Chapter Text
"This would be beautiful on you, Clorinde." Emilie holds up a cut of a Naku Weed to the woman's bare wrist, bringing both to her nose so that she can smell the mixture of Clorinde's natural scent and the fresh, light aroma of the flower. "It compliments you very well," she says and quickly heads over to her cast-iron stove where a tea kettle simmers slowly. A hunk of charcoal crackles a bit at the bottom, before releasing a plethora of steam when Emilie pours water over it. Clorinde rolls her gloves back up to her elbows and lets the sleeves of her dress fall back into place around her wrists. "I do appreciate this, Emilie... My outing with Wriothesley is very important to me. It's our first since he arrived back from Mondstadt."
Clorinde uses Emilie's mirror to adjust her crooked necklace, a far-away look in her eyes. Emilie gives her an understanding smile. As she waits for the tea to finish steeping, she handles the Naku Weed carefully and sews it into a small piece of silk ribbon.
"If Monsieur Wriothesley could, he would spend every waking second by your side. Alas, being administrator for the Fortress of Meropide is a taxing job... His Highness enjoys keeping him busy, I suppose."
Clorinde huffs out a laugh, taking a seat on Emilie's plush, expensive sofa. When the tea finishes, Emilie acquires two porcelain teacups and pours the slightly discolored water into both. She tops with flower petals, giving the tea just the right fragrance to be even more enticing. Emilie sits next to Clorinde, handing her a cup. They chat about mundane things as they sip leisurely—idle conversation about politics, the perfect recipe for a meal, what jewels would go with what attire for her date—before Clorinde finally brings up the elephant in the room. Another thing that has been bothering her, pestering her mind endlessly since she heard the news. "Emilie... You are leaving Fontaine, correct..?"
Emilie's hand halts midway to her lips, pink eyes staring at Clorinde from behind her glasses. With a small sigh, she returns the teacup to the small plate in her other hand. "Yes. I was planning to tell you after your date. I didn't want to burden you with sad news before then."
“Where are you going?”
“Inazuma.”
"The Naku Weed…” Clorinde glances over at the potted Naku Weed on the coffee table. Emilie nods, following her gaze with her own, “Yes. I was gifted it, along with a couple of other Inazuman specialties. I’ve never seen plants like them before, and their scents… It is like they were touched by lightning, sending jolts of bliss through your veins with each breath.” Her voice was light and tremulous from excitement, hands shaking slightly. Clorinde—despite her initial aversion to her friend leaving—enjoys seeing Emilie so excited about something. She couldn’t help but smile. The blonde continues,
"I want to open a perfume shop there! Start a wonderful new line of Inazuman scents, and perhaps even share our own scents with the natives… It would also be a chance to increase our nations relationships. I have discussed it with His Highness, Neuvilette, and he saw it as a golden opportunity. He even discussed it and received permission from the Shogun; she sent the flowers as a peaceful offering. And even though I am not a High Noble like Lady Furina or Lady Navia, I am the only one willing to make the long and… dangerous,” she whispers this word, “journey across the sea.”
Clorinde sighs, pursing her lips. For one, she obviously worries for Emilie’s safety. But on the other hand, she admires the woman’s tenacity and could never step in the way of her dreams. So, Clorinde discards one of her gloves so that she can reach out and enclose one of Emilie’s hands. Her thumb rubs soothing circles on the blonde’s wrist. “I will, of course, send letters and updates! Though… they may take more than a week to arrive,” Emilie says, dejected.
”When will you leave?”
”Tomorrow…”
Scaramouche is only mildly impressed his eyes haven’t fallen out of his head from the number of times he’s rolled them in the past 10 minutes.
He’s resting his cheek against the palm of his hand as his mother’s advisor drones on and on about another thing he doesn’t care about. He only begins to pay attention at the end of the man’s rant when the Shogun raises her hand, “—this Fontaine alliance…” His words die on his tongue quite quickly.
“Kamisato, you are a very important man, in a very important clan, in a very important position. However, you and I both know this advisor ordeal is just for show to appease the emperor.” The Shogun crosses her legs. Scaramouche notices the way Kamisato Ayato’s lips twitch as he holds back a disapproving frown. “I will consider taking this as genuine advisement instead of disrespect towards my decisions. Now leave.” Kamisato turns on his heel and practically storms out, the heels of his shoes clacking against the wooden flooring of the Shogunate Manor.
Scaramouche was about to stand and leave—because he certainly has better to do than to sit in awkward silence—but his mother stops him. "Kunikuzushi." His body tenses at the use of his actual name, hands clenching into tight fists. The stinging pain in his palms from his nails helped to ground him and not give a snarky comment that'd certainly earn him 10 lashes.
"We have a guest coming from Fontaine. She will be staying near the emperor for a majority of her time here. But we will need to greet ourselves at some point. Do not ruin this for us, Kunikuzushi."
Fontaine? No wonder Kamisato was reluctant about the Shogun's choice. Inazuma and Liyue have an alliance that has lasted hundreds of years. And Fontaine and Liyue have a feud that has lasted decades. When the leaders of Teyvat convene together once every year, the room is always extremely tense, and the emperors of the respective nations stay far away from each other. Or... at least Liyue's does. His mother believes the man is a coward, too frightened to face King Neuvilette directly. "Fine," Scaramouche agrees dismissively. He'll find some way out of it. He always does.
With that, the Shogun lets him leave without another word. The fresh air outside is practically a godsend compared to the stuffiness inflicting the manor. As he strolls down the streets of Inazuma, people bow their heads respectfully before scurrying off onto the dirt to get out of his way. Scaramouche enjoys this. The feeling of power, respect, people fearful because of what you've done—he's earned it. Despite what his mother may say. He stops in front of the training grounds where many military men come to enhance their skills in sword-fighting and bow usage. His eyes roam over the archers, two fingers pulling back the notch of the bow, muscles in the forearm shaking ever so slightly from the exertion. Shooting an arrow wasn't easy, and anyone who tells you otherwise has definitely never held such a weapon before. Scaramouche himself much prefers the archer's path compared to the swordman's. They control the battlefield, and he likes being in control.
He spots Kujou Sara, one of the best bowwomen in Inazuma, and his mother's most trusted soldier. No matter what the Shogun has done, she's stayed by her side for many years. She gives him a smile when she sees him, the corners of her eyes wrinkling from age. "Daimyōsho Scaramouche, are you here for more training exercises?" Kujou would be one of the only people that Scaramouche just barely respects; she's the one who taught him how to use a bow. With an affirmative nod, he swoops up one of the large longbows and marches confidently over to the range with Kujou following behind.
The next day rolls around in a blur. Clorinde and Wriothesley had a splendid date, according to her friend. Emilie had packed up her things. All of her dresses, shoes, empty perfume bottles, and anything she would need to create new scents in a new land. Large men carry crates of her belongings aboard the ship. It was tall and grand; all thick wood and titanium—a new, experimental, and very expensive metal—with the Fontaine blue and white flag whipping in the wind overhead. The ocean laps calmly at the dock, the smell of salt and sea life invading the blonde's lungs. She coughs into her fist, tears springing to her eyes from the harshness of it all. Handling flowers and plants daily has improved her sense of smell, making it better than most others.
It would take a few days across the waters to reach the green, lush lands of Sumeru. They will take a day's rest there, then travel to the opposite side of the nation by carriages. There, they will board another Fontaine ship that was sailed there weeks ago. It took much longer for it to reach Sumeru, as it had to travel around Natlan to do so. If they're lucky, the rest of the journey to Inazuma would take a week tops. Unlucky, then a couple of weeks. Very unlucky and they won't make it... But Emilie tries to stay more positive around the prospect of possible death.
Both Clorinde and her were teary eyed as they said their goodbyes. Wriothesley rubs his wife’s back and gives Emilie a farewell nod. Just as the blonde was about to walk up the wooden plank, she hears a scuffle of footsteps. She turns and sees that the people gathered had parted out of the way for King Neuvilette—all regal and composed with a sort of walk that commands attention. He stops in front of the woman, letting his hands rest on his cane as he respectfully smiles down on her. Emilie’s breath was taken away; he was a beautiful man and she has admired him for most of her life. She curtsies, standing just a bit straighter.
“Lady Emilie, I have come to wish you safe travels. I am pleased that you can continue your work in a new nation and environment, but do remember,” Neuvilette’s voice edges just between authoritative and amiable, “that you will technically be a Diplomat. Be wise and do not let people control or manipulate you. And give Fontaine a good name—we can use the ally.”
”Of course, Your Highness. I will not disappoint you.”
And with that, Emilie boards the ship, waving goodbye to all of her friends and the king as the sails are hoisted, catching the cool wind.
A few hours later…
Emilie stares out into the large expanse of the blue ocean. Fontaine was barely still in view on the horizon, but fortunately the sky is clear with no sign of an incoming storm. The ship was so alive with movement and chatter. It made the blonde slightly uncomfortable, but she could stay professional and friendly whenever someone decides to speak with her.
The wind suddenly spikes for a brief moment. And a strange scent—not disgusting, but mysterious, compelling, and entirely new to her—hits her nose like a slap. She swivels around on her foot, wanting to search for the culprit, but is met with bright yellow eyes and a tilted, pale face five inches away from her own.
She jumps slightly, a quiet noise halfway between a yelp and a startled choke hopping from her throat. The stranger chuckles deeply, standing to his full height from where he was bowed to meet Emilie's gaze. He was surely almost twice her height if she wasn't wearing heels. "You frightened me," Emilie says.
"Haha, I seem to have that effect on people... Allow me to condone you with my sincerest apologies. I was just curious of the lovely woman by herself. You may call me Flins, my lady." Flins holds out a gloved hand, and when Emilie hesitantly takes it, he bends down once more to place a soft kiss atop her own covered knuckles. At least he was a gentleman, despite scaring her initially. "And you may call me Emilie. Are you headed to Inazuma as well?"
"Ah, unfortunately not. I will be taking my leave once we reach Sumeru," he says. Emilie notices how silky smooth his voice is. How steadily disarming it is, intended to get you to trust him whether he deserves it or not. Combined with his aroma and ethereal appearance he was quite an interesting man to Emilie. They ended up chatting with each other, and both appreciate the distraction from the mediocre seafaring. Emilie didn't realize how dark it had gotten until Flins procures an oil lamp and ignites it. He keeps it held up with a long index finger wrapped around the small handle and his thumb pressed against the base. It lights up his face, casting eery shadows across his sharp features. Beneath the moonlight where the fire's glow didn't reach, Emilie could have sworn his eyes glow a bit.
"Do you believe in ghosts, Lady Emilie?" The question comes to a bit of a shock for her. Death is such a... morbid, yet fascinating conversation. There have been many times where Emilie has wondered what comes after one's passing. Do good people go to Celestia? Are the evil cursed to spend eternity in the Abyss? When they die, are they stuck in the spiritual plane, sent to wander the world aimlessly? It sounds lonely. But on the discussion of ghosts, she isn't too sure... "The existence of ghosts is... dubious, at worst. But it is a nice thought that one could watch over their loved ones after they leave," Emilie says, taking a step closer to the light of Flins' lantern. "What about you?"
"I like to consider myself a clairvoyant," Emilie gives him a doubtful crook of her brow, which just makes Flins snicker. "I don't except you to believe me—most do not. Whether or not I can see apparitions, or if I am just fervently—to put it nicely—eccentric, I do wish that people wouldn't be so untoward the possibility. Or frightened by them as you were of me." Flins' teasing smile doesn't quell Emilie's uncertainty.
"They are merely talking shadows, chattering away endlessly about their past affairs. Most do not have any ill-will towards people whose hearts are still beating."
"Most?"
"Where I am from, people call the malicious spirits 'The Wild Hunt.' The souls of the damned. Unlike regular ghosts who are here because of unfinished business, The Wild Hunt are twisted spirits who crawl their way out of the Abyss." With his free hand, the man makes a clawing gesture in the air. "Mercifully, they are few and usually only come out at the dead of night when people are under great stress; they are common during times of war." Flins' oil lamp flickers for a brief moment as he stares at the woman unsettlingly. His hand comes up to touch her shoulder, dusting off what Emilie only assumes is dirt or a bug. Then, Flins gives her a winsome smile and bows, arm holding the lantern raised out to the side and his other brought up to his chest, left hand over heart.
"Alas, as much as I enjoy talking with you, Lady Emilie, I need to retire for the night. I suggest you do the same. It gets quite... chilling on the sea at dark," Flins whispers conspiratorially, before turning on his heel and walking to the trapdoor that leads below-deck. Without the comforting presence of a new friend, Emilie began to feel cold and alone. She takes a minute to just lean against the wall of the main deck, peering over the edge to stare back at her rippling reflection amidst the calm waves. Emilie adjusts her glasses before heading fully inside the ship herself.
Just as Emilie suspected, it took three and a half days to arrive in Sumeru. Taking the hand of her new companion, she steps down the plank with his help. Every time she visits this nation, there is always such a nice breeze greeting her; it ruffles her dress and short hair, but not enough to be annoying or in the way. It was full of vibrant greenery and plants of all colors, shapes, and sizes. Sumeru is her second favorite country in Teyvat, right after Fontaine, of course. Flins stays by her side as they walk down the dirt paths with the rest of the ship crew and passengers. They would spend one more day together before they went their separate ways. Emilie has asked the man what his plans were in Sumeru, but he had deflected the question with a too-charming smile and a completely different conversation topic. Despite how curious she was, she would never disrespect someone's privacy, as she expects people to be the same with hers.
When they reach the public house, Emilie happily drinks in the sight. Sumeru buildings were unique in the way they were inspired by the wonders of nature. Most buildings were made of stone, green roofs sloped to form the likeness of a tree, and if you look at the main city from afar you would see that it was built around and inside a grand mountain with a massive tree. It was very different from the industrial aesthetic that Fontaine, Mondstadt, or Snezhnaya had taken up—'twas a breath of fresh air!
"Lady Emilie, I see that you enjoy Sumeru architect," Flins said, having interrupted her spell of admiration. She gives him a curt nod, heels clicking on the wooden stairs she ascends. He follows right behind her.
After renting a couple rooms, the two leave the inn as the sun slowly sets on the horizon. Since she is in Sumeru, Emilie wants to visit the botanist, Tighnari. And… Flins has nothing better to do than to join her, she guesses. She doesn’t mind the company, so she allows him to tag along. When Tighnari’s home comes into view, she immediately spots the familiar head of straight green hair. He was tending to his garden behind the modest home. “Monsieur Tighnari,” Emilie raises her voice to grab his attention.
When he turns and sees her, he sets his watering can and shears down in favor of hurrying over to her. “Miss Emilie, I didn’t expect you!” Tighnari pulls off his leather gardening gloves, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “I would shake your hand, but…”
”It isn’t a problem, Tighnari,” she says. “This is Flins, I met him on the journey here.”
Flins nods his head respectfully towards the shorter man. Tighnari gives him a friendly smile, then ushers the two inside his home where he washes his hands and fixes them a plate of vegetables and cheeses. He takes a seat across from them, asking, “What brings you here?”
“I, unfortunately, will not be staying long. I’m on my way to Inazuma.”
”Inazuma?? That’s… quite the dangerous voyage. It isn’t somewhere many people go,” Tighnari warns, popping a piece of squared goat cheese into his mouth.
”I am aware. I’m not necessarily going for fun. It is business and for the good of Fontaine.”
”Ah, then I understand. You must do what’s best for your nation, right?”
She nods with a smile, chewing happily on a carrot slice. “And what of you, sir?” Tighnari turns his attention on Flins who hasn’t touched the snacks.
”Oh, I am just visiting a friend,” he gives his vague answer and finally takes a cheese off of the small plate, fiddling with it absentmindedly between two fingers. Tighnari spares Emilie a questioning look, but she just shrugs her shoulders.
”I see… Emilie, um, you want a new plant, I assume?”
”Yes, yes. I hope it isn’t a bother… I would love to bring a Sumeru flower with me to Inazuma. One that can handle the different climate.” Emilie leans forward, clasping her hands together. Her eyes twinkle with enthusiasm. Tighnari wipes his hands off with a rag, then stands.
”I will be back!”
Now, it is just Emilie and Flins alone. The blonde picks at her sleeve awkwardly, eyes flicking over to Flins every now and then. One of those times, he is looking back.
”I’m not meeting a friend,” he says, quietly. “I cannot say much, but I came here on very important business that requires the utmost discretion.” He brings his finger to his lips in a playful ‘shh’ motion.
Emilie’s brows furrow, confused, and she asks, “Then why tell me you lied in the first place?”
Flins leans back into the couch, crossing his legs. “Hmmm… I suppose I trust you. And, as my new friend, I feel very guilty lying to you. Camaraderie is very important, isn’t it?”
“It is… Thank you for being honest with me?” Flins bows his head and smiles. “If we are opening up… I must admit that I’m nervous to go to Inazuma. It has been gnawing at me the past few days that I barely know what I will do when I get there. I know what I want, but how to achieve it, I’m unsure of. Do you have any advice for me?”
The man taps his foot thoughtfully, eyeing Emilie.
”Do what you truly need for yourself. That will be the easiest to accomplish. Then, everything else will fall into place.”
The carriage ride was long and bumpy. It makes Emilie very much miss the smoothness of Fontaine roads. She kept the potted plant—a beautiful Kalpalata Lotus—tightly close to her chest so it isn’t disrupted. Flins sits across from her, having decided to join her on the ride as well, even though he didn’t need to and will have to make the journey right back to the city afterwards.
When the carriage comes to a rolling stop and the telltale sounds and smell of the ocean reaches Emilie, she was more than happy to climb out of the small space. Her stomach squirms as she spots a towering ship once more; it hit much harder this time, what with it being the one thing that will take her to Inazuma. Flins’ hand gently takes her elbow, fingers wrapping around the crook of her arm. She lets out a sigh, looking up at the man.
Flins says, “Relax. You will be safe. Fontaine’s ships are the best in the world, and will certainly be able to withstand Inazuma’s waters.”
A corner of Emilie’s lips quirks up in a half smile. “Thank you, Flins…”
The bell on the ship rings, signaling that it’s about to sail off. Flins leads her up the wooden board, helping her step down onto the top deck. He leans down, once more bringing her hand up to his lips; he doesn’t break eye contact.
”Farewell, ma dame.”
Emilie spent half of the trip stuck in the sub-deck, something about being “precious cargo.” She doubts the crew meant for her to hear that, but it’s difficult for a group of drunk men to notice a lurking lady. She wasn’t offended, she was just desperate for some fresh air. A woman can only handle so much fish soup stench. Thankfully, she was able to convince someone to escort her up to the top deck. The skies have been clear for a week, waters calm and low. Now, she was sat on a nailed down bench, listening as a couple of men play a lyre and a cornemuse. Someone soon joins in to sing a sea shanty.
Her eyes were closed and she was swaying back and forth. But the peace was broken when a shout came from the front of the ship. Emilie stands up, following the crowd of people as they hasten over to the screaming voice. Her heart freezes in her chest. Through the crowd, she sees it…
”STORM AHEAD!”