Chapter Text
1. Alain — A Kiss on the Brow
“Gah, my joints are killing me!” Alain let out a groan as Marionette propped the window open, “it’s this weather, c’est insupportable.”
“I told you we shouldn’t have gone out today.” Marionette sniffed a bit, adjusted the bottom of her skirt as her core chirped around for a moment. “Pulonia, get the fire going.”
The larger automaton inclined his head, kneeling over the wood stove and turning the dial at its side. Marionette went to the back of the workshop, collecting a large wool blanket from a pile of clothing she had yet to sort through.
She returned to Alain’s side, laying the blanket over his lap before pushing his chair closer to the fire.
“I’m going to make some tea.” She declared, snapping her finger once to activate the smaller automaton crouching by the wood stove.
“No, no, there’s a bottle of wine we haven’t finished.” Alain complained, waving his hand around. “Fetch that for me instead.”
Marionette rolled her eyes, “you’ve already ruined your liver, old man. Let’s not make it worse.”
“Ah Marie, what would I do if you were not looking over me.” He laughed a bit as the automaton drew water and set it to heat over the fire Pulonia had started.
“I’m just returning the favour.” She crossed her arms, “you promised we’d go over catalytic conversion today.”
“Hmm.” Alain brushed the end of his chin, his beard had grown some since he’d stopped shaving it.
“You promised.” She repeated, he was growing more wistful with each passing day.
“Ah but look at this weather.” Alain gestured outside, “it is our new Hydro Dragon mucking up the works, someone must go and read him a story to soothe his nerves. I’ve heard we’ve had some very interesting trials as of late, all to do with mismanagement during the Cataclysm. I don’t imagine he is having an easy time with it.”
“What drivel are you spewing now.” Marionette scoffed a bit, “I told you, we aren’t going all the way to the Court, no matter how much you insist. You’ve given those fools enough, you must focus on your own work.”
“You won’t even take an old man to see an Opera, how cold, Marie.”
She pushed the tea-making automaton to the side, pouring the hot water out of the kettle herself and setting chamomile tea to step.
“You don’t actually mean that.” Marionette said, bringing out two tea cups and polishing them in the light. “They don’t put on shows there anymore, not like they used to.”
“So much of this world is changing.” Alain sighed, “I wonder if it will be kind to you, Marie. I worry sometimes that it was to your detriment to keep you here all for an old man to have some company.”
“I have forever to learn about the outside world.” Marionette touched her hand to Pulonia’s shoulder, pointing to the padded chair in the corner. “And only a limited amount to learn from you.”
“Hmm,” Alain tilted his head, his blue eyes the only thing on his face untouched by his eighty years of life. “I still think it would be best for you to have some human companions.”
“Why? You shunned them and it's worked out just fine.”
“I had some misfortune, with René and…the others.” Alain mused, “but humanity is much more beautiful than any of us could ever give it credit for, all of my best ideas came from watching people live their lives. Tell me something, Marie, is there anything you wish for?”
“Not really.”
She caught the disappointment in his eyes, the quiet disapproval as he rolled his gnarled fingers over the wool blanket and picked at the stray pills.
“But.” His gaze raised as she spoke, “I know what I don’t want.”
“Ah.” he smiled, “that is a start.”
Pulonia brought a chair up underneath her, turning back to pick up both tea cups and handing them over.
“Go rest, Pulonia.” Marionette said, “you’ve worked enough.”
“I am pleased that you like it.” Alain said as Pulonia went to the higher level of the workshop, “I figured you needed a companion to keep you safe, I modelled it after Seymour who helped Mary-ann with her work in the Marechausse.”
“Him.”
“Hmm?”
“You are pleased that I like him.” Marionette corrected, “you should treat all of your creations with the same amount of respect, I think.”
“Ahaha,” Alain smiled, “yes, yes, tu as raison. My old age…makes my mind much slower than it ought to be.”
“Don’t be foolish, old man, you’re still as sharp as ever.” Marionette hid her smile with a sip of tea. “Which is why you’ll tell me about catalytic conversion.”
“Ah, this again.” He coughed a bit, “it’s truly a droll subject, Marie. Why don’t we talk about ways to reduce air resistance or aerodynamics? The future is in the skies, I think.”
“But that’s easy.” Marionette sighed, “and enough about flying ships, it’s a fantasy.”
“I like to think you will fulfill this old man’s wish some day.” Alain chuckled, “you are clever enough to manage it, the Khaenri'anh’s did it.”
“And look where that got them.”
“You can blame the Heavenly Principles for that travesty.”
“Alain!” Marionetted hissed, her eyes drawn to the covered roof, “you never know who is listening.”
“How paranoid these times have made us.” Alain sighed, “very well, but let us talk in the workshop proper, I have mind to show you the first catalytic converter I made. Now, this was when we still used Rhodium, the ones made these days are much smoother, une grande amélioration. But I am still fond of this one, I used it to make a bike for Mary-Ann. Now, help me up, would you?”
“We need to get you a cane.” Marionette stood up, grabbing his shaky hand and lifting him to his feet. “I’ll have Pulonia fashion one out of cypress wood for you. The last thing we need is for you to have a bad fall.”
“Oui, oui.” He said, pressing a light kiss to her brow, “how thoughtful you are.”
That last kiss still lingered as she’d finished patting down the dirt over his grave, gasping a bit as Pulonia dropped a heavy coat on her shoulders.
“I don’t need it.” She’d tossed it off, the heavy rain echoing over her porcelain skin. “I told you to stay in the house, I—”
She’d thrown herself to the ground, fingers digging into the grass as Pulonia had settled above her, his wide frame shielding her from the world.
2. Rosalyne — A Kiss on the Cheek
“For the last time,” Sandrone flushed, “I told you I didn’t touch your stupid roses.”
Rosalyne crossed her arms, “I don’t believe you.”
“What?” Sandrone exclaimed, “what do you mean you—”
“There were large footprints near the edge of the bushes, I had a few of my subordinates take a look and what do you know, only Pulonia’s could match them!”
“That’s ridiculous.” Sandrone rolled her eyes, “why would he even do such a thing, Pulonia doesn’t go against my orders.”
“My point exactly.” Rosalyne sat up, her tea cup almost spilling. “So I must ask you again, Sandrone. What did I do to you to merit you taking it out on my prize-winning roses. Jealous that her Majesty is sending me on the Mondstadt assignment instead of you, is that it?”
“Yeah right, like I care about going to bully some weak wind god.” Sandrone rolled her eyes, “I’m far too busy with my own work and Pulonia is too busy assisting me to go destroy some rose bushes.”
“They haven’t been destroyed.”
Sandrone blinked, feeling her core take a hard shift, “what! Then why are we even having this discussion?"
“I would like to echo that sentiment.” Arlecchino spoke up for the first time, her legs crossed as she took a long sip of her tea. “We’ve agreed that these meetings were not to settle personal grievances but to discuss future collaborations and keep ourselves up to date. This betrays that principle I believe.”
“Hmph.” Rosalyne crossed her arms, “well, I just can’t stay silent about such an insult.”
“What happened to them exactly?" That was Columbina speaking, the Moon Maiden was floating past Arlecchino, tossing a pastry from hand to hand. “I’m curious now.”
“They’ve grown out of control.” Rosalyne said, “I had to take a buzzsaw to most of it, the entire northern courtyard has been buried in vines and roses. One of my officers conducted a full investigation and found said set of heavy footprints leading to where they’d originally grown out of control. Some kind of freak fertilizer was used, I can only assume you’ve finally branched out into biology now that you’ve realized automatons can only take you so far, Sandrone.”
“Ridiculous.” Sandrone shook her head, “I most definitely did not. Whoever is to blame, I—”
She paused, suddenly remembering that Columbina of all people had asked to borrow Pulonia about three days ago. She hadn’t needed her companion for anything so she acquiesced to her request, not really seeing the harm in it. But now…
“Columbina.” Sandrone tried to keep her voice calm, “what did you need Pulonia for three days ago?”
“A delicate disposal.” She answered, clasping her hands in her lap.
Rosalyne let out a huff as Sandrone stood up slowly, “a disposal…of what?”
Columbina giggled a bit, “nothing serious, just a new growth serum that Dottore was testing. He finally had a success so I threw it out for him.”
“And my roses had to be a victim of this, why?” Rosalyne almost cried, her face turning very red.
“I thought they would need it.” Columbina tilted her head, looking a bit like a lost owl. “We’ve had a bit of a cold spell.”
“We always have a cold spell.” Rosalyne dramatically wailed, “We live in the godsforsaken nation of Cryo, it’s never not freezing. I use some very complicated and very delicate magic to keep them at an ideal temperature and you’re telling me you’ve gone and—”
“Alright, alright.” Sandrone clicked her teeth, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, I don’t think she meant any harm by it.”
She definitely meant some amount of mischief though, knowing her. Sandrone could almost picture Columbina muffling giggles as she instructed Pulonia to pour the growth serum all over the rose bushes. The woman had far too much free time on her hands.
“Ruined!” Rosalyne pouted, “and right before the competition…”
“They only let you win because you’re a Harbinger.” Sandrone said dryly, “there’s always next year.”
“You have a heart of ice!” Rosalyne hissed, “and here I thought I was amongst friends.”
Sandrone sighed, trying to meet Arlecchino’s eye and finding that the youngest (and most reasonable) of their group had long since made her escape.
“I will send some of my automatons to survey the damage.” Sandrone declared, “then Pulonia and I will form an action plan to try and rescue your roses from their own success.”
Rosalyne perked up, “truly? I was being a bit overdramatic but—”
“If it's something important to you then I don’t mind.” Sandrone shrugged, “besides, I need some fresh air, I’ve spent the last week trying to make this stupid ruin surveyor droid work and it's been driving me nuts.”
Rosalyne stood up in one movement, brushing her skirts behind her as she marched up to Sandrone and leaned her head in awfully close.
“What are you—” Sandrone cut herself off as Rosalyne pressed a rather moist kiss to her cheek. “Huh?!”
“I do appreciate it, dear Sandrone.” Rosalyne declared, crossing her arms and looking towards Columbina. “And what will you do to make it up to me?”
Columbina tucked her legs into her chest, tilting her head. “What would you like me to do?”
“I want clear moonlight for my trip to Mondstat.”
“I can do that.” Columbina nodded, “can I get a kiss as well?”
“Perhaps when I return,” Rosalyne sniffed, “I’ll see the two of you when I have the gnosis, we shall have a party.”
Sandrone slumped back on the couch when she was gone, tapping her brow a bit as she reorganized the structure of her week to fit in caring for Rosalyne’s precious flowers.
“You have lipstick on your cheek.” Columbina told her, poking the spot with the tip of her finger.
“You’re helping me with the stupid flowers.”
“Sure.” Columbina smiled, “do you want to know what Dottore shouted when he found out his serum was gone and I’d disposed of all of his notes.”
Sandrone snorted, “you’re terrible.”
She’d build a droid specifically designed to take care of a rose garden, keep it running for an eternity with the self-fueling catalytic converter Alain had designed.
Just in case Rosalyne ever felt like coming back for a visit.
3. Capitano — An Indirect Kiss
She let out a curse as her foot slipped, grabbing the edge of the parapet for dear life as the wind buffeted past her. She really should be cursing her stupid pride, it was the one driving force behind her putting herself in such perplexing situations. She had automatons that could fly, she could’ve simply ordered them to go clear the ice from the transmission dish. But the Rooster had crooned at such length about how unacceptable it was that she, a fellow Harbinger, had failed to maintain the comms for the whole of Zapolyarny Palace after Her Majesty had put her in charge of the task. Never mind that the task should really be up to a communications officer and that she had much better things to do with her time.
Still, if he kept complaining it would eventually reach the Tsarista’s ear which meant she’d decided to climb up to the transmission dish herself to see if she could fix it. Most likely, ice and snow had accumulated during the most recent storm and was messing with the signal. It was an easy fix which is why she had a pickaxe and an ice scrapper hanging from her tool belt. The hard part was actually getting up to the tower, there was no path from the inside on account of a lack of windows which meant she’d had to climb up from the other side of the wall and then make her way across the thin roof edge.
“Stupid, stupid.” She repeated as she adjusted her grip on the ledge and started shuffling along. “Should’ve built an automaton to give me a knock on the head when I have dumb ideas.”
Not that such a robot would’ve lasted long, she most likely would’ve dismantled the thing out of frustration eventually. What she really should’ve done was ask Columbina to fly up and fix the dish for her, the Third of the Harbinger was free enough and it would be payback for all those nights she’d spent crashing her bed as of late.
She reached the side of the tower, pressing her face up against it to ‘catch’ her breath as she unlooped the rope around her waist. She tied it off to the small robot she’d brought with her, turning it on and watching as its small fans whirled and it propelled up. The robot—which she’d named Knot—would tie the rope up for her so she could climb.
Or so it was supposed to but it flew up about half-way before the wind kicked up and battered it out into the void.
Sandrone let out a shout, trying to catch the rope as the whole thing flew out of her reach.
“Are you kidding me!” She slammed her fist into the wall, her core fuzzing up a bit as she considered retracing her steps. But no, that would be admitting defeat and there was nothing Sandrone abhorred more.
She pulled the pickaxe from her tool belt, rubbing her hand on the fine grain of its handle before turning her attention to the smooth granite stone. No one ever came up here which meant the subtle damage to the structure would go unnoticed. She sucked in a breath, heaving the pickax back and shattering the wall.
It took some effort before she reached the top, sputtering a bit as she brushed the hair that had escaped from her cap out of her eyes. She rolled her shoulders back, taking a moment to stare at the new dent in her pickax before shrugging and starting her way across the tower to reach the ladder that would take her up to the dish.
She’d expected to be alone, to do some miserable work in even more miserable weather before tucking back indoors for some tea. Instead, a man was sitting up against the ladder, staring out at the pale fields.
Well, to call him a man would be somewhat inaccurate, Sandrone almost recoiled when she caught a glimpse of his ruined face. It wasn’t the result of ordinary injury, a puckered scar or raised flesh, no, it was the result of rot. The skin at the brow had flecked away, revealing smooth white bone, there was a cavernous hole at the check, ruined flesh torn back to reveal teeth. The nose was gone, as was most of the lip. It was only when she glimpsed at the familiar helmet resting at his side that she recognized the Captain.
Her breath caught and she wondered for a moment if she’d just made a mistake that would cost her her life.
But Capitano’s mouth twisted into something like a smile, “I’ve surprised you, I apologize, I didn’t expect to see anyone else up here.”
She shifted back on her feet, the instinct to run still strong as she stammered out, “our communications with our embassies have been bad because of the dish, I’m just here to clear ice.”
“The Rooster’s request.”
“Yes.” She nodded, shifting the pickax down, “I’ll be quick.”
He was holding an opened flask in his hand, shifting aside to free up the path to the ladder. He sliped the mask back on as she clambered up it, lifting herself to the side of the dish and peering down at the ice accumulating in the center of it. She balanced precariously, shoving one foot to the side as she raised her hand and got to work breaking the ice.
“Watch out!” She shouted down as she lifted each block of ice and tossed it over the side. She heard the sound of it breaking against the wall as the wind shattered each piece in turn, just like poor Knot’s whose scraps she’d have to find later.
“Surely there is a better way?” He asked as she wandered back down, “We live in Snezhnaya, the cold is usually at the forefront of all our thoughts.”
“I built this in a bit of a rush.” She admitted, wincing as she remembered who she was speaking to. It was Alain’s fault for never bothering to teach her proper manners. “Sorry, sir, I will look into a way to keep it clear of ice…it’s never been this bad before.”
“The Rooster really should be the one in charge of maintaining it.” Capitano said, “I believe you have better things to do.”
She huffed with pride, “Indeed, I have been working on some very interesting energy converters using Ruin-tiller cores, I believe I’ll be able to bring an increase in efficiency to our factories soon.”
“Ruin Tillers?”
“Khaenri'anh tech is best when it comes to energy conversion.” Sandrone drummed on, her mind lost in the music of machinery as she forgot who she was speaking to. “It’s a wonder all that we lost when it fell, I so wish Her Majesty would give a go ahead for us to launch an expedition there. The things we would find…”
“Indeed.” Capitano’s shoulders feel momentarily, “but the dead ought to be left to their rest.”
She winced, “right…sorry, I sometimes let my excitement get in the way of my…consideration.”
He raised his flask, sitting back down as he said, “have a drink with me, Sandrone.”
She tugged her long jacket down, covering the bits of her dress that poked out as she settled next to him. He handed her the flask, and she only hesitated a moment before downing a gulp. It burned, her taste receptors buzzing uncomfortable as she let out a weak cough. Alcohol did nothing for her so apart from the occasional Fontainian wine for nostalgia’s sake, she tended to avoid it.
“Not a pleasant taste.” Capitano confirmed, “but it gets you drunk fast so it used to get passed around rather liberally. It’s made with the inteyvat flower, there were plenty of them in our fields. This is the last of it I have.”
She’d have thought such a delicate bloom would have a better taste, “right.”
“I’m surprised you can taste it.”
“I could say the same to you.” She shot back, “My creator wanted me to enjoy the finer delicacies in life.”
“And it is of benefit to you?”
“I can turn it into energy.” Sandrone confirmed, “and there’s no waste so it's convenient.”
He nodded, taking another sip before passing it back to her, she turned her taste receptors off this time, and felt nothing.
“I have to apologize for giving you a glimpse of my face.” Capitano declared as she handed back the flask. “I know it is not pleasant to behold, Pierro is the one who made me start wearing the mask, right around when my nose rotted off.”
“It’s not so bad.” Sandrone said, almost honestly. Humans all looked the same to her, soft and pudgy, at least you could see some of the structure behind him now. “You have good bone structure, we can tell you were quite handsome in your prime.”
“Now you sound like Dottore.”
“Perish the thought. I’m nothing like that unappreciative fool.”
That made him laugh, something that sounded like a deep rumble.
“Since we’re on the subject,” she asked because she was curious, the very reason why she always got into trouble. “With your skin in such a state, do you still feel anything? The cold or otherwise.”
He slipped his mask off again, and this time Sandrone focused on his eyes which were still bright despite the years on him.
“It takes a bit more than a light brush.” He admitted, “But the cold here has a way of getting into your bones. You must not feel most of it.”
“Not true.” Sandrone said, “like I said, my creator wanted me human-like, I feel everything you do, it just doesn’t bother me much.”
She snatched the flask from his hand once more, wishing Alain had let her feel what it was that drew humans to alcohol like moths to a fire as she drank more of the bitter liquid. He stole it back, and Sandrone’s eyes lingered on the way his ruined lips touched the side she’d just drank from.
She’d known Capitano for years but it had always been from far away, seeing him this close felt almost wrong.
“This storm will make the roads a nightmare,” Capitano declared, “I will have to delay my departure to Natlan again.”
“Seems you are always delaying it.”
“Hah, that’s fair.” He laughed again, his eyes brightening. “You have a way of striking at the heart of the matter, Sandrone.”
“I just don’t believe in shying away from things.” She said, “either face it or don’t.”
“I will keep your words in mind.” Capitano said as he stood, “Thank you for indulging me, I know you hate wasting your time.”
She didn’t tell him that she hardly saw it as a waste to sit with him, too embarrassing to admit, really. She followed him down, watching as he vanished amongst the soldiers cutting their way through the ice piling in the courtyards.
She made her way to her own quarters, shrugging off her heavy cloak as she found Columbina curled up inside her bed. Sandrone allowed herself a moment of indulgence as she brushed a cold finger against the back of the moon goddess’ neck and watched as she shivered a bit. Why had Alain made it so she could feel human touch? Perhaps it had been some half-bidden attempt to bring her closer to them.
Weeks later, Capitano sent her a request to pull back on her operations in Natlan in the name of building friendlier relations with the nation. She acquiesced without a word of complaint.
And then, weeks later still, when a group of battered soldiers returned with only a scrap of his cloak, she’d gone to their spot on the tower and poured a flask of bitter alcohol into the wind.