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Columbina took a long, slow sip of her tea, before delicately sitting her cup down on the table. The fine china clinked, and Sandrone raised a judgemental eyebrow. She bit her tongue to keep from saying anything about the treatment of her dishes. Columbina was not rough with the teacups, she never was, but Sandrone always got a bit twitchy when Columbina handled the fine china. That lace mask over the other woman’s eyes made her nervous. She had no idea how much it actually limited Columbina’s eyesight, but the last thing she wanted was for her teacups and saucers to get broken by a clumsy move.
“The tea is delicious tonight,” Columbina said. “It’s a shame Arlecchino is missing it.”
“Yes, she was busy tonight,” Sandrone said with a frustrated huff. “Something to do with those damn kids of hers.”
“The House of the Hearth?” Columbina asked with a slight tilt of her head.
“Yes, yes.” Sandrone waved her off. “She’s too busy for us.” Or perhaps it was because Signora was no longer here to join them. Come to think of it, Arlecchino had always come up with a convenient excuse not to come ever since the other woman’s death.
“I don’t think that’s true,” Columbina said, her voice soft. “Besides, it’s nice to have a tea party with just the two of us, isn’t it?”
Sandrone leaned forward with interest. “You don’t wish Arlecchino was here?” Columbina certainly seemed closer with Arlecchino than she was with Sandrone, much to her chagrin. They had their little game they played, where Columbina tried (and failed miserably) to sneak up on Arlecchino.
Sandrone didn’t have any fun games with her like that. They just had these tea parties, which had always included Arlecchino and Signora. It wasn’t like it was something between just the two of them.
Until now.
A faint heat spread across Sandrone’s cheeks, and she was glad for the lace mask that Columbina wore. She wouldn’t put it past her to comment on the blush spreading across her face. She wouldn’t do it to be cruel or teasing. Columbina had no frame of reference when it came to social interactions, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to blunder them. She would point out Sandrone’s blush simply because it was there.
And then Sandrone would have to yell at her and threaten her, because what other course of action was there?
Columbina hummed. “Of course I wish she was here, but I understand that she cannot be. It’s a shame, but what can be done?” She curled her finger around the tea cup's handle, and lifted it to her mouth for another sip.
“You’re supposed to raise the saucer as well,” Sandrone scolded. “That’s the proper way to drink tea.”
“Oh.” Columbina reached for the saucer, and lifted it with her other hand, completely separate from the teacup.
“No.” Sandrone picked up her own saucer and teacup. “Like this. Can’t you see what I’m doing?”
Columbina tilted her head. “Not exactly.”
“Not… exactly,” Sandrone repeated, her voice flat.
Columbina pointed a delicate finger towards her lace mask.
“Why do you wear that thing?” Sandrone asked.
“Why do you wear what you wear?” Columbina asked in return. If anyone else asked such a question, Sandrone would assume they were trying to be difficult. But not Columbina. She never did things for the sake of being difficult. She asked because she simply wanted to know.
“Because I like it,” Sandrone said as she turned her nose up. “Besides! I’m not wearing some stupid lacy mask that keeps me from seeing what’s going on around me! I’ve never seen you without that damn thing.”
Columbina fell silent, and the china clinked once more as she set the saucer and teacup back on the table. Slowly, as if she were unsure, her hand drifted up towards her face, and her fingers slipped beneath the lace of her mask.
Sandrone’s eyes blew wide as she realized that Columbina intended to take it off.
As far as Sandrone knew, none of the Fatui had ever seen her without the mask. None of them at all. Not even Arlecchino.
She cleared her throat, and Columbina’s fingers stalled, hooked in the lacy gaps of her mask.
“Why do you wear it?” Sandrone asked once again.
Columbina’s fingers curled against her cheekbone. “Because I can. Because it keeps my eyes to myself.”
“What does that mean?” Sandrone asked, more than a little annoyed with the vague answer that didn’t make any real sense.
Then again, why would she expect anything else from Columbina? She was an airheaded damsel, and half of what she said and did made no sense.
But Sandrone would miss it if, for some reason, Columbina suddenly decided to act and communicate like a normal fucking person.
“I like you, Sandrone,” Columbina said as her hand fell away from her face, leaving the mask in place, much to Sandrone’s disappointment. “You don’t treat me as if I’m something special.”
“You’re not special,” Sandrone said on instinct, before mentally wincing at how callous the words sounded.
But Columbina merely smiled, a small, sweet thing. “Yes, like that.”
Sandrone crossed her arms with a huff. “Whatever you say, Columbina.” The heat on her cheeks intensified, spreading all the ways to the tips of her ears.
I like you.
Of course Columbina would just say that. Like it meant nothing. Like it was simple.
What point was there in Columbina wearing a mask if she was going to be so forthright with her feelings? A lot of the Fatui wore masks, but at least that made sense for them. They had things to hide: plans, emotions, pasts.
Columbina hid nothing.
Despite that, Sandrone didn’t know a damn thing about her.
“Take the mask off,” she said before she could think any better of it.
“What?” Columbina asked.
Sandrone narrowed her eyes, before pushing herself up and leaning across the table, her body moving before she could think any better of it. Her fingers hooked beneath the delicate edge of the lace, and she pushed the mask up Columbina’s forehead, mussing her bangs as she did so.
“Oh!” Freed from the lace, Columbina’s shining eyes blinked open.
Sandrone fell back into her seat, unable to tear her eyes away from the other woman’s fully exposed face. She stared for a moment, drawn in by the ethereal beauty of her eyes. They shined in the dim lighting of the room, framed by thick, fluffy eyelashes.
Sandrone scoffed and turned her head away. “Put the damn mask back on. You look better with it.”
“Oh.” Columbina reached up to tug it back into place. “Okay.” She was not upset by Sandrone’s words, merely taking them at face value and accepting them. Just like always.
Sandrone turned her attention back to her teacup.
She should try harder to get Arlecchino to come next time, lest she say and do more stupid things.
Columbina settled the mask back into place, and reached for her own teacup.
Sandrone shouldn’t have told her to put the mask back on.