Chapter Text
The sound of the first bell reverberated through the halls, triggering a high tide of students that filled the halls. As students mingled in groups of their choice, their voices blended together like a melodious hymn, each voice echoing the last. As the first bell’s ring grew increasingly distant, the sea of students began to disperse. People retreated to classrooms, the library, or the dorms. The halls grew sparse, nothing but a low tide of students remained. Classroom doors left ajar allowed the expulsion of authoritative voices to become all the more prominent.
A particular door was shut entirely, but did nothing except muffle the quarreling happening behind the door. The slow descent into frustration from numerous voices on the other side of the door sparked aggression. The sound of chairs scraping rapidly, things hitting the floor, and the occasional indirect scream. The walls and doors felt merely decorative against overpowering voices.
“I told you, I didn’t take your essay out of your bag!” a shorter indigo-haired boy shouted, his hands balling into fists. Anger emitted from him in violent rays, filling the atmosphere in the area, “why’re you always accusing me, Childe?! I’m sure it could’ve been anybody, anybody at all!” He outstretched his hand, a pointed finger scanning across everybody else in the room. His teeth gritted at the mock-shock in their expressions, as if they couldn’t fathom being thieves. Scaramouche shook with uncontrolled fury, his entire body visibly tensed.
As soon as the fury came, it released at its peak. Scaramouche hurled a chair across the room with a loud grunt, hitting nobody in particular. The shrill sound of the chair clatter evoked nothing but a small wince from a few of them. It served as a message to the rest of them that he’d been at his wits end. Through their constant facade of innocence, inability to see the seriousness in certain situations, and serving as nothing but bystanders in the face of conflict between specified members, Scaramouche knew his reaction was just satisfaction for the majority. Not an ounce of guilt was on their faces. Neither was there empathy. The lack of authentic emotion made him feel jested. Like his frustration over the situation felt performative and nothing short of entertainment for the people he’d inexplicitly called his acquainted.
“Does any of what you just did justify your petty thievery, Scaramouche?” Childe furrowed his eyebrows, his gaze dropping onto Scaramouche, “perhaps if you didn’t get radically defensive about something as mundane as my paper to begin with, there’d be no reason for my questioning.” Childe’s tone was blunt and grave, a stark contrast from his normally friendly and inviting tone towards almost everybody. He stepped forward, seeping into the shorter man’s personal space, “You think I don’t know that any of you could be thieves? Of course I do!” His hands threw up in both annoyance and exasperation revolving around the situation. “I’m painfully aware of how they are…” his gaze momentarily shifted to look at the rest of them before it fell back on Scaramouche. “But you’re not them, Scaramouche. I hope you’re not them.” The slight quiver in Childe’s lip implied hurt lingering beneath the surface. Showing how even the most petty of situations was a fuse just as flammable as a grave one.
Childe’s words stung with Scaramouche, his eyes glinting with shame. His lips pressed into a thin line and he turned to grab his bag, opening it. Scaramouche dug in his bag, emerging with a neatly-kept folder. He pivoted to face Childe, shoving the folder into the ginger boy’s grip. Scaramouche lowered his head a bit, feeling a bruise to his ego, “I didn’t mean to steal it, Childe…” he murmured, nothing but embarrassing filtered in his voice. “It got mixed up with mines before classes started, early this morning. I planned on giving it back, but the accusation just-” he sighed to release the leftover tension in his body so he’d be more level-headed. “What I’m trying to say is I should’ve just given it back sooner.” He hitched up his bag, zipping it shut and slinging a strap over his shoulder. He began walking towards the door, slowly shaking his head, “just need to get a break from them all…”
As the door behind Scaramouche slammed shut, the group was left to sit with the aftermath. Dottore was humming quietly with his legs crossed in a polite manner, his gaze fixed on something nobody else could guess. The confines of the mask covering the top half of his face made it almost impossible to tell where he was staring. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself off the chair and stood up.
Dottore’s movement attracted all of their attention, he smirked seeing how captivated they were in what he had to say, even if they feigned indifference, “well I’ll say, fellow colleagues… seems like the brat has a soft spot for Childe.” His dry wit got a few chuckles from the group, who were finding enjoyment in degrading this situation into something comical like they always did.
Childe’s shoulders rounded out a bit in embarrassment. His face felt flush, both arms crossing over himself like a form of protection from their remarks and jabs at the emotionally-infused situation that took place.
La Signora noticed Childe’s attempt at caging himself from their judgment once again. She sauntered over, her arm wrapped around him, pulling him in closer. Signora took pride in watching his expression melt into disdain for her. “Childe, is there something you’re meaning to tell us?” The playful and teasing nature of her tone only made his glare sharpen dramatically. She batted her lashes to feign innocence, fully aware of how bothersome she was. “What, you can’t talk?” She nudged him roughly. “Or are you upset that your little boyfriend hoarded your essay?” her cackle was sharp, her head throwing back in amusement while Childe finally shoved her away from him.
Childe snarled at Signora, watching her laugh maliciously. He never hated anybody more than he hated Signora. Nothing about her in his eyes felt redeemable. She almost made beauty seem like a paradox. A price that came with a personality he’d consider in short words, ugly.
Before he could retaliate anything she said, Arlecchino stepped in to create distance between the two. Just to avoid any physical conflict. Her nails reflected light like daggers, visible to both parties as a warning. Arlecchino’s expression was cold and disassociated. She wasn’t one for violence between her peers. Restrain wasn’t weighed in such a situation.
Signora stumbled back a bit, groaning and staring at Arlecchino. She kept trying to force the other woman’s hand back down. Signora hated the attempt as thinly veiled intimidation. Her hands snaked around Arlecchino’s forearm, squeezing firmly like an act of defiance to the hastily calculated distance Arlecchino intentionally put between Signora and Childe.
Arlecchino’s eyebrow raised, surprised by the audacity Signora had but she didn’t make any threats. Unlike Signora’s frustration, Arlecchino only seemed disappointed.
After struggling for nothing more than a few minutes, Signora let go. She furiously stomped over to her bag, her heels loud against the floors. She grabbed her bag, putting it on. Before she made a beeline to leave, Signora grabbed Crucabena, locking arms with the other woman and dragging her to the door also. She didn’t bother formally opening the door. She shoved hard at the door so it opened, letting fresh air filter in.
With a once-over at the group, she just gritted her teeth and turned away with an over-the-top grunt. The grunt came out a bit higher in pitch, an opposite of her much deeper and mature speaking voice. Crucabena just waved lazily, allowing Signora to continuously drag her like a ragdoll.
Arlecchino scoffed to herself when they left, finding Signora’s walk-out more immature than revolutionary. Both arms fell at her side now, letting Childe move freely now that she wasn’t actively separating him from Signora. He just shook his head in annoyance, mumbling under his breath about Signora’s irritating behavior.
Childe smoothed his hair out, though it did nothing as his hair stayed in its naturally messy state. A few hairs askew and sticking up a bit. Childe wasn’t the type to usually avoid physical violence. Fighting brought him an undeniable pleasure that filled his body with adrenaline. However, fighting with Signora? That was beneath him entirely. He’d never go out of his way to fight her and let her know she’d given him satisfaction.
Seeing the group slowly begin to grow small in number made Columbina frown slightly. She grabbed onto Arlecchino’s hand, their fingers interlocking instinctively. A sensual little gesture to show the two women’s exclusivity and admiration for one another. Through Arlecchino’s cold front, a warm pulse in her hand brought closure to Columbina
With a slow nod of her head, Arlecchino let Columbina lead her out the hallway. Their hands swung together with each step they took. In a steady rhythm initiated by Columbina, though Arlecchino didn’t seem to mind much, if not at all.
Their walk through the hallway felt eerily peaceful. Between Columbina’s harmonious humming and the silence of the halls that allowed for an echo of the tune, it felt almost euphoric. Through this tranquility, the sound of shoes clicking hard against the floor disrupted the calm atmosphere.
Arlecchino and Columbina shot a side glance at one another knowingly. A smile slowly smeared onto Columbina’s face, “might that be Rosalyne and Crucabena?” Her voice came out softly, yet the anticipation was easily seen in the sudden change of expression.
Arlecchino squinted a bit to concentrate specifically on the sound to truly know the chances that Signora was the culprit of such a sound. After a while, her face relaxed again and she nodded slowly. “I suppose so, Columbina. Rosalyne mustn’t be far from here, let’s go before the next bell.” Her stride visibly quickened, dragging Columbina along so she could keep up.
Signora was still walking arm-in-arm with Crucabena, checking behind her every time she heard a soft but somewhat loud airy laugh from somewhere in the halls. Her throat bobbed and she groaned, looking back at Crucabena and nudging her in order to get her undivided attention.
“Do you hear that, Crucabena?” Signora’s head gestured to the empty halls behind them. Her tone was a bit on edge in hopes she wasn’t being paranoid and that she wasn’t the only one hearing the creepy laughter.
Crucabena raised an eyebrow and looked behind her, inspecting the hallway. She stopped walking, forcing Signora to stop with her. Crucabena took a moment to truly listen in the direction Signora kept looking back towards. When she heard the eerie, almost child-like laughter, there was a small jolt in her shoulders.
Crucabena shivered as she felt the hairs at the nape of her neck practically stand at attention. She looked back at Signora and nodded profusely, “I have a rough idea on whose laugh that belongs to…” she said warily, her hand balling into a fist over her chest.
Signora scratched her head. More out of nervous habit than anything. When she realized who Crucabena was implying, she rubbed her free hand over her forehead. Her shoulders fell as she let out a deep sigh she hadn’t known she’d been holding, “I love Columbina dearly, but her laugh is uncanny.” Signora unlocked her arm from Crucabena’s and faced her with her entire body. “Might she be looking for us?”
Crucabena considered the idea, looking up at the fluorescent lights above them, deeply in thought. After a few minutes of consideration, she gave a simple nod and shrugged. “I don’t see any other reason she’d be in the hallways. It’s likely she's actually looking for us. Perhaps with Arlecchino in tow?”
As soon as Crucabena stopped talking, Arlecchino and Columbina came into view. Crucabena and Arlecchino exchanged a hasty glare, having their own personal tension and conflict with one another.
The tension was cut through when Columbina eagerly waved at both Signora and Crucabena. “Rosalyne! Crucabena!” Columbina was practically skipping in excitement, releasing her hand from Arlecchino’s to give Signora a hug.
The wind was knocked out of Signora just from the sheer impact of the hug. She grunted as Columbina’s arms hung around her neck tightly and her body was pressing into Signora’s own.
Signora returned the hug, giving small pats to the shorter girl’s back. Despite herself, a chuckle escaped. Whether out of familiarity or flattery was a mystery. “We’ve been gone no more than half an hour, Columbina. I promise, it hasn’t been eons since we last saw each other.” She said jokingly, watching Columbina’s arms immediately latch on to Crucabena to give Crucabena a hug of her own.
Crucabena’s reaction was a little less inviting than Signora’s. She didn’t overly appreciate the hug, but she didn’t move Columbina either. Her hostile exterior cracked into something more fragile through allowing Columbina to hug her.
Columbina finally stepped back to gauge their reactions, feeling delighted at the two women’s once ragged edges softening and rounding out through simple affection. She seemed almost prideful in her success.
Arlecchino cleared her throat as a reminder. She stepped forward, just inches ahead of Columbina. Her hands were behind her back as she looked at Signora and Crucabena, “that’d be enough of the physical pleasantries. We came looking for you both. Seeing you both haven’t strayed too far away, I’d strongly recommend that you,” she looked at Signora, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing enough to be firm, but not painful, “apologize to Childe for your unwarranted behavior.”
Signora let out a scoff of disbelief, staggering back to force Arlecchino’s hand off of her, “Have you lost your mind, Arlecchino? I’m not-”
Before she could finish her sentence, a loud voice blasted through the PA system. They’d all recognized that voice. It belonged to none other than 1 of 7 principals. Perhaps their mutual favorite, The Tsaritsa. She was the only voice of authority they’d answer to with urgency and seriousness, her kind voice captured their attention. Their heads all turned toward one of many PA systems in the hallway.
Like moths to a flame, they were almost hypnotized. Hearing her say their names distracted them effectively from the conflict that was just moments away from ignition.
“Will La Signora, Arlecchino, Columbina, and Crucabena please report to their classes?” Tsaritsa’s calming voice had an immediate effect, seeing how quickly Signora pulled out her schedule to figure out her class. After a hasty overview, Signora’s eyes peeled off her schedule to look up at the other 3 women, “I have alchemy with… Albedo.” Her expression was neutral yet utterly powerless in masking the annoyance in her voice.
Signora turned on her heel and began walking in the direction of her class. She stood near the door in contemplation, loathing the idea of actually having to go in. Within a few minutes of standing out there , Tsaritsa’s voice came through the PA system again.
“Rosalyne, class is not optional. I have eyes everywhere, you know,” was all Tsaritsa said to get Signora’s face to flush at her real name being used over the PA system for anyone who was willing to listen, to get a portion of her personal life.
Signora opened the door to her alchemy class, walking right past Albedo at the front of the class and sliding into a seat next to Dottore, who was in the middle of swirling a liquid not quite identifiable in a graduated cylinder. She dropped her bag to lean it against their station. Almost immediately, she sunk into her
Dottore paused in the middle of messing with a graduated cylinder and watched her sit down. Putting the graduated cylinder back in the ringstand, Dottore prodded Signora just enough to tilt her slightly in order to get her attention.
Feeling the prod, Signora looked at Dottore, raising an eyebrow, “what?” Rather than any annoyance, she was a bit off-guard by him doing something so child-like to get her attention. Especially as someone of his caliber, not exactly known for being polite or respectful of others and their personal space.
Dottore pointed at the middle of the room, and right at Albedo. He leaned in towards Signora and whispered to her, “aren’t they a student too?” Dottore did nothing to conceal his obvious suspicion about the alleged teacher in front of them.
Signora leaned over, corresponding to how he leaned into her and slowly nodded in confirmation, “He’s with that club, remember? Knights of favonius.”
Dottore paused in shock for a second, “That’s a he!?” The absolute awe in his expression evoked uncontrollable laughter from Signora. She slouched in her seat and held a hand over her mouth as a weak attempt to quiet her laughter.
Her loud laughter drew attention and Albedo calmly walked over to them. He snapped his fingers to get both of their attention, uncaring of the reputation they carried around the school.
Albedo exchanged looks with both of them, his calm expression clasping with the unseriousness of the situation.
“Is there anything… funny to the two of you?” He asked in genuine questioning, unappreciative of Signora’s loud laughter becoming a major interruption.
Signora wiped tears from her eyes, her shoulders still shaking silently. “N-no, I promise!” Her words fell on deaf ears the moment she started laughing again, her hand slapping the side of Dottore’s thigh like she was passing him on as the spokesperson.
Dottore had a bit more composure. He shook his head slowly while looking up at Albedo from his seat, “nothing’s funny. We’re still trying to get Signora the help she needs.” His grave tone made his statement all the more believable.
Albedo’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, “I see.” He walked away from them, not in the mood for any sort of disruptive antics when he had a class to conduct.
Signora’s face dropped the second Albedo walked away, hearing what Dottore had falsely claimed about her and slapped his shoulder, “Why would you say that?” She gritted her teeth and kept hitting him. “That’s not funny, I’ve seen washed up comedians with more humor than you.” Signora sat facing forward now, ignoring the experiment in front of her and Dottore.
Dottore smiled to himself, rubbing his hands together before adjusting his gloves and turning on the furnace. “Not everyone has an eye for the arts, I see…” he murmured, getting back to work.
Signora was entirely disengaged in the lesson, clicking her tongue and tapping her nails against the table. Her long legs stretched and rested underneath a chair in front of them. She slowly kicked at the back of a student’s heels carelessly.
“Excuse me, your feet’s under my chair…” a soft spoken voice caught Signora’s attention. Signora’s feet came to a stop momentarily. She snapped out of it and came back to alertness to see who it was
The culprit was none other than Ganyu. Ganyu was a more soft-spoken and quiet student. She was rather meek, especially against people like Signora. Ganyu felt a pit of overwhelming dread form in her stomach when Signora silently acknowledged her. The woman’s gaze alone felt unkind and hostile.
Signora put her feet back under the table and leaned forward, her breathing heavy as she angled herself a little lower so her lips were parallel to the side of Ganyu’s face. “By the looks of it, it seems like ‘Lady Ningguang’ isn’t here at the moment to coddle you.” The way she said Ningguang’s name felt more like a mockery.
Ganyu looked away, moving her head away. Her hands laid on her lap, scrunching the fabric of her skirt a bit. She knew Signora had a point. She was practically spineless without people with authority like Ningguang there to serve as a backbone. Ganyu looked back at Signora with visible intimidation.
“I… I don’t need Lady Ningguang to fight my battles for me!” She exclaimed, trying to project her voice to get a point across to Signora. “Now please, I’m trying to listen to the lesson. It might do you some good if you’d listen too.” With an abrupt turn of her head, facing away from Signora entirely, her heart pounded loudly and rang through her ears. She knew what her defensiveness had sparked. The consequences wouldn’t be an easy pill to swallow.
Signora’s mouth was left agape as her eyebrows raised. She’d expected many things. Waterworks, begging, maybe even just a change in seating. What she hadn’t predicted was what could be vaguely described as Ganyu growing a spine of her own. Without the help of others, without getting too emotional, and without the instinct to get away from Signora as quickly as possible.
Signora’s teeth grinded together as she looked at the back of Ganyu’s head. Her temper couldn’t withstand the disrespect. How she’d been dismissed in a way that implied irrelevancy. She looked back at Dottore and how he was quietly snickering after watching the drama unfold.
Seething with anger, Signora waited till the bell rang. She’d spent the entire time calculating the perfect execution of a plan so Ganyu’d know her behavior wouldn’t go unchecked.
When the bell finally rang, Signora quickly dragged her bag with her, following Ganyu at a steady pace. She walked through the crowding hallway, shoulder-checking anybody who got in her way. The long strides she made allowed her to efficiently keep up with Ganyu.
Following Ganyu into a club room labeled ‘Liyue Qixing,’ Signora was looking at both Keqing and Ningguang going over a few papers at a long table. Beidou, not a formal member, had her feet hiked up on the table. She was far too relaxed. Signora reached out to grip Ganyu by her upper arm, refusing to let go. Her breath was heavy, every huff causing Signora’s shoulders to rise and fall.
“What were you saying earlier, Ganyu?” She shook Ganyu a bit, an attempt to force the previous words back out. Hearing nothing but struggles from Ganyu, she leaned in closer. “I can’t hear you, Ganyu!” Signora’s taunts and jeers were made to purposely upset Ganyu. Though before any real damage could be done, Ningguang walked over with Beidou in tow. Beidou was more of a physical barrier, pushing Signora away from Ganyu.
Beidou slowly removed Ganyu from Signora’s grip by the shoulders, keeping her a very safe distance from Signora. While Ganyu got a bit of closure, Ningguang was face-to-face with Signora. Signora’s chest still rose and fell with fury. Her body shook with an almost uncontrollable urge to save face. The previous humiliation Ganyu caused for her latched on. Unshakeable, unforgettable, and undeniable.
Ningguang kept an appropriate distance with Signora, slowly guiding the woman to keep her hands at her sides and to stay civil. “Signora, we meet again.” Ningguang said in acknowledgment, nodding her head. “Though I supposed it’s typical I’d find you in such a situation…” She sounded almost disappointed, seeing the common circumstances and conditions they commonly met under.
Signora let out a dry laugh, her lip curling to form a sneer. Her loathing of Ningguang wasn’t entirely unheard of. She’d been so easily set off by Ningguang times before. Though they’ve never reached physical violence, there were endless episodes of verbal assault towards one another. Sharp tongues, poker faces, and condescending tones became the epitome of their encounters.
“Get out the way Ningguang. We can be civil, unless…” The trail-off of Signora’s voice left room for interpretation. Possibly a physical altercation or negotiation of the sort. Her words might’ve been vague, yet her now smug expression spoke volumes
Ningguang frowned slightly at how full of herself Signora was. Ningguang couldn’t believe she had to stoop down to Signora’s level in negotiation. She crossed her arms and pinched her brows together, not bothering to take another look at Signora. “How much.”
Signora smiled at the start of the negotiation, relaxing herself. “You should’ve started with that Ningguang.” She seemed excited, her demeanor filling with pride at how easily this entire situation had steered into something that’d benefit Signora, “Let’s see…” Signora tapped her chin before chiming. “Perhaps a mundane amount. Let’s settle on 30,000 mora.”
“15,000.” Ningguang said bluntly, finding a large demand of mora nonsensical for the situation
“25,000. Take it or leave it, Ningguang.” Signora challenged her, waiting for the continuation of the bid.
“You’re in no position to make demands, Signora.” Ningguang reminded Signora of her place in the situation, a bruise to her ego and cocky approach. “We’ll settle on 20,000 mora, that’s it.”
Signora grumbled at the price, salty that she’d been unsuccessful in their negotiation and had to settle for less than what she wanted to leech out of Ningguang. Seeing how sure Ningguang was of herself, Signora rolled her eyes and slowly nodded in agreement. “Fine, 20,000 mora. I’m expecting it by the end of the week, Ningguang.”
Ningguang smiled politely, holding her hand out to seal the deal. Signora glanced down at Ningguang’s hand and refused to shake her hand, slapping it aside with the back of her hand. “Keep your pleasantries, we’re not acquainted. Go get one of your club members to shake your hand…” she snarled under her breath and stuck her head out to look past Ningguang and towards Ganyu.
Signora waved at Ganyu with familiarity, trying to provoke her. “I’ll see you later, won’t I?” She chuckled and made a step to about-face, walking out in an overzealous manner with a bit of swagger to her steps.
Ganyu stood there physically shaken, her eyes widened a bit at the door left open, like Signora might come back unexpectedly. Her legs shook profusely with the earlier extortion of how fast she’d walked in order to stay out of Signora’s range. The torment and mockery had never felt this deterring before.
Beidou guided Ganyu to a seat, slowly sitting her down. Beidou stood on the side with Keqing while Ningguang stood right in Ganyu’s direct line of sight. Keqing’s eyes glinted with empathy for Ganyu, looking at how visibly affected she was after almost being dealt with by Signora.
Keqing’s hand was in a loosely formed fist, her knuckle pressing in a bit at the top of her lip. Her other hand came to Ganyu’s shoulder. She’d hesitated, unsure if physical contact had any place after the current events that just occurred. It was unsure if Keqing did this for Ganyu’s closure, or more reassurance for herself.
“Ganyu.” Ningguang snapped her fingers to get Ganyu out of this fear-induced trance and back into a state of awareness. Seeing that Ganyu still looked visibly shaken, Ningguang ordered another club member to shut the door.
When the door was finally closed shut, tears slowly ran down Ganyu’s cheek. Her vulnerability was on display now that nobody she hadn’t somewhat trusted was around to see it happen. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. The room was quiet except for the occasional sniffle from Ganyu and shaky breaths.
Ningguang’s gaze lingered on the door a few seconds longer, knitting her eyebrows. The lasting psychological impact Signora had left on Ganyu and how she’d been leeched off in order to protect someone else stuck with her.
“May we cross paths again, Signora,” Ningguang said under her breath, her eyes gleaming with disdain at Signora’s derision, “and I won’t be so courteous."