's done."

"That's stupid," she mumbles. Then, louder still, "Your body is going break down during the time you're not on meds."

"I know. Lauma said so as much." Sandrone scoffs at that. Something that she can finally agree on with that woman. "I see no problem with it. My body will deteriorate regardless. The only question is how much it hurts...and I'd rather not burden the people around me."

And there's that stupid logic again. Does this woman have no sense of self-preservation or anything? Like the world is going to be as kind as Columbina in what it takes--death, greed, time, life itself gnaws on any poor soul that gets caught up in its rabid fucking teeth. How the hell has she been living like this without being taken advantaged of? Or--worse yet--how come she's gotten screwed over, and still insists on the same thing? A spark of irritation flares up in Sandrone's chest, but she zips her mouth shut.

The conversation lingers in the air for a few moments, probably because Columbina expected Sandrone to say something. She probably should say something to break the ice, until Columbina asks, "When we first met, what did you see?"

Sandrone blinks. "I..." She fumbles with her words. What kind of question is that? "I don't know. I saw you."

Except she does know, but not in words. There's an oil pastel portrait tuck away in her sketchpad, gradients of white and indigo contrasted by dark maroon, dated on the day that Columbina moved in. There are angry scribbles on the corners, notes about her eccentricities, but the portrait itself is mostly left untouched.

She hums at that answer. "I see. Perhaps you saw what most people see--a fragile thing, something to tiptoe around. An object of curiosity. Or maybe graceful figure with how I hide it, one worthy of admiration.

"What most people don't see are the steely bonds I bear and the tumultuous sea underneath. They saw the pain, yet neglect the wound itself. As I thrashed and flailed against the tempests, the waves filling my lungs, strands of my being tore off and sank to the depths. My doctors understood that, though they can't see the raging sea, I was not allowed to sink. That would not be a trip I can survive."

She blinks at that. "That, uh...that sounds rough."

A giggle. "It is. That's why I like you, Sandrone. No, you do not see the oceans as well, nor do you pretend to do so. You are steadfast in the things you do know, and curious about the things you don't. An enigma out of all the people I've met."

"Which isn't a lot, to be fair," she mumbles.

"True. I prefer it that way. So many people are fooled by what they see, and forget that what truly matters is what they cannot. Still, I hope you weren't too bothered by the secrecy. I don't like telling many people, and Lauma respected my wishes."

She presses her lips to a grim line. Her pride is a little pricked and her hackles raise at not figuring it out sooner, at having to be told like a toddler. Like she's just playing catch up. Because if she'd have known, she would've been less--no, she still would've been that much, but--just---

Different. Sandrone would've acted differently.

Which is exactly what Columbina doesn't want.

She lets out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her face with a hand. Well, that and Sandrone was basically a stranger when they first met. A hostile one, at that. She can definitely understand not wanting random people knowing her private details. So it's...ugh, she can't even hold onto her annoyace this time. "It's whatever," she says.

Columbina hums. "But I have noticed how you've acted lately," she says. "You don't have to feel obligated to take care of me or anything. I didn't tell you that to garner pity, of all things."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't do pity. That's a waste of my time and energy, y'know," she says. And truly, it is. She knows that Columbina is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. But then that does beg the question of why am I doing this then, and the answer lingers in the back of her head--which she dutifully pushes away. Not now. Instead, she says out loud, "What makes you think I'm doing this for you? I'm doing it because it'd be more trouble than it's worth if you ended up in the hospital again."

A giggle, because of course she sees through it. Damn her. "Right, right."

"I'm being serious, Columbina," she deadpans.

"And I fully believe you, dear Sandrone."

Heat creeps up her neck and cheeks at how casually Columbina pulls that out. She huffs, and focuses back on her laptop instead. With her curiosity satisfied, she quickly finds herself engrossed again, her fingers flying over the keys. Even the beeping of the microwave and the scent of melted cheese aren't able to break her focus.

Her focus finally breaks because of two things: a plate of grilled cheese sandwich placed on her table and a prodding finger on her cheek.

"Sandrone."

She sighs. "Out with it already."

"Would you like to come to game night with me?"

"...Ha?"

"Game night," she repeats, as if that alone makes it quite obvious. "A good friend of mine is coming to the city. Originally, she wanted to visit me in the hospital, but now that I've been discharged, so it's a celebration instead with a few other people."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "I thought you said you didn't want a grand reception or anything like that."

"This is different. It's just a gathering between me and my friends," she says. "People I care for, people who care for me. No need for airs and graces, unlike that."

She huffs. Of course Columbina is going to take the "grand reception thing" seriously. Heck, she probably actually did that in the past. Still, spending a night with games, food, and probably a lot of sappiness? "I don't know where your friend is from," she says. "but I'm hardly the type of company anyone wants to keep. I'll probably just spoil your fun, or whatever."

"Oh," Columbina tilts her head. "I actually think she'd come to like you. And Lauma will be there as well. Her opinion of you has taken a turn for the better recently."

She rolls her eyes. "Let me guess," she drawls. "they're all sentimental fools just like you?"

She hums. "Perhaps. But there's only one way to find out, don't you think?"

She pauses at that, and she curses her own mind for itching again.

Columbina is right though.

Only one way to find out.

Sandrone is starting to think that the "finding out part" doesn't outweigh the "fucking around" part of this night.

The two of them go to the well-off part of the city, where people rent out apartments if they can afford them. The door in front of them is painfully bland and drab, and Sandrone curses herself for hesitating when Columbina raises her hand to knock. She already has an idea that her circle is probably full of naively sincere idiots just like Columbina. She also knows that this is hardly the most intimidating bunch she's hung out with, if they're even intimidating at all. And yet, if Columbina already catches her off-guard this much...how much worse are her friends going to be?

It's only then that she realizes that Columbina paused mid-way on knocking, her hand awkwardly raised on the door. She's tilting her head at Sandrone. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Peachy." She huffs. She can do this. She totally can. YOLO and all that nonsense. "What are you waiting for?"

She seems satisfied with that answer at least, and knocks a specific rhythm on the door. Behind it, there's a muffled "Hold on, I'll get it!" before it swings open, revealing a blonde woman with the most tacky heart-patterned apron. She greets Sandrone with polite pleasantries and Columbina with a bear hug.

Sandrone blinks. In the hug, Columbina lets out a short squeak, before it transforms into a giggle as she reciprocates. A strange feeling overcomes Sandrone--something in her chest twists and tightens, her body thrumming with energy...or something. She doesn't know what it is. She just ends up lingering near the doorway until those two disentangle and the blonde woman ushers them inside. 

She tries not to jump at Columbina's cool touch as her hand clasps Sandrone's.

As they enter the apartment, Sandrone curses Columbina for how she understated this "game night". There must've been at least a dozen idiots in here! And she emphasizes the word idiots because every one of them had paper hat with doodles and nonsensical colors made by crayons. True to the name though, some idiots are crowded around the table with boards and crystals while the others are deeply engrossed with a TCG battle by the looks of it though.

As the blond woman announces Columbina's presence though, the games slow to a stop wih a round of shushing, followed by a chorus of "Hey Columbina!" in the air.

The woman in question shyly waves back at them, smiling as she says, "Hello, everyone."

With how introverted she is, Sandrone thought she would be overwhelmed getting tugged away by rounds of people. But she looks relaxed, her smile still present and her pace languid as she speaks with them. She insists that she's okay to a crying white-haired child, who only stops clinging to her knees with the promise of food. She nods along to a hundred word per minute ramble by a woman with a cat beanie. She greets a man with tousled dark blue hair and eyebags for centuries. She doesn't even shy away from a blonde man who easily towers over her, and even giggles at a terrible joke he opens with.

On the other hand, Sandrone is lost in all the noise and conversation and bright warm lights. None of the faces are familiar at all. She can barely make heads or tails from the overlapping conversations.

Why am I here again?

She's startled back into focus when Columbina takes her hand again. An anchor.

"Come with me," she says. The smile on her face is one Sandrone only sees when Columbina is nuzzling that kuuhenki or eating some delicious bread. There's a pep in her step as she tugs Sandrone further in. "I'll introduce you to everybody."

Sandrone blinks. "...There's no need," she says, planting her feet on the ground. "You're being weird again. Isn't it a waste of time to spend this night by your friends with your literal roommate?"

That makes Columbina stop in her tracks, all traces of that smile earlier disappearing. Her grip on Sandrone's hand loosens. Her lilac eyes are trained on Sandrone, brows squeezed together, then she softly says, "You say that as if I'd get tired of you, Sandrone."

They linger on there, suspended in that moment.

Then, her grip on Sandrone's hand tightens. "Come with me."

This time, Sandrone doesn't argue. This time, she shifts their hands a little bit to lace their fingers together. She ignores how something in her chest jumpstarts at the added contact. She ignores how Columbina's steps stutter, just for a moment, before they continue walking.

What is she doing? What is she doing? Sandrone's head doesn't feel screwed on straight. All her nerves are fried with the overwhelming feeling of her hand being held. And when Columbina's thumb brushes against her knuckles, her brain short-circuits. It takes all of her remaining dignity not to trip on her own feet.

"Sandrone," Columbina's voice jolts her out of her haze. She gestures to the table where a seemingly intense TCG match is happening. "meet the boys. This is Varka."

The blonde man is easily an intimidating figure if he wasn't sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck while palming a bunch of die. "Man, it feels weird to have someone introduce me," he says. "like I'm some sort of hot shot."

She gestures to the guy with eyebags for centuries. "And this is Ky--"

"Ah, miss Columbina...and miss Sandrone." His necklaces tinkle together as he abruptly sits up. His baggy shirt and pants and choker--like he'd been freshly dragged out of bed and threw together an outfit--betray his gentlemanly attitude as he puts a hand on his chest and bows his head slightly towards them. "Please. 'Flins' is fine."

Soon, the boys get on with their match and they move on to the other table. A board with crystal stones arranged in columns and rows occupies it, crowded around by Lauma, two other women, and a cat.

"The one next to Lauma is Jahoda," Columbina explains. "and across from her is Nefer. The cat's name is Ashru. I like playing the game of cups with him."

Sandrone raises an eyebrow at that. "The...game of cups?"

"Yes. I put a metal cup on the table, he toys with it, then pushes it off. On and on we go. It's quite fun. He also likes it when you scratch under his chin."

"Huh." Sandrone is too distracted to comment on how weird that is, engrossed in watching the rhythm of putting crystal stones and verbal jabs down.

"...must say, you truly are pushing your luck," the other woman says, one of her long nails tracing the edge of the board. Nefer, was it? "Asking me to host this game night, then imposing on me by dragging me into one of your games..." She clicks her tongue and places a stone on the board.

"Hmm. Perhaps it has something to do with how benevolent your true character is," Lauma muses. She barely even glances at the board before making her own move. "Otherwise, this night is truly magical. Revealing how lenient the most uptight person can be..."

"I'll make you regret saying that."

"Oh my. I didn't take you to be more bark than bite."

"Oh, Archons wept," Sandrone mutters to herself. She doesn't know if she should be impressed at how Lauma is keeping up so far, or if she should be sick to the stomach and yell at them to get a room.

Luckily, Columbina makes the decision for her as she giggles. "Best not to disturb them for now," she muses. "I like to think these moments of theirs to be...building up toward something."

"Columbina!" A whiny voice screams. "Co-lum-bi-na!"

Sandrone glances over her shoulder. All she registers is a whirlwind of white whipping past her, then Columbina lets out a small "ow" when someone latches onto her knees again.

Dark eyes peek up at her, along with a small voice whining, "You said "ow"! You said you were okay!" The voice quivers. "You shouldn't lie to Paimon...."

"You just...surprised me, is all." Still, the way Columbina wobbles when the kid disentangles from her is not lost on Sandrone. Her jaw ticks. "You know I can't see very well."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." The kid twiddles her thumbs, staring down at her sneakers. Then, she perks up again. "Right! Come on, let me show you my new hat designs."

She lets out a small laugh. "Hold on. First, let me introduce you to my friend first. Sandrone, this is--"

"A-papap!" She wags a finger at Columbina, her other hand firmly planted on her hip. Columbina tilts her head at her, lips ticked upward in amusement. "Let me do the introducing," she says, then a small hand juts out towards Sandrone. "Hi! My name is Paimon, and I just turned five! And you are..?"

"Sandrone. And yeah, I figured," she says flatly, staring at the hand towards her. She's had a little experience dealing with kids since she's made a few visits to the orphanage Peruere helps out in, but she's unsure on what to do now. Is she supposed to...shake the kid's hand?

Paimon beams. "Sandrone, this is Columbina. And Columbina, this is Sandrone. Okay! Can I please show you my hat designs now?"

Columbina raises an eyebrow at Sandrone. Seems like it's her choice this time.

"Sure."

She beams again and takes both of their hands, leading them to a spot on the floor where a foldable table is placed, with scissors, papers, and crayons scattered around.

Sandrone can't help the grimace that spreads on her face. Sure, she's had experience dealing with children because of Peruere--but it doesn't mean she's any good with them. And unfortunately, she's resigned herself to the fact that these are people Columbina cares about, so in turn, Sandrone has to pay attention to how she treats them (begrudgingly, of course). She doubts making the kid cry would make any good impression, but she isn't sure how to slip away...

"Actually, Sandrone," Columbina's voice brings her out of her thoughts. "why don't you check the kitchen and see how Lumine is doing?"

Ah. And the solution presents itself. "Alright."

"Oooh, are we getting snacks soon?"

She quickly walks away to let Columbina deal with the throes of an overly energetic 5 year old, and makes her way to what seems to be the kitchen. She relies mostly on her nose, following the scent of baking bread and fried meat.

And the kitchen itself? It's a warzone right now.

Mixing bowls, a lone cutting board, plates, and knives are scattered around the kitchen's island counter. A savory aroma wafts from a few pans set on the side. The lone combatant is that blonde woman who greeted them earlier--Lumine, was it--still equipped pink apron but now dirtier, armed with a mixing whisk, and wrestling a few eggs into a bowl.

Sandrone blinks as she walks in. "Wow. That's...a lot." She crosses her arms. "Sucks to be socked into kitchen duty, huh."

The woman jumps. "Oh! Hey there. Didn't hear you come in." She grins as she wipes her forehead with her sleeve, then goes back to mixing. "But uh, no, not really? Cooking and baking is a form of therapy. Besides, all of us universally agreed to ban Lauma and Nefer from the kitchen after one of them decided to...um--"

She raises an eyebrow. "Finger-fuck the other against the cupboards and on the counter?"

Lumine winces at the crass language. "That's definitely one way to put it." Sandrone snickers to herself, both at the reaction and at having guessed it right. Lumine glances over Sandrone's shoulder, before going back to her mixing bowl and saying, "I hope Paimon didn't hear it, she doesn't need to be influenced by that kind of thing..."

Ah. So they seem to be sisters. Or...something familial like that, anyways. The white hair and blonde hair thing doesn't make much sense to her. Still, she rolls her eyes. "She'll live. Columbina's busy putting up with her right now."

"Ah right. I noticed you're a new face around here. How'd you get to know Columbina anyways?"

Oh, gods. Her most dreaded part of social interaction--small talk. "I don't exactly talk to strangers," she deadpans. "Stranger-danger and all that nonsense."

She chuckles good-naturedly at that and puts her bowl down for now. "Right, right. My name's Lumine. Could I have your name?"

"Sandrone."

"Nice to meet you, Sandrone." Lumine smiles. "There. Not so strange now, are we?"

"...Guess not." She huffs. So, to cut a long story to a very short one, she simply says, "I'm Columbina's roommate."

At that, Lumine stops mixing and stares at her with wide eyes. "Oh, so you're--? Oh. Now that makes so much sense."

She raises an eyebrow. "What does?"

"Nothing," she says a little too quickly.

Sandrone squints at her suspiciously, but Lumine does an excellent job at averting her gaze. That, or she's too busy checking whatever she's baking inside the oven. She decides to move on for now and, partly out of politeness for once, Sandrone asks, "How about you? How'd you get stuck with her?"

"Oh. That's quite a long story. Um..." She closes the oven and wipes her hands on her aprons. "As part of my training, I was required to be a part of this immersion project a few years back. I happened to be assigned to this dingy local hospital that had a palliative care ward--I think they had too little manpower, and the way they ran things over there was frankly horrible, which is why they were desperate enough to take any extra set of hands, so--"

"Shorten it," Sandrone deadpans.

Other people would be put off by her tone. Unlike other people though, Lumine simply laughs it off. Weirdos. "Basically, I happened to be assigned there, and Columbina happened to be a patient there."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "You were her...doctor? Or nurse?"

"What?" Her eyes widen at that. "Oh, no. I was just there to help sort paperwork, move around some equipment, and do grunt work. The kind of stuff the actual professionals don't have the time or care for."

Sandrone hears a soft pitter-pattering, and her gaze shifts somewhere to the side. She flicks her gaze back to Lumine with a small smirk.

"Y'know what's funny?" Lumine continues, picking up her whisk from the bowl again. "She used to be so bored at the time, and I was her favorite person to play pranks on. I used to enter her room and she used to scare me from behind, like--"

Columbina leans over her shoulder and whispers, "Boo."

"Ah!" Lumine jumps an impressive height from that small scare alone.

Judging it by eye alone, Lumine actually managed to jump like, 2 meters away in an instant. "Yeah, I can see why," Sandrone says.

Columbina giggles and moves to sit on one of the high chairs around the island counter. "I heard my name mentioned a few times," she says, resting her chin on her palm. "What did I miss?"

Lumine waves it off.  "Oh, nothing. We were just getting to know each other, that's all."

"And of Lauma's sexcapades." Sandrone smirks. "Really, I didn't expect her of all people to be able to pull that off."

Columbina hums. "I think it's sweet. Their relationship, that is," she says. "I used to be so worried that Lauma was giving up her life to take care of mine. Thankfully, she's happy with Nefer, and is more inclined to try new things on her own."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But..." Lumine's voice drops to a mumble. "I just wish they spared the poor cutlery, y'know..."

"Speaking of," Sandrone says. "you must be doing a terrible job making that poor batter. Seeing you struggle against it while we were talking offends me. Where's your other whisk?"

"Nuh-uh." Lumine wags her finger at her. "Sorry, but I do solo-duty on the kitchen best! Thanks for offering though, but I can handle it."

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Sure."

"I'm serious. Why don't you brew yourself a cup of tea instead? Nefer won't mind. I think there's a few in the cupboards."

"I'll get it." Columbina slides off the high chair and feels around for the cupboards.

Without having anything to occupy herself with, Sandrone plops down on one of the high chairs with a huff. Even if these people's weirdness made her reel in for a bit, she can't say that this night sucked as much as she thought so far. No one's yelled at her yet and no one has given her a good reason to be yelled at. And there's a cat. And tea.

Soon, Columbina finishes brewing it the proper way, and she comes back to the kitchen island with two cups and coasters. She sets one down in front of Sandrone, and one beside her.

Sandrone picks the cup up and does a test sniff. This one seems a bit more grassy or earthy, and the dark color of the liquid supports that as well. She blows on it a few times, preparing to take a sip, before she spots Columbina tilting her head curiously at her.

She blinks. "What?"

The corner of her lips tick up in amusement. "Aren't you going to say your usual lines?"

Her eyebrows furrow together. "What line?"

Columbina raises an eyebrow at her, before she raises her own cup. "'See, this tea has the smell of strong tobacco after going through an intense oxidation process," she says, in a very very poor imitation of Sandrone's voice, sloshing around the tea dramatically. "'And if you drink it under the light of a waxing moon, you might even get that hint of chamomile overtones.'"

"I don't sound like that," Sandrone deadpans.

"Yes, you do. Sometimes." Columbina sets her cup down and faces her with a smile. "You were trying to explain different tea types to me once, remember?"

She huffs. Of course she remembers.

"So, inspired by that, I picked out different teas for the two of us. Maybe our host's selection might be able to impress you."

She blinks at that. "Huh." No wonder why Columbina's tea seems more red than hers.

She pushes her cup over. "Would you like to try mine first?"

Now curious, Sandrone tentatively accepts the cup. The liquid itself has an almost translucent quality to it, and holds a much brighter color. She takes a small sip of it, and it goes down smoothly.

She's barely able to savor it when she notices Columbina tilting her head at her. "So? What do you think?"

Sandrone takes another small sip before pushing the cup back to Columbina. "It's quite nice. Fruity teas aren't usually what I'd pick, but the sweetness is mellow and subtle enough. I find it refreshing."

"Interesting," Columbina murmurs. Sandrone doesn't know what to make of the expression on her face, or the fact that her eyes are openly focused on her.

So instead, she continues. "As I swish it to the back part of my palate though," she says, gesturing with a hand. "I can taste that sort of earthy, almost nutty base to the tea too. It adds depth. It's not one-dimensional. I'm..." The sound of cheering and banter from the living room makes her glance over, losing her train of thought. Then, she looks back to Columbina and harrumphs. "Well. It's good."

"I see," she muses. "And what about the chamomile overtones?"

She sighs. "Can you shut up, Columbina?"

Columbina giggles, before the two of them settle in comfortable silence, only broken by the sound of rhythmic chopping. The counter is cold against her cheek as Sandrone rests on it, staring without really thinking about what to stare. Her eyes trace the soft curve of Columbina's mouth when she smiles and mimics her shrimp-like posture too. Sandrone thinks about how she never expected to end up here at some point, in some rando's apartment as the warm aroma of bread wafts by.

Sandrone thinks and thinks to herself. About how that's definitely Columbina's fault, about how she somehow doesn't mind being openly stared at like this, about how rare it is for that twinkle in Columbina's eyes to show up, about how she doesn't mind openly staring at those eyes too, to map out the stars and constellations she can find in them.

Oh, she thinks then, a distant echo compared to the hammering in her chest. Oh, I'm fucked.

────ᛝྀིྀིᛝ ꔻ ᛝྀིྀིᛝ────

It's been over three months since Columbina first moved in. At this point, there's no other way to rationalize it. Sandrone...cares for Columbina.

Plain and simple. No matter how much that voice in her head screeches, about how she shouldn't be making the same mistakes from the past, about how much she actually likes her isolation, about how she doesn't need anyone--well. It's hardly Sandrone's choice, at this point. She's struggled against it long enough. She can't control it, so she may as well accept it, then decide on what to do next. Yes, such logical thinking should be praised.

That's how far logical thinking gets her though, because the act of actually caring terrifies her.

She keeps on playing back all those moments between them in her head. How did this suddenly snuck up on her? How come Columbina was able to gradually, patiently worm her way through every single one of her defenses? That, she doesn't know the answer to. Before she knew it, Columbina became such an important part of her daily life, to the point that her days are more dull when Columbina's gone, when there's no one left to stand eye-to-eye against her. Maybe that's why she was reluctant to push her away in the first place.

All Sandrone definitively knows is that she is out of her own depth. And, like any other self-respecting researcher, she seeks out other knowledge from other sources instead, and defers to other people who happen to be experts at this area of expertise.

Which is to say...Columbina.

Columbina definitely has a larger social circle than she does, comprised of much warmer people as well. She's seen how naturally affectionate she is, at least in terms of touch--because Sandrone has certainly been a victim of that enough times already. So, that seems like a good place to start. Affection.

The thing is, she doesn't do affection.

The mere thought of doing something affectionate, much less openly admitting that she does care, makes her want to curl up into a ball and disintegrate. But still, she's compelled to at least try, because for once this is someone she cannot and will not push away, and for once she wants to give that person a reason to stay.

So, she's tried her own hand on it. Hell, the other morning, she asked Columbina if she wanted a second serving of bread three times. Three! That's basically spoiling her! That counts as affection, right? That has to count as affection, otherwise she truly doesn't understand the concept.

Sandrone can only really resume her daily life, figuring it out as she goes along. She figures that half the game has already been given away anyways, with how Columbina smiles in amusement at her most times, so it's not like it's been like, bad. Just...weird, is all. Different.

And so, Sandrone gets up from her bed, starting out another day. The weather is supposed to be decent today, and she only has one class in the afternoon today. Maybe she can treat herself to something. Then it'd be a good day.

Then she looks over to the lump on the other bed.

Columbina still has her blanket tightly wound around her, clutching her plush to her chest. She looks peaceful like this, her chest rising evenly with each soft breath. It almost makes Sandrone feel bad if she wakes her up.

Almost. She crouches beside the bed anyways and gently shakes her shoulder. "Hey. Get up."

No response. Only a bit of shifting on the bed.

She huffs. "Come on, Columbina. You get to annoy me to sleep, it's only fair I get to annoy you awake too."

Still no response. Or at least, she thought so at first. But then, Columbina shifts slightly again and--her lashes flutter a little bit, eyebrows twitching. Aha.

Sandrone rolls her eyes. "You might be able to fool someone else," she deadpans. "but I can tell."

That finally gets a reaction out of Columbina--that being, an amused smile slowly spreading on her face. "Shame," she murmurs. "I hoped you would fall for it this time."

"Hey, you were the weirdo who said I should wake you up, not me. Like I'm your personal alarm clock or something..." She gets up, grimacing as her knees protest at being on the tiled floors for longer than necessary. "Shit. Ugh." It takes a few wiggles of her leg for her foot to come alive again as she walks over to the kitchenette's counter. "Anyways, what do you want to eat?"

"I don't mind with whatever you're making."

She snorts at that. Ah yes, one of her roommate's greatest enemies--decision making. Like it isn't the easiest thing in the world to just follow what you want. She wonders sometimes if it's part of that stupid logic of hers, about not wanting to potentially burden people, and Sandrone has half a mind to invest in a spray bottle to train the instinct out of her.

She tamps down the psychological conditioning for now because she can be nice like that.

Instead, Sandrone pulls out some simple meals to reheat as well as some fruit Lauma dropped off yesterday. The hum of the microwave fills the room while she waits for it to spit their food out already. While waiting though, she spots Columbina openly staring at her, and she shifts on her feet.

These days, she can usually tell what's going through Columbina's mind while she's staring. If her eyebrows are slanted together, she's upset or thinking about some problem she encountered recently. If it's relaxed and her eyes are glassy, she's probably spacing out. But this particular look--the one where her head is slightly tilted, her eyebrows are relaxed, her eyes shining...Sandrone still doesn't know what to make of it.

And, even aside from all that... "Why do you keep doing that anyways?"

Columbina blinks. "Doing what?"

"Staring."

"Oh." And the look on her face disappears, replaced by one more resembling concern. "Does it bother you?"

"No," she says, as she folds her arms over herself almost protectively. "It's just--I thought you said you liked keeping your eyes closed, or whatever. It's stupid."

"Hmm. True," she says. "Although, back then I didn't have anything worth trying to see."

Her internal translator for Columbina's usual vague nonsense fails her this time. There's a lot to unpack from that statement alone. Sandrone decides to chuck the entire suitcase instead.

Luckily, the microwave goes off in that exact moment and they eat, saving her from trying to continue the conversation from there. Aside from her own botched attempts in trying to understand what "caring" means, the energy between them has been changing lately. That...relentless staring from her idiot is just one part of it.

"Sandrone," Columbina speaks up again, just after Sandrone dries her hair. "can I braid your hair?"

She blinks. That has never been something Columbina asked before. And with good reason--for example, when was the last time someone else even touched her hair? It's not for a dramatic reason. It's just that it's been awhile since someone else seem interested in doing that. "...Sure."

Columbina flashes her a small, almost shy smile at that response, and she pats a spot on her bed.

Sandrone hesitantly settles down on that spot, and tries not to shudder when Columbina runs her fingers through her hair. The silence between them feels heavier--not burdensome, but rather bursting at the seams of what could be said, but isn't instead. The implicit agreement that, in such a naturally vulnerable state, Sandrone somehow knows that Columbina wouldn't judge or mock her for this.

That same weird feeling from game night overwhelms her again--something tightening in her chest like she's breathless, her fingers itching to do something like she's restless. Now that she isn't overwhelmed by other people this time, she finds that it reminds her of when she's craving for some food or craving to take apart an interesting mechanism.

But Columbina isn't a snack or a Meka for Sandrone to take apart. Columbina is all gentle touches on her hair, warm breaths against her exposed skin, and keen eyes taking it all in. All of what Sandrone is laying bare for her. So, she wriggles under the unfamiliar feeling, but still tries to hold it in to prevent pulling away.

"You're squirming," Columbina murmurs. "Am I doing it wrong?"

Her voice brings Sandrone out of her own thoughts, and she realizes that Columbina left out two long strands on the side of her face, braiding the other partition of her hair. The same way Sandrone actually wears it. So she's been watching this whole time, she thinks, not knowing what to make of it.

Those slender fingers pause, mid-tangle with a strand of her hair. "Am I hurting you?"

She blinks. Right. She actually has to respond like a normal person. "No." Is it just her, or does her voice actually crackle when she says that? "It's been awhile since someone did this. Just...not used to it. That's all."

Columbina hums. "Maybe you need to use the bathroom."

She blinks again. The way that comes out of nowhere sends her reeling in. "...Ha?"

"Y'know, to pee and things like that," she says casually, tucking another strand behind Sandrone's ear. "I heard from someone once that it can help with nerves."

The unnamed feeling goes away, replaced by a more familiar spark in her chest. "Columbina, I literally just came out of the shower," she hisses, heat creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She giggles, welcoming the more familiar tone. "Still, why not?" she says. "You're embarrassed just talking about it. You could just be waiting for the chance to kick me out to do your thing."

Gods, this woman was going to be the death of her. Because Sandrone finds that she doesn't want to kick her out at all. She wants Columbina to continue holding her like this, wants to keep hearing her wandering thoughts and woes everyday, wants to complain if she gets into their shared bed when her feet are cold. Sandrone wants, and wants, and wants--and suddenly, that weird feeling from earlier is named, rearing its ugly head on her.

"I like you," she says.

The fingers in her hair freeze. Columbina blinks several times at her, a touch of color on her cheeks. "You..?"

Oh gods. Archons wept, she said that?! Really, it takes all of Sandrone's remaining pride and dignity not to shy away like a scrawny teenager who just gave the Worst Confession Ever(TM). Instead, Sandrone stares back, squaring herself as much as she can. It's alright, this is salvageable. She can take rejection. She can take humiliation.

She can take anything, so long as Columbina doesn't pull away.

And against all the odds she's been calculating in her head, Columbina doesn't. Instead, she recovers from her surprise quickly. "I never expected you to say that," she murmurs.

No shit. Sandrone didn't expect to do so either. "Well, I had to say it just to remind myself," she insists. "with how annoying you were getting."

She lets out a small laugh at that. "Right. I guess so."

And all Sandrone can focus is the soft curve of her lips as she says that and goes back to braiding. And all she can focus on is how those gentle tugs are slowly pulling her in. And all she can focus on is how she can count all the tiny twinkles and sparkles in Columbina's eyes if she wanted to. How she can walk up to that Mondstadt astrology student and say, you can stop looking at the stars now, I have all I need to look for right here.

Sandrone calls people idiots because of their tendency to do things without thinking. It's so unlike her calculated, correct approach in tackling anything that she can hardly fathom why most idiots would rush in head first, never giving up easily. Columbina is obviously one at times. But, she supposes, she can be idiotic too.

"And because," she says, leaning in closer, closer, cupping Columbina's cheek, relishing how her breath hitches from the contact too. "I wanted to do this."

Sandrone kisses her.

It's...more awkward than she first thought. All she's really doing is pressing their lips together. She doesn't actually know where to put her other hand too, so it's just...hovering in the air. But the part of her head that would usually scream at her for that is quiet. All she can focus on is how soft Columbina's lips, how her perfume tickles her nose this close, how warm her face is.

Then Sandrone pulls away first, and the moment is over.

Columbina is looking at her, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and cheeks completely flushed. Like for once, she's the one off-balance. Sandrone feels her lips ticking up at the corners, immensely pleased with herself. Serves her right.

The fingers tangled in her hair tighten their grip, and Columbina leans closer to her.

A gasp escapes from her before Sandrone can control herself. Finally, the better part of her common sense kicks in, and she's fucking mortified. Her other instincts kick in, and she's tempted to run away, but she can't escape from the firm but gentle grip on her hair and the intense gaze Columbina gives her from her hooded eyes.

"Y'know, that's not fair," she murmurs.

Still, even with every part of her screaming at her, even with every inch of her skin burning with every point of contact, Sandrone tries to scoff defiantly. "W-what is?"

"Lumine told me once that you're supposed to ask first to court someone," she says. She has that small amused smile on her lips again, like she's satisfied with successfully having Sandrone like this. Damn this woman.

Then her brain short-circuits. Court someone. So she...Columbina's also...

"Hmm, too shy? Then, let me demonstrate." And the hand tangled in her hair moves to caress her cheek instead, the cool touch stark against her overheated skin. "Sandrone, may I kiss you?"

Her head is too jumbled to try and think up of any other words other than, "Y-yeah."

Columbina leans in, capturing Sandrone's lips. She tries to gasp, tries to whine, tries to say something, but all her noises barely make it past her lips, swallowed up whole by Columbina's satisfied hum. She's never known this woman to be greedy, but she devours and savors everything Sandrone is willing to give her, and she's loathe to deny her anything this time. Sandrone matches her rhythm, and she wants and wants and wants more, the heat on her cheeks travelling down to her chest, down to...

Then it ends, and she wants to yell at Columbina for pulling away. It comes out as a pathetic whimper instead.

Somewhere in-between the talking and the not-talking parts, they've shifted positions, and Sandrone is lower on the bed this time, leaning on the stack of pillows behind her. Columbina is hovering above her, her knee tucked in between her thighs, eyes openly wandering on Sandrone. Her gaze reflects the same desire that makes Sandrone's chest pound, that makes her burn and ache, and it really wants to make her yell even more.

If you want me, her head screams. if you really want me, what's stopping you this time? Don't you want me? Am I not--

Then Columbina leans down, her dark hair falling over them as a curtain, and Sandrone's mind goes blank.

"Ask." Columbina's voice is still breathless. Her lips are so close, but when Sandrone tries to kiss her again, a hand snakes its way to her hair again and tugs. She whines at the resistance. "You have to tell me what you want, Sandrone. And be polite."

Fuck you, some part of her hisses. The corners of her eyes are already starting to sting from the frustration of being denied of what she wants. She doesn't want to give what Columbina's asking for either--she wants to call her an idiot or say some quippy thing or-- "I want to kiss you." Her voice is almost foreign to her, with how small it sounds. "Please."

She barely gets the words out before those lips are finally, finally on her again. This time, Sandrone remembers she has hands, so she uses one to cling on to the back of Columbina's neck and the other to clutch at her shirt, pulling her in closer. Her eyes are closed, fully submitting to how Columbina nips at her lower lip, how her hand runs over Sandrone's chest, how her knee presses in closer, closer. She falters at that last part, caught up in the jolt that runs through her entire body and the low groan that escapes her, but Columbina keeps her in place.

Sandrone doesn't know how much time passes. It could be ten minutes or an hour, and she would still doesn't feel like she's fully indulged in this yet. Desire settles as a low boil below her stomach. She wants more. Every touch from Columbina sears itself on her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Sandrone is completely surrounded, in Columbina's lips, in her hands, in her scent--and finally, she finds herself overwhelmed by every sensation. She lays a gentle hand on Columbina's chest and pushes, and the sensations stop.

But when Columbina moves too much, moves too far away, she clutches at her instead, stopping her from leaving. They're sitting up this time, with Sandrone keeping her face buried on Columbina's shoulder.

"Good girl." A gentle hand moves to pat her hair. "See? It wasn't so difficult, was it?"

But her head is still caught up on the first part of that statement. Her body shudders, breath catching, and the boiling desire below her stomach condenses as she clenches over nothing, and she whines--

And of course, this doesn't escape Columbina. Sandrone feels her tensing up against her. "Did you just..?"

"Shut up," she grits out. The flush on her cheeks and neck come back with a vengeance, born out of embarrassment rather than desire. "Shut up, Columbina."

She hums instead, continuing to pat Sandrone's head.

What does this even mean for them? Sandrone doesn't know any logical way forward. She definitely doesn't want to have that potential conversation yet, not when her head is still reeling in. She isn't even sure if she's prepared for something like that, not when she still flinches away from every caring touch and goodwill act. She needs to be sure first, before she makes any rash decisions.

Then, Columbina pulls her in closer, and Sandrone is resting her head against her chest instead. "I like you too, by the way," she says. Y'know, for someone who just spent the past half hour completely melting Sandrone's brain with teasing touches and soft lips, she sounds almost shy admitting it. "In case that wasn't obvious."

And she can't help but let out a small laugh at that. "Message received, definitely." She raises her arms and hugs Columbina back too.

It's...probably okay that she doesn't have everything figured out right now. The half-done braids on her hair have been completely undone, but that can be taken care of later. Same for talking about where they're taking this to, or figuring out how to care for someone without leaving claw marks...it can be taken care of later.

Because Sandrone has a funny feeling, that's all. Columbina's not going anywhere. She's here to stay.

She sighs against her chest, the thing pounding in her chest eventually matching Columbina's heartbeat. It mesmerizes her, and her head feels like the warm kind of fuzzy around the edges. "Mm," she says. "I'm...glad you like me too."