Chapter Text
Power and authority flowed through her. It felt like nothing was out of reach, beating Dottore, reuniting with her friends, returning to the moon… and yet.
Once she confirmed no trace of Dottore was still present, Columbina rushed to Sandrone.
Maybe the dawn was beautiful, maybe Teyvat was beautiful, her friends were beautiful, but still Columbina could only focus on her dear marionette.
The sight of her still and unmoving made it impossible to breathe.
Careful, gently…
Columbina had to be mindful of her dear Sandrone's delicate parts, she was the Trilune Goddess now after all.
Sandrone would be angry if she accidentally tripped one of her sensors for danger simply because of recklessness.
Carefully, steadily, she took Sandrone into her arms.
It was terribly silent.
She leaned closer, pressed her temple against light brown hair. Sandrone will be angry with Columbina for messing up her pretty hair like this. But it would be alright, Sandrone would grumble and fix it as easily as…
Columbina held Sandrone in her arms and heard nothing. Felt nothing. No metal gears clicking into place, no subtle grind of cogs shifting. Nothing.
Only silence and stillness.
Her forced breaths were the only noise there. It was annoying and inconvenient, how could she hear Sandrone if she was being so loud?
Then again, her dear Sandrone was much too bold and much too loud to be overshadowed by something as weak as Columbina's breathing.
The Trilune authority in her hummed just a little bit louder than her breaths.
She used it, not like Dottore, taking what wasn't his, using power that wasn't his.
It was Columbina's power, immense power she asked for and was given to her that could rewrite the laws of this world if she wished, and yet, all she wanted was to bring back what was hers.
Sandrone. Pretty doll, wake up.
Unfortunately, even this Trilunar authority had limitations.
Why?
Why can't she wake Sandrone up? Sandrone was hers, she should be able to-
Columbina pressed closer, nuzzled further into the scarce scent of bitter coffee, maybe the winds were muffling her hearing.
Gasps now. More of her chest tightened.
Each inhale and exhale only made the squeeze around her heart tighter, sharper, more unbearable. Painfully unbearable, even for a full-fledged moon goddess.
Columbina leaned lower to press her ear to Sandrone's chest. She ignored the sparking, gaping holes- hole. Back then even if she stood an arm length away, she would hear the rhythmic tick of clockwork parts. Steady, soothing, and so pleasantly loud.
But now…
Sandrone?
Columbina wanted to speak. Wanted to say something. Hearing her voice always got a rise out of her marionette, maybe this time will be the same.
But as much as Columbina tried, her throat could not make a sound and her tongue could not form the words. She couldn't speak. Even breathing didn't come easy.
How strange. A goddess who couldn't do anything.
Sandrone would surely laugh and mock her.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and though Columbina knew it was only her friends, she pulled Sandrone into her lap and held her closer.
Protective, possessive…
“I am not a toy, Columbina! So stop manhandling me!”
Oh.
She didn't know what came over her, but Columbina transported herself, Sandrone, and Pulonia to Silvermoon Hall. Sandrone would be furious if she left Pulonia behind, and she couldn't have that. Her Sandrone must be exhausted from working so much just to bring her back, Columbina should take care of her for a while. Annoying Sandrone was for later.
It would have been better to go to Sandrone's bedroom, even if just the one at the Experimental Bureau, but she couldn't risk it.
Silvermoon Hall was Columbina's, at the very least nobody could come in without her permission. Nobody could come and take away her dear marionette.
As if Columbina would even let anyone attempt it.
Columbina set Sandrone down on her most comfortable moon statue, though she suspected Sandrone would complain at the hard structure being cold and uncomfortable.
Oh.
Columbina slipped in next to Sandrone and pulled her marionette against her.
Watch the key! Watch the hair, her leg, her dress…
Columbina took care to make Sandrone as comfortable as possible, even as the marionette's voice shrieked along her thoughts. She brushed aside dirt and oil, and whatever tainted her dear marionette. The power of the moon, subtle and gentle, followed each brush of her fingers and left Sandrone as clean as her dear marionette typically demanded of herself when not working on her machines.
Although it hurt her, the silence and stillness, Columbina rested her head against Sandrone's chest, it wouldn't do to let Sandrone carry the weight of her key when she should be resting. It was easier to wrap her arms around her like this, easier to carry the burden for her dear Sandrone.
The smell of burnt wires, burnt cloth, charred metal and porcelain still lingered, but Columbina focused on the scent of coffee and cookies that stubbornly stuck to Sandrone no matter how much her marionette tried to get rid of it and no matter how much others tried to rid Sandrone of it.
It was such a comforting smell, why would anyone not like it?
However, Sandrone might have tried to get rid of it since Columbina once tried to bite her because of it. Maybe.
How could I have known you wouldn’t taste as sweet or be as soft and crumbly as the cookies you bake me?
Columbina had to try to know, didn't she?
That was the scientific method Sandrone always mentioned after all.
Sandrone had pinched her cheek painfully hard, and pinched both her cheeks even harder when she complained how her teeth hurt from biting hard porcelain.
Oh, Sandrone.
Columbina took Sandrone's hand and cradled it against her cheek.
Eventually, her lungs rattled a little bit less, although it still felt like she was downing jugs of those strong spirits Snezhnayans liked when Columbina breathed.
Ah.
She left her friends on that flying platform.
That was fine. They could get down on their own.
“Don't tell me your new friends can't handle a little drop? But are you seriously leaving them there?”
The marionette's expression was as clear as day in Columbina's mind.
Yes, Sandrone.
She curled up closer against her dear marionette.
You need me more, my dear Sandrone.
Her grief felt like a mountain stacked on top of her chest. With her new authority, it should be nothing, and yet, it felt like she was disappearing all over again.
A day, two days, on the third rise of the moon Columbina's throat felt less clogged by lava balls.
“Sandrone?”
Her voice didn't scratch, but it had been quiet for so long it startled her.
“Sandrone.”
Columbina’s breath hitched and faltered.
Not a twitch, not a single click of a tongue, or a growled “what?”.
“My Sandrone, my dear Sandrone,”
Columbina clutched the still puppet's hand tighter,
“you're so quiet. My Sandrone…”
It hurt. It hurt so much.
Columbina didn't know, she didn't know how hot tears could be nor did she truly know how fast happiness could turn into heartbreak.
So fast. Too fast. Columbina was used to grief being slow and gradual.
She pressed close against Sandrone, hid against her dear marionette as if it would protect her from the pain. As if her beloved Sandrone would keep her safe like she did in the past, like she always did.
Columbina gasped, and tremblingly murmured against cold and silent porcelain,
“Won't you say more mean things to me?”
Nothing.
Just horrible, horrible silence.
She allowed three days for herself. Three days to ignore the concern of her friends who visited and lingered at the entrance of Silvermoon Hall. Three days of heavy, suffocating silence.
Her kuuhenki informed her of her friends’ constant visits in the past few days, their worries and concern for her, for them both. She didn't respond in any way.
Columbina couldn't bear to leave Sandrone alone for even a second, so she stayed.
She could have this. They could give her this much, after all she had never selfishly asked for anything in her centuries of existence.
“Seriously? You fight to go back to your friends and now you're ignoring them? You're being stupid.”
Columbina wanted to huff and explain herself or better yet, ask questions to the scolding voice of Sandrone in her thoughts, ask questions that would surely annoy Sandrone. But she only mustered a brittle laugh.
“Oh, Sandrone…”
I hear you so perfectly in my mind.
Despite her complaints and harsh words, Sandrone was excellent at caring for organic beings.
Sandrone always made sure Columbina and the potted plants in her room were well-fed, though it was disguised as habit and a relaxing activity “since I have to deal with nuisances like you and incompetent subordinates!” as Sandrone used to say.
She complained a lot even as she baked bread or more filling pastries when Columbina stayed with her for entire afternoons. Cooked the occasional meal, and though Columbina didn't really care for elaborate meals, she ate.
Sandrone lectured her about balanced diets for organic beings and that only eating sweets weren't things to be done for Fatui of their status. Rosalyne said something similar before, so Columbina ate lunch even if she only wanted to try the pastries she could smell already baking in Sandrone's room.
When Columbina stayed for several days straight with the Marionette, Sandrone would spontaneously leave for the city and kick Columbina out or drag her along, to make sure her workspace and creations wouldn't be terrorized if Columbina was left unsupervised.
That is to say…
You wouldn't approve of what I'm doing.
The thought, the simple thought that Columbina would be wasting Sandrone's efforts of care for her, was what jolted Columbina from stillness.
Oh. That's right.
But still, Columbina's limbs were difficult to move. Not a drop of the Trilunar power inside her gave her the desire to move.
On the fourth day, she allowed her friends to come inside Silvermoon Hall. They should also be allowed to see Sandrone, especially Arlecchino. Arlecchino must have been devastated too.
Her friends came and went.
She heard them, sensed them, and vaguely understood their words of concern and comfort and offer of food, but Columbina didn't want- she couldn't look away from her dear Sandrone.
Couldn't leave the safety brought by the one she held dear, even if it now came as cold hands and deafening silence.
Although she sensed their pain and genuine desire to cheer up Columbina somehow, they didn't insist.
After all, even without anyone mentioning anything, everyone understood Columbina's time with Sandrone would end, and soon.
“Did you believe I would not need you once I assumed the Trilunar authority? Was that part of your calculations? Your formula?”
Columbina asked during one of the few times she could speak.
Her words were unhurried, blase in her usual way and blase in the way that always somehow irritated Sandrone.
“My dear Sandrone,”
Columbina cupped Sandrone's perfect porcelain face,
“power is different from safety.”
Sandrone's peaceful face could almost fool Columbina into thinking her dear marionette was simply conducting regular maintenance.
Even now, a part of Columbina still anticipated a verbal lashing from staring so intently.
‘Staring’ at Sandrone's face was always followed by an angry rant or demand to know what Columbina wanted. Funny that it was when Columbina peeked and truly looked at Sandrone that she was unnoticed.
There were times Sandrone would be too engrossed in her work, so focused that not even Columbina propping her chin on Sandrone's shoulder would earn Columbina a scolding.
Without looking up from her work, Sandrone would reach behind or beside her, wherever Columbina was at that time, and place her free hand on top of Columbina's head. Not a pat, not a push, her hand was simply there.
Then Sandrone would say something along the lines of,
“Not right now, Columbina. I'm on to something.” or “Don’t get close, it's dangerous.”
She would say it calmly. Not upset, not distant, simply steady and focused.
It was strange enough that on the third time it happened, Columbina couldn't help her curiosity. She opened her eyes and peeked above her mask from the tea table she was boredly lounging on.
Sandrone's unique existence had made it obvious, but it was only now that Columbina could describe Sandrone's beauty as something perfectly made with love. Every curve, every detail from her hair to her clothes, to the winding key on her back, everything about Sandrone was close to perfection as anything could be.
A meticulously crafted product of love.
Columbina had watched quietly, fascinated by the determination in Sandrone's face and movements. It was in those moments that Columbina learned Sandrone could murmur thoughts so gently and frown in such pure confusion her face would twist in ways hard porcelain shouldn't be capable of. In those moments, Columbina learned how softly Sandrone could smile and learned the color blue from Sandrone's eyes too.
Columbina always shut her eyes and pretended to sleep when Sandrone turned to look at her though. As such, she had never seen that blue gaze directly on her, and Columbina never will.
She traced the shape of Sandrone's nose, slowly, almost...reverently.
She hadn't known then.
It was only now, only now, that Columbina realized she had paid attention too. She learned her Sandrone, and her former co-workers despite her detachment and lack of belonging.
She knew Rosalyne hated gods, destroyed those that opposed her revenge, but taught Columbina of tea parties and social graces. Knew Rosalyne had a soft spot for children, and that despite how old Columbina truly was, Rosalyne reserved the same patience with her.
She knew Arlecchino would be the most loyal to the Tsaritsa, so long as the Tsaritsa's goal was to bring down Celestia and the Heavenly Principles, Arlecchino would heel, and Arlecchino would sacrifice parts of her, sacrifice herself, but never sacrifice the weak that relied on her. She would teach you, arm you, guard you until you can survive in a most cruel world.
And Sandrone, Columbina's Sandrone…
Her Sandrone was lost, directionless, but curious, always so driven by the need to understand, despite denying it constantly.
The Fatui had answers, sought answers, and really, that was in part why Sandrone became a Harbinger. The other reason might simply be because the Tsaritsa had claimed her, dangled a purpose in front of her when it felt like nothingness was her future.
Sandrone did not pen rules, she looked and she studied them. She didn't seek to change you, she sought to pick apart your pieces, to understand them, so that she could assemble your best possibility, your best possible form.
When Columbina ran away from the Fatui, she had wondered why Sandrone didn't simply burn the entirety of the Frost Moon Scions’ enclave to the ground.
Columbina was too weak to do anything and at that time had barely cared to do so. Sandrone could create enough firepower to raze everything, and then she could go back to doing her research uninterrupted.
Silvermoon Hall was shielded and hidden from everyone Columbina did not care to see, but Sandrone would find her.
If Sandrone had truly wished, her brilliant mind could have found a way. If Sandrone had stepped forward and personally led the charge, Nod Krai truly would have been the Tsaritsa's, or completely burnt to the ground. Instead, she allowed her subordinates to go rogue with their orders, allowed them to harass people in a half-hearted attempt to obey the Palestar Edict.
Aside from that one visit to the Curatorium of Secrets, to Nefer, Sandrone didn't bother stepping out again.
Columbina was secondary to kuuvahki research for Sandrone when it came to the Edict.
And that was Sandrone's parting gift for Columbina. Her usual barb-covered well-wishes.
“You were quite proud of the Bureau. Strangely so, considering it isn't as pretty as Pulonia,”
Columbina grumbled, half angry and half amused, wholly melancholic.
“You're lucky none of the moon fragments crushed Nasha Town. Dottore would have won otherwise.”
Silence stretched on.
Columbina sighed. She gently pulled Sandrone on top of her, and rested her dear marionette's head on her shoulder, did her best to make her embrace as comfortable as it could be.
“I would have been angry with you too… I can also get angry now, Sandrone.”
At the very least, the presence of the Bureau reduced the Wild Hunt occurrences in their immediate area.
Still…
The Bureau was large and truthfully ugly compared to peaceful forests. It was obtrusive, out of place, but it was also so carefully designed. Mechanically efficient and equipped with all the waste management and shutdown systems Sandrone always wished the Doctor would put in place. Sandrone cursed him out so frequently for these, Columbina eventually learned some technical engineering terms.
Columbina hadn't cared at that time, but now that she thought about it…
“Oh, Sandrone. I should beat your head in for all the trouble you caused Lauma and the animals.”
With her newly found connection or more accurately, reestablished connection with the people of Nod Krai and Nod Krai itself, Columbina knew the Frost Moon scions’ dissatisfaction with Sandrone, but also…
She liked that Sandrone was nearby, close enough to visit, whenever she wished. Columbina never did, not until later, but the thought had comforted her, somewhat.
Though the threat of being found by the Fatui was even higher with Sandrone near, the comfort of Sandrone's proximity also lingered. It was difficult at that time to understand the confusing emotions she felt.
Maybe even then… if Sandrone had called for Columbina at the entrance of Silvermoon hall, perhaps she would have let her marionette in… Perhaps.
Oh.
Truly, Nod Krai was fortunate Sandrone was one of the Harbingers sent by the Tsaritsa. If nothing else, she was more conscientious than the rest of her ex-colleagues.
Besides, although powerful, Lauma alone could not have stopped Sandrone.
The Marionette was smart enough to know the Frost Moon Scions had several weak points, smart enough to make back up plans. She very easily used Vilemina against Lauma too.
The Frost Moon scions, the Traveler, Lauma… they were all lucky Sandrone could never truly let go of what was once hers.
Columbina traced patterns on Sandrone's back, avoiding cracks, avoiding the unmoving key. She mapped the places she used to touch out of curiosity, much to Sandrone's embarrassment and annoyance at that time.
Columbina was filled with absolute conviction and the knowledge of the past.
And with that, she could say: Sandrone spared Nod Krai for her own beliefs.
Though Sandrone hated waste and inefficiency, and would rather not decimate everything around her just for her goals.
She had finesse, as Sandrone usually put it.
The Marionette could do it. She could be brutal, ruthless, especially when there was a wrong she could make right.
Destruction of knowledge equaled a cut tongue, interference with her machines and important equipment meant loss of hands, looking over her shoulder and getting hit with a hammer resulted in a flick to a forehead and thorough fussing over something that barely hurt…
Sandrone was Fontainian like that.
Returning the moon marrow, attacking Rerir, allowing Columbina to walk out of the Bureau without obstruction, and other quieter movements behind the scenes served Sandrone well by empowering Columbina and her friends against their common enemies.
Yes, it served her well, but all of those involved stretching the boundaries of her orders.
The Marionette would have been questioned and eventually penalized, if she had lived.
Arlecchino's actions against Dottore were salvageable, but Sandrone's execution of the Palestar Edict before the Traveler arrived in Nod Krai could be graciously called lackluster. Realistically, it could be called an example of incompetence.
However, Sandrone was far from incompetent, and despite her harsh words, she was more likely to look at the bigger picture compared to anyone else.
Oh, Sandrone…
Always moving with two-fold, three- or more intentions in mind.
They were lucky Sandrone's goals, her distaste for Dottore, and her desire to save Columbina aligned so perfectly, that everyone could band together.
Or was I unfortunate, Sandrone? Was it bad luck that everything aligned so perfectly, it became logical for you to sacrifice yourself?
Save Columbina. Save the world. Kill Dottore.
Did Sandrone make one of those three circle diagrams to decide what to do, but ended up with one circle from the obvious overlap? Or was it simply written as a to-do list?
“Is that what you understood from my answer?”
Columbina pressed a kiss to the tip of Sandrone's ear. That should have earned her an embarrassed shout by now.
The hand that cradled Sandrone's head trembled.
Columbina willed it to steady.
“My ideal place…did you think with the moon under the false sky and my powers fully restored that I would have it?”
No answer came, but that was also what her Sandrone would have answered.
“You're not wrong. My dear Sandrone, you're not mistaken.”
Her friends, her chosen family, her home, were all a mere thought away.
Columbina giggled, only because she could picture the put off expression on her marionette's face.
“Me? Care about you? Absolutely not!”
Breathe in deep.
Exhale.
“You're not mistaken, but no amount of divinity could make me drink coffee enough to smell like it. What about that part, Sandrone? You missed that part.”
Columbina laid Sandrone on her other side, careful, gentle. Afterwards, she pushed herself up to her knees.
Sandrone's face fit perfectly in Columbina's hands.
How cruel to have that realization only now.
Columbina pressed her forehead against Sandrone's, hoping, still achingly hoping that blue would meet her now open eyes.
“I have the power of the Three Moons now,”
Columbina whispered,
"and I still wish to sleep in your bed.”
Wish to have the scent of extra bitter coffee and the sound of the scratch of your pen on paper to lull me to sleep.
What could Columbina do to have that?
A smile, full and genuine, spread on trembling lips.
“I may never feel the same as I felt with you, Sandrone.”
Something Columbina had known, since before she saw the past through the Moon gate, was Sandrone and Arlecchino's agreement.
The two often talked about serious things between them even when Columbina was napping nearby. Rarely in detail, always in codes and confusing words made even more confusing with Sandrone's, what was it? Duplicitous speech. That was the word Rosalyne and Arlecchino used.
Their more cordial interactions were largely in part of their shared home, Fontaine, at least that was according to Rosalyne.
It was how Columbina knew for certain.
Arlecchino was going to bring Sandrone and Pulonia back to Fontaine.
It...made sense. Her creator's grave was there, Sandrone would want to be close to family.
Knowing what she knew now of Sandrone, Columbina couldn't blame her for wanting to return to Fontaine, but it...irritated Columbina. No. It distressed her.
Why couldn't Sandrone stay with her?
Almost immediately, the thought brought something like shame, after all, aside from her usual snide remarks, Sandrone never tried to stop her from going home.
She didn't want to be unfair to Sandrone.
Sandrone never asked or demanded anything from Columbina, how could she deny her dear marionette this?
She won't.
But that only meant she should make the most of her remaining time.
She shouldn't give her dear Sandrone silence and negligence.
When the moon reached its peak on the fourth day, Columbina sang.
She sang endlessly and tirelessly the whole day except between seven and ten in the morning. She ate some during Sandrone’s sleep hours.
But everyday since the fourth till the last, Columbina serenaded her dear Sandrone.
The previously silent hall ended up echoing Columbina's grief and longing.
And sometimes her joy, her gratitude, and-...
Surprisingly, singing still brought her comfort.
Her voice came easier and easier the more she sang. Although there were more than one occasion Columbina choked on her own sobs.
An unpleasant experience.
She wished Sandrone teased her about it and explained why it happened.
Her friends’ visits staggered and dwindled in frequency over that time.
At some point even Lauma stopped staying for long.
Understandable, as everyone had plenty to do after all the chaos, and well, if even Lauma could end up crying just by listening to Columbina's singing, then everyone was better off staying away for a few more days.
I used to scare people with my singing, now I make them sad. Is this an update or downgrade, Sandrone?
It took some time, but the ache eventually lightened. Somewhere along the way, Columbina found herself smiling and giggling at a memory or two or three or more of Sandrone. She understood them better with new eyes.
“I saw your past, Sandrone.”
Columbina's darling doll's head rested on her lap.
“You have an awful habit of prefacing things you don't want me to know with ‘Don't tell, Columbina!’. It makes me wonder if you suspected I'd be able to look into the past even then.”
She carefully brushed the hair on Sandrone's forehead with her fingers.
“I didn't watch. Mostly. But maybe I will now. I'll peek, just a little. You'll let me.”
Her heart still ached. But now she knew for certain it was simply full of love.
So full to the brim, it overflowed, and it was all Sandrone's fault.
Sandrone poured too much care into Columbina.
Although Columbina shouldn't blame Sandrone alone.
After all, Columbina was the one who took it all, the one too greedy to refuse anything from Sandrone. She liked the way Sandrone paid attention to her too much to share.
On the eighth dawn, when the sun rose and the moon disappeared from the sky, Columbina cradled Sandrone in her arms and brought her marionette and dear Pulonia to Arlecchino.
🌑🗝
Time passed as it was always meant to.
But unlike the five hundred years of longing for home, the year that passed was exciting and full of new experiences with her friends and new home.
She was with Lauma, listening to several animals disputing over stolen bread when she felt it. Like a tiny drop that rippled across the moon's reflection in a still ocean.
Columbina's head snapped in the direction of the port. She moved too fast, too suddenly, it startled the animals and Lauma.
Columbina was gone before Lauma could even ask.
She should apologize for leaving without a word and probably worrying Lauma, but Columbina couldn't help herself.
She could never forget.
“Sand–”
Columbina called before her feet even touched the ground,
“--rone?”
Her voice faltered at the sight of the woman in Fontainian clothes.
Light brown hair, deep blue eyes, and-
“Not my Sandrone,”
she huffed, nearly growled. Unusual for her.
Something like hostility or frustration replaced the agonizing hope and excitement that slammed into Columbina's chest the very moment she sensed Sandrone's energy in Nod Krai.
Sandrone was too unique, and had been too absent in Columbina's immediate space to pass by unnoticed.
But the instinctive excitement made her pulse race too hard and now Columbina's heart ached. It ached and ached and hurt just as badly as the first time she lost her dear Sandrone.
Her stomach churned and dropped at the woman's surprise and obvious lack of recognition.
“How do you know my-?”
The woman’s voice was light yet forceful, elegant sounding and yet impatience tinged the lilts of her tone. It was Sandrone's voice.
The woman frowned and shook her head.
“Sorry. You must be an acquaintance of my predecessor, but unfortunately I have no memories from her time.”
It was Sandrone's voice. That is, if Sandrone was calmer, and in a particularly rare good mood to be patient, even with strangers. A Sandrone that would actually fall back into polite decorum simply to avoid meddlesome interactions with irrelevant people.
It was also Sandrone's voice if she was a little bit older.
Columbina hated her.
Hate was a strong word, a strong emotion. She didn't know she was capable of it.
Interesting. She was learning more and more about herself these days than the last few centuries of her existence.
Another woman in Fontainian clothes elbowed Sandrone-who-was-not-Sandrone in the stomach.
The brunette scowled and glared at the taller dark haired, long haired Fontainian, while rubbing the point of contact.
Ah.
Columbina hadn't paid attention. They were the last group to disembark the ship. A group of two. Only two.
Columbina's jaw ticked. How strange.
“Hah, what are you-?”
The dark haired Fontainian jerked her chin towards Columbina, a gesture the Moon Goddess had learned meant “Look. Look properly!” from interacting with the Traveler and her other friends.
Deep ocean blue eyes carefully studied Columbina. A gaze Columbina had not felt on her for over a year now. A gaze she had never returned, until now. Only now, when that gaze on her was different.
“Oh. You're the Moon Goddess.”
Another nudge and in a polite, respectful but glaringly reluctant tone,
“Apologies. It must be inconvenient to not have an acquaintance or such remember you.”
Inconvenient? Heh.
Columbina could only stare, it seemed like her jaws were welded shut just as Sandrone once threatened to do so. She wasn't quite sure what to do. Even if a part of her was itching to move, to do something.
And acquaintance?
Columbina had clearly and explicitly declared them friends!
The surging restlessness suddenly paused when she heard it.
In a grumbled murmur that was painfully like her dear Sandrone’s, not meant to be heard but heard nonetheless by Columbina's ears,
“...almost didn't recognize you from the statues without the veil.”
An exhale of a laugh slipped past Columbina's lips.
Her restlessness, her anger, apparently, dimmed to something cooler, calmer, more like frigid cryo than raging pyro.
A new experience. It was a surprise for Columbina, to still feel new things despite the eventful year she had.
“My name is Columbina Hyposelenia. I’d rather you use it.”
Although her voice remained as soft as usual, Columbina felt like she was copying Sandrone back when she was threatening Lauma and the Frostmoon Scions.
Not entirely lying, not completely telling the truth.
She had gone still when she realized the one standing before her was not her Sandrone. Columbina felt it in the way her legs felt sluggish on her first step towards the visitor.
But her succeeding movements felt smoother, easier.
She stood before the marionette.
This not-Sandrone was taller, a hand's width taller than before, taller than Columbina.
But that was no problem.
Columbina floated just a bit, her fingertips touched smooth and warm porcelain-? Oh, something else, a synthetically soft layer over familiar porcelain. Hmm.
Sandrone's cheek was warmer than in the past. Warmer than the last time Columbina had held her.
Columbina leaned in and pressed her lips against Sandrone-not-Sandrone’s.
Hands grasped Columbina's shoulders, but instead of pushing, not-Sandrone stumbled back.
“What-?”
Her gloved hand covered half of her face, but Columbina could see the red flush of her cheeks.
“What was that for?!”
Columbina smiled, eyes intensely focused on blue like they've never been used before.
“Moon's blessing,”
she said lightly.
Bunched eyebrows and twitching lips from the effort of stifling a snarl. Oh.
This not-Sandrone had funny familiar habits.
She dropped down as usual to the ground with a twirl.
“Welcome to Nod Krai. I'll see you around.”
Columbina transported herself to Silvermoon hall, the confused and outraged squeak of “What?” lingering in her ears, especially in the silence of her abode.
She left, simply because she didn't want to leave.
Even without her memories, even without her recognition, the marionette still drew Columbina in, still fascinated her, still made curiosity bubble and creep until her lungs felt too full to breathe.
Despite the ache of loss and the hurt of abandonment, seeing the marionette with her own eyes again still brought a sense of peace, as if something restless in her finally settled.
Nevertheless, when snowstorms settle, the quiet and the blanket of white that follows make it easier to notice things. Things like itchy frustration and the greedy want that made Columbina's fingers twitch from the desire to bring Sandrone to her side or go back to her.
It would be so easy, so effortless.
Ah. Columbina forgot how greedy she could be.
She spent so much time with Lauma and the others, empathy had almost become second nature to her.
Well, she was the Trilune Goddess. She could be as greedy as she wanted to be.
This time she won't let even the Heavenly Principles get in the way.
She patted the head of a concerned kuuhenki who approached.
This present Sandrone might not remember Columbina, but that's alright. Sandrone will know her again. It was inevitable. Columbina would make sure of it
“I hope you're ready, my dear.”