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Columbina had always loved machines.
They were predictable. Obedient.
And all it took was a single touch for it to do as she pleased.
“Ad astra abyssosque, welcome to the Adventure’s Guild,” Katheryne greets them politely.
“Oh hey, Katheryne! It's been a while since we last saw you,” Paimon, as excited as ever, flies forward.
“Greetings, you have arrived just in time.”
“Oh? Have you been waiting for us?”
“Unfortunately, yes. There was a recent commission assigned, tasked only for ‘the Traveler and her companion.’ The origin of this letter is unknown.”
“A mysterious letter?” Paimon ponders, tilting her head. “Who do you think it's from?”
The Traveler grabs the letter, reading through it.
Paha Isle, 2 p.m. sharp.
My assistance will be there to pick you up.
Don’t make me wait.
“Paha Isle… but isn’t that the Fatui base?” Paimon meets the Traveler’s gaze curiously.
With the letter still in hand, the two followed the instructions—arriving at the headquarters of the Fatui.
As expected, the Fatui were wary of their presence. Soldiers froze in place at their approach, hands hovering near weapons, eyes darting as if weighing whether to intervene.
“Huh… guess we should have worn our Fatui masks,” Paimon comments, glancing around nervously.
The Traveler crosses her arms, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “And start working under them? I heard they give generous mora,” she teases.
“What! Of course not! You can’t just waltz in there!” Paimon flitted nervously, hands gesturing wildly. “Do you know how many people there are? The soldiers, the traps, the… the—ugh! You could get captured!”
The Traveler hums, scanning the shadows as Paimon rattles on, calculating the safest path forward. A cough slices through the tension, and they both turn.
“You must be the Traveler and her flying pet.”
A woman taller than them stepped forward. She wore the standard Fatui uniform, her gaze lazy—but sharp beneath the surface.
“Pet?! Paimon is not a pet!” Paimon argues, but the woman seems to brush her off, guiding them through their headquarters.
The hallway felt narrower than usual, shadows stretching unnaturally as the Traveler passed. With every turn, soldiers’ eyes flicked toward them, wary, calculating, and it made her stomach tighten. Paimon flitted closer, wings brushing against her shoulder, a nervous vibration in the air.
From behind the next door came the unmistakable sound of a quarrel, sharp and alive.
“For the last time, that is a hammer! Not a screwdriver!”
“I thought it resembled you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?!”
The Traveler’s hand instinctively went to the doorframe. The voices froze at a knock.
“Ma’am? I brought them here like you asked.”
The door swung open with a creak. Sandrone stood there, arms crossed, expression perfectly disinterested—but the tight line of her jaw betrayed a flicker of alertness. Behind her, Columbina’s smile bloomed, mischievous and warm, eyes lighting up at the sight of the Traveler as if she’d been waiting this whole time.
“Took you long enough,” Sandrone snapped, voice sharp enough to make the tools on the table tremble slightly.
“Sandrone? You were the one who called us here?” Paimon asked, hovering nervously. Her wings fluttered closer to the Traveler, sensing the taut energy radiating from the room.
Columbina chuckled softly, stepping beside the Traveler, eyes glinting with amusement. She always knows exactly how to get under Sandrone’s skin, the Traveler thought.
Sandrone’s gaze flicked to Columbina. “Is there anyone else here who would commission you?”
“Oh… you have a point there…” Paimon murmured, tilting her head as if she were piecing together the situation.
Sandrone shook her head irritably, jaw tightening. “My PUPPETs are acting weird again!! I don’t have any subordinates left to fetch me the materials—most were either killed, ran away, or have been serving under Arlechinno ever since the Doctor incident—that maniac! Always giving me a hard time, dead or alive!!” Her hands gestured sharply as she paced, frustration radiating off her in waves.
“Your puppets? What’s wrong with your puppets?” Paimon asked, circling one of the idle figures, curiosity flickering across her face.
“See for yourself,” Sandrone grumbled and reluctantly activated the puppet. Its eyes lifted slowly, scanning the room. The moment they landed on Columbina, it moved with unerring precision, striding over and embracing her without hesitation.
Columbina’s quiet chuckle resonated softly in the workshop, a sound that only seemed to rattle Sandrone further. She lunged to pull the puppet away, but its grip remained firm, almost defiant.
“Oh! For the love of the Archons, enough!” Sandrone barked, snapping her fingers. The puppet froze instantly, stilling mid-step as if it had never moved.
The Traveler stepped closer, brow furrowed. “May I take a look?”
“Go ahead, but you won’t find anything I haven’t already seen,” Sandrone muttered, a flicker of offense crossing her features.
As the Traveler inspected each joint and limb, her eyes caught a subtle shimmer of particles scattered across the puppet. Everything appeared intact. So why had I seen them? she wondered.
A tense pause filled the workshop, broken only by the soft whir of mechanisms. The Traveler reached for the nape, extending her elemental sight. Small traces of Kuuvaki shimmered faintly beneath the surface.
Oh.
Her gaze shifted. Columbina, standing innocently beside her, had a playful smile tugging at her lips. A quiet, almost imperceptible giggle escaped her.
Of course. Nothing mechanical should react to her that way.
The Traveler huffed, pulling back slightly.
“What’s wrong? Did you find anything?” Paimon asked, her wide eyes reflected genuine curiosity and a little worry.
The Traveler shook her head, bringing a hand to her chin and pretending to ponder.
“I am not sure… maybe the wires are misplaced,” she offered, voice calm but measured, careful not to betray her thoughts.
Sandrone rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply as she dragged the puppet back. “That would be impossible. I made sure everything was perfectly attached in its rightful place.” She shot a glance at the Traveler, irritation clear in the tight line of her jaw.
A pause hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension, before she muttered, “Now that I think about it… why her?”
Columbina shifted closer to the puppet, tilting her head with a teasing smile. “Maybe because I am the Moon Goddess?”
Sandrone stiffened, crossing her arms, lips pressing into a thin line. “Don’t be ridiculous. This puppet doesn’t recognize you; there must be something within her system.” Her tone carried a mix of exasperation and disbelief, as though she was talking herself into believing it.
With a defeated sigh, Sandrone turned toward the table and began listing the materials for the Traveler to collect, her movements brisk and precise.
The Traveler watched quietly, noting every twitch of the brunette’s hands and the faint narrowing of her eyes. Patiently waiting for the list.
If it wasn’t for Paimon’s presence and innocence, this whole back-and-forth trip would have exhausted her. Perhaps returning wasn’t even necessary, the Traveler reasons, because sooner or later Sandrone would realize the situation.
A soft voice breaks the quiet, cutting through the clatter of tools.
“Is it fixed yet?” Columbina asks, hovering behind the brunette with a curious look. She watches how delicately Sandrone handles the puppet’s mechanics.
“Stop distracting me. I am trying to focus,” she hisses.
“This reminds me of Snezhnaya,” Columbina hums. “You used to work tirelessly at nights… even let me sleep on your bed.”
“Wha—THAT was because I happened to have never used it before!?” Sandrone snaps, turning around to glare.
“So machines don’t need rest… How odd…” Columbina smiles warmly, taking a step closer to grab hold of her wrist.
“Machine—!? Are you trying to pick a fight??” she protests, leaning back against the edge of the table, her eyes narrowing.
Columbina steps closer, tilting her head with a teasing smile. “I am merely reminiscing about our past and now thinking of our future…”
“You? Thinking about the future? What a joke.”
“I want to take you to the moon.”
“The moon?! What makes you think I want to go there?!”
“Aren’t you a little curious?” Columbina’s smile grows as she leans in, their lips inches apart.
“Why should I? It’s probably filled with dirt and dust anyway…” The brunette mumbles, turning to face the other way.
Sandrone glances at Columbina, whose smile falters and her grip loosens, slipping from the brunette’s wrist.
Her stomach twisted at the sight.
“I, uhm… I… suppose I can do some research on it…”
Her face lit up once more,
“That doesn’t mean I want to go. I am merely heading there for research purposes,” Sandrone quickly adds.
“Then I will make sure to tidy it up for your arrival.”
Sandrone stiffens at the response, her gaze flickering down to her lips for a moment allowing the other woman to lean in and steal a kiss.
For a moment, the brunette froze, caught between resistance and curiosity — then slowly gave in, tilting her head to the side. She savored the soft pressure against her lips, every small gear inside her frame spinning faster of surprise and something she refused to name. Before she could ease the tension curling in her shoulders, the Moon Goddess pulled back, leaving Sandrone blinking up at her with a reluctant frown.
“How interesting… I always thought it might taste like machine oil…” Columbina mused, eyes glittering with mischief.
Sandrone blinked rapidly, scowling. “Machine oil?! Now you are really pushing it!”
“It’s true,” Columbina replied, voice teasing. “The night we spent together… you always had a lingering scent of metal and oil.”
“Why you… first you barge into my room! Steal my bed! And now you complain about my smell?! I-I’ve had enough of your nonsense. Leave!” Sandrone huffed, pushing at her with as much authority as she could muster, though her fingers twitched involuntarily where they had brushed.
Columbina could only chuckle, warm and unapologetic. She reached forward, intertwining her pinky with Sandrone’s. “Then I’ll come for you on the next full moon…”
Before Sandrone could argue further, an irritatingly loud voice cut through the moment.
“Sandrone! We brought the materials just like you asked!” Paimon shouted, wings fluttering excitedly. Both women pulled back reflexively. Sandrone’s glare softened slightly at the sight of the neatly packed bags, and her shoulders relaxed — just enough.
“Hmph… I half-expected you’d get lost, given the time,” she muttered, rifling through the materials with a faint smile, picking up each piece and checking the quality with quiet amusement.
“You look like you’re in a better mood. Did something good happen?” Paimon asked, grin wide and innocent.
Sandrone’s expression immediately dropped. “What… no?! Just stay out of my way!” she snapped, slamming the door behind them.
The Traveler turned to Columbina, who shrugged innocently, lips curved in barely-suppressed amusement.
“What was that all about?” Paimon wondered aloud, tilting her head. “Do you think they had a fight?”
The Traveler chuckled, dragging the clueless Paimon along. “Some things are best left unsaid.”
Back inside the workshop, Sandrone muttered under her breath as she laid out the materials. The faint scent of oil and metal clung to the air. She carefully turned the puppet over, the clock ticking steadily behind her, each second pressing insistently as her hands moved with practiced precision, separating components piece by piece.
Something caught her eye — a faint irregularity lingering along the puppet’s frame. Her fingers paused mid-motion. Heart pounding, she grabbed a magnifier, scrutinizing every detail more closely.
Her breath hitched.
Traces of Kuuvaki shimmered faintly along the joints.
The realization hit her in a cold, sickening chain, thoughts tumbling over one another in relentless clarity. Her grip tightened, knuckles whitening.
It had been her all along. It always had been.
“COLUMBINAAAA!”