Archive of Our Own

Navia was many things—a Caspar, heiress to Spina di Rosula, daughter of the famed politician Callas, and the namesake of an aquabus line. 

But among all of those things, she prided herself on only one title: the best florist in all of Fontaine. 

The flowers from her youth—those her gentle hands cared for in their estate's gardens—had joined her outside of her mansion and inside a flower shop built with her determination, hard-earned money, and ambitions. Navia was a prodigy, they said, with the way her father's guests admired the flower decorations she made in their mansion's dining hall and corridors. 

And as quickly as flowers bloomed, young Navia bloomed as the most beautiful woman adored by the Court—as bright and delicate as she was young and beautiful—yet keeping the art of flower arrangements alive.

While she could find hobbies more suitable for a noble lady like herself, Navia preferred to tend to flowers inside her beloved shop, living the life she wanted. Her customers knew of her status, yet they came for the beautiful flower arrangements she made and the brightest sun that kept these flowers alive—the owner herself. It was their support and admiration the reason Navia stayed afloat in this business.

Her flowers speak on behalf of her customers, and her passion and skills in the art of flowers helped people unleash their feelings and desires. Flowers open doors to new possibilities, emotions, and romances; like blossoming flowers blooming with care, hearts do grow beautifully with the right person and the right flower.

And she herself had been wanting to put her skills to the test with her best flower arrangement for the mysterious owner of that tattoo shop across hers.

It was a shop, yes. But shops should be colorful, right? It should have advertisements or neon signs to attract customers. Yet this tattoo shop has none of those; it didn't even look like a shop from the outside! Its dark paint and closed blinds never gave anyone a peek, and it stood out among the rest of the vibrant shops on this street with its dullness.

But it was a tattoo shop, and it had been there long before she established her own shop. Navia was also certain there was someone inside; aside from the people coming inside and leaving with fresh marks on their skins, faint lights often peeked through the closed blinds of the shop's second floor, and the shadow of a figure walking past the window would send shivers down Navia's spine.

She was curious, of course! She had been here for half a year already, yet she had yet to see the owner of this eerie shop just across hers. Her curiosity even got the better of her as her feet dragged her outside her shop, a bouquet of one of the best flower arrangements on her arms as she attempted to cross the street...

...only to return to the shop halfway through to entertain a newly arrived customer. 

Her customer, with his tall stature and muscular build hidden underneath his neatly pressed branded black suit, looked too out of place inside this colorful room of flowers, yet his lazy gaze scanned the whole shop, determined to find whatever he was looking for. 

Navia often caters to customers like these—all neat and clean with their outfits and expensive perfumes—and those people usually buy her flowers for dates with their partners. This man might be one of them, and Navia already prepared a mental list of flowers to pick and arrange. 

"A bouquet for graduation, please." At last, the man requested, his gaze straight towards hers. "Arrange it however you like, but make sure it has more blue."

Acting all tough and intimidating, yet he raked his hands through his spiky hair, his gaze shifting to the floor to avoid her scrutiny.

"It's... it's for my daughter."

Immediately, Navia went to work, completely scraping the red and pink flower bouquet she had been thinking about since he entered. She made sure he'd never see her face, or he'd catch the wide grin on her lips. Ah, how adorable for a man this intimidating to gift his daughter some flowers! It reminded Navia of her own father—the reason why her preference in partners had soared to an all-time high.

Blue and white sheets gently wrapped around the various blue flowers, locking them in place with a white ribbon. The glint in his eyes told her he was satisfied with the bouquet.

The bouquet had been paid for, and the customer cradled it in his arms with the same care Navia had while making it. 

His dreamy gaze—which was probably thinking about his beloved daughter—shifted to her with curiosity as he caught her admiring his satisfaction with the bouquet. "By the way, I saw you trying to approach the shop across the street before I left my car."

Oh? A potential person who knows something about that shop! Navia wouldn't be surprised—the man has tattoos around his wrists creeping up to his upper arm. He must've been one of the tattoo shop's customers once.

"Oh! Right, I was..." Navia nodded, a smile creeping up her face. Finally, some information about the mysterious shop! "It's been intriguing me ever since I moved here. Not that it had done something personal to me, but I'm still yet to see who owns that shop despite me being here for six months already!"

"I see. It is a tattoo shop, and these tats in my arms came from that. You should meet the owner; she's excellent in her craft."

Wait. 

She?

"Try knocking. She wouldn't mind a visitor, unless she's in the middle of work. That kind of work is meticulous; no one can afford any distractions."

The confused expression on her face was his cue to leave, turning around towards the door to vacate the shop. Navia walked with him, escorting him out, yet her gaze shot towards the shop she tried to approach earlier. Maybe after he'd leave, she'd try another attempt.

Navia beamed at him, "Thank you, Mister! I hope your daughter will love that bouquet!"

"She'd surely love it, Ms. Navia." He nodded, "And it's Mr. Wriothesley, Miss."

Wriothesley could be lying. Wriothesley could be telling the truth. Either way, Navia picked up her bouquet again and crossed the street towards that shop, just as she had planned before Wriothesley came.

Trusting a stranger was a bad idea, but the moment Wriothesley told her who the bouquet he purchased was for, Navia had deemed him harmless. The tattoo shop's customers also came out unscathed, aside from wounds on their skin after a usual tattoo session. 

There's nothing wrong in that shop and its owner, surely.

Navia breathed, filling her lungs with air in their full capacity, before letting it out in a heavy sigh. She might come to regret this decision and never leave this place again, but she would take all the risks just for a new potential friend. 

Well then, here she goes.

The sudden shift in lighting forced her to pause, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Only when her vision gradually cleared did she see the room that surrounded her.

Its most notable feature was its color scheme—dark! Dark everywhere! Only the dim lights from the wall sconces lit the room as the sunlight failed to permeate the windows from the closed curtains. Everything in this room was a darker shade, and Navia felt dread all over her body as her dress and her hair were the only bright colors in this place!

Oddly enough, this room reminded her of her father's man-cave back at her estate, where he and his gentlemen friends shared alcohol parties and manly sports.

This room was empty, not a single soul in sight aside from her. Navia already felt guilty for barging in unannounced, but there was no one here she could apologize to for her rudeness. 

Only when her gaze shot towards the couch in the far right did she find blazing purple staring straight at her—still, silent, visibly uninterested in the person who came in unannounced. The figure slouched on the couch blended well with the dark that Navia failed to notice their presence.

Even the figure donned black—a contrast to the brown bottle of half-empty whiskey on the table where she rested her legs. The faint lights on the walls reflected on the silver piercings on her ear, and the cropped top shirt she wore exposed her skin, making Navia's breath hitch and her cheeks burn.

The woman never even blinked once as she kept her gaze straight towards the intruder. Navia should've looked away, yet that gaze—that damned gaze—had frozen her in place. Why shouldn't it? The owner of the shop caught her barging in unannounced!

"I—I—I... I—I a—apologize for n—not knocking!" Forcing her usual cheerful self behind her obvious stuttering was a bad idea, and the tilt on the shop owner's head showed that she caught the nervousness in her expressions. "My n—name is Navia! Navia Caspar! From the... the shop—err, f—flower shop! Uh... across the street. A pleasure to uh... meet you?"

Was it really a pleasure to meet her? All she felt as she stood here was fear, and not a single ounce of positive emotion in her whole body.

The other woman's gaze never left her, even as her head tilted backwards for a sip of the whiskey glass in her hand. It felt like talking to a ghost, and the silence suffocated and scared Navia, who never knew what she was thinking at that moment. 

Yet she continued, searching for a chance to drop the flowers and run like crazy. "I apologize for not knocking, but I have been wanting to visit your shop and acquaint myself with the owner. Here, I brought some fresh flowers from my shop!" Her outstretched arms showed the bouquet in her hands—a mixture of pink and white flowers, hoping that the colors would brighten up the heavy atmosphere and the gloom of this dark room. 

But even with the warmest smile and the friendliest tone she could muster, Navia was talking to no one. The gaze held her down so much she felt like being peeled to the bone. Had she come in at the bad time? Should she say her goodbyes now? Should she run away and never look back?

"Clorinde"

"H—huh?"

Even her voice was cold, yet Navia felt the warmth in her words. 

"The name's Clorinde," she uttered, pouring whiskey on her glass as her gaze was fixed on the poor florist.

"Oh! R—right! Nice to m—meet you, Clorinde!" 

"Want a tattoo?"

"N—no! I just... uh... want to get acquainted with you! Please do not take offense!"

"No offense taken, Lady Navia."

Why did the room feel so hot all of a sudden?

And with that, the heavy weight of silence coated them yet again, and Navia wanted nothing but to sink into the depths of the earth. Not to mention Clorinde's gaze, never leaving her figure since she entered the room, even until this very moment of awkward silence that engulfed the two strangers. 

The bouquet had found the closest table, and Navia shifted, her deliberate steps walking backwards to the door. "I—I shall take my leave now! Again, I apologize for intruding on your personal space—"

From resting on the table, Clorinde's feet touched the floor, launching herself up the couch. "I'll walk you back, Lady Navia."

"N—no need!" The shriek she let out stopped Clorinde from advancing. "My... shop's... a—across the street, yeah! Please don't bother yourself, Ms. Clorinde!"

With a nod of understanding from Clorinde, Navia saw the light of day again as she scurried away from the place.

If Cupid was real, Navia would hire him on the spot.

"A bouquet of roses, please."

It shouldn't have ended like this. That interaction was nowhere near romantic, and Clorinde had scared Navia shitless!

So why was Navia seeking that violet gaze piercing through her soul, scanning over her with her lips pursed in a thin line? That gaze was nowhere sweet, or charming, or romantic—it was sharp and fierce and deadly, and Navia flinched at that stare a lot of times in the span of the whole interaction. 

"Lady Navia?"

But Navia felt no threat in those fierce stares and the gentlemanly offer for a walk out of the shop. Mere memories of that interaction had Navia feel giddy.

Oh, god. Had she gone insane? Navia likes sunshine and brightness and shiny things and anything warm, but Clorinde was nowhere near warm! So why does Navia feel drawn to her regardless?

If Cupid was real, Navia would hire him on the spot.

"Help me, Mr. Cupid. Shoot an arrow through her heart so she would know of my feelings."

"Lady Navia?"

"A—ah?! Mr. Wriothesley!"

His call and knock on the counter's wooden table snapped Navia out of her reverie. While his lips had contorted into a frown of confusion, his expression showed no judgement with the way Navia ignored his call for the last three minutes. 

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"I was asked by a friend to fetch the flowers she ordered. Her name's Chevreuse."

Oh! It's the Sakura Bloom order! Conveniently, it was the last Sakura Bloom in her inventory.

Excusing herself, Navia disappeared into the storage room to get the order. Strangely enough, it was this Chevreuse who always ordered her Inazuman flowers, so her name had been in Navia's mind as a peculiar customer. It was a surprise that Mr. Wriothesley knew her!

Should she tell Wriothesley what happened yesterday? He encouraged her to go for it, and it would be fair if she told him how it went. 

As she reemerged from the storage room with the flowers, her lips prepared to tell the story, Wriothesley had beaten her into speaking first. 

"How did it go?"

"I think I am in love."

"What?"

"I mean, I..."

But no words left her mouth to defend herself, and her reply had brought a wide grin from her customer. 

She did not mean to utter those words at all! Was that even counted as love, when their interaction did not even reach a full 10 minutes? Perhaps it was infatuation, or just a mere crush that would eventually die down any time soon.

But Clorinde was just so damned handsome, and those fierce gazes just sent heat down Navia's whole body at that moment. 

Strange. Navia had met different people her whole life—noble ladies like her, rich businessmen, and even the ordinary people of Fontaine!—yet Clorinde stuck in her mind, refusing to leave her the hell alone. For the first time in her life, a stranger shook Navia's world, and all she wanted to know was why.

Why Clorinde, out of all the people she had met?

"... I'd hire Cupid if he was real, so he could help me make her notice me."

Wriothesley laughed, tears in his eyes. Navia didn't know if it was genuine or he's calling her crazy. 

"Please, Mister! Don't be like that!" A pout left her lips, and Navia fought the urge to throw the flower at him. She wouldn't, of course! Those were her dearest flowers! "I know it's weird to say that, but... but that's what I felt!"

"Hmm... I see." His laugh had died down into a mere smile. "What do you want to do about it?"

"I... I don't know..."

In all honesty, her feelings confuse her. She should not have such feelings for someone she just met! They only met one time; that wasn't enough for her to develop such peculiar feelings, right?

"Why not take another chance of talking to her again? She probably wouldn't mind. She was a kind host, and we shared a few stories during tattoo sessions."

Talk to her again? Thinking about their interaction, Clorinde was never hostile towards her—even offering her a walk back!—so there was no reason for Navia to reject another conversation with her. Maybe this time, she'd do it formally—knock on her door, offer her lunch or dinner, and finally share a proper conversation!

Maybe there was something more to Clorinde than the person cloaked in darkness that scared Navia shitless yesterday. 

The transaction was done, and Wriothesley cradled the flowers in his arms.

"I'll see what I can do, Mr. Wriothesley." Navia smiled—a small one, trying to hide the storm of thoughts in her head. "Thank you for your friend's purchase! Please come again!"

Hah, a talk with her again? Then why was Navia avoiding the tattoo shop like the plague? Clorinde had probably forgotten about that day already. 

Navia hadn't. Navia couldn't.

She wondered how Clorinde was faring. The whole week that passed was spent catering to customers who visited for the festivals and celebrations held in the Court of Fontaine. Customers flocked to the tattoo shop across hers, while Navia's shop received just as much volume of customers. She hoped the festival did not stress Clorinde out.

The same couldn't be said for Navia. Between dealing with customers and their complaints, checking the inventory, and working on the flower arrangements, Navia handled everything on her own, and nights would have her slump down her bed and sleep on the spot. 

While she loved this job, such stress and exhaustion often made her question her life choices. She was born a noble lady, with helpers by her side making her life easier; she could've just stayed like that for the rest of her life.

This particular day was no different. Just after closing and inventory checking, Navia's wobbly feet dragged her up the stairs and into her room above her beloved shop. Tomorrow, she'd yet again fight against the tide of customers she'd have to face, all with a smile to hide how tired she had been. 

Ah, after this festival, she'd close the shop for two days just to rest and recupera—

"Huh? Oh, ahhh! AHHHHH!"

The exhaustion in her face evaporated on the spot, and her already overexerted body moved. Her room, once neatly organized and perfectly arranged, turned into a mess of ruffled sheets and thrown objects as she put her marksmanship to the test. 

Her hands found anything her grip could touch—a broom, her flip-flops, or anything that could kill that fucking cockroach having a world tour in her room!

"Leave me alone!" Her shriek echoed around the four walls, dodging past the cockroach's flight path, its disgusting sounds making her skin crawl. It landed on her wall, her couch, her lamp, and everywhere its disgusting feet landed, where Navia couldn't hit without breaking her items. 

Dang it, she should've brought the pesticides yesterday!

Amidst the tense screaming, Navia settled with a slipper, clenched tightly in her fist as she eyed the cockroach on the curtains. As the great marksman that she was, Navia hurled the thing with all her might, only for it to drop uselessly on the insect's side, which made it fly around again, much to her panic. 

"Almighty Foçalors, save me!" Another shriek, before she shoved the curtains to the side, allowing fresh air to permeate her room, and for the cockroach to fly outside her room for its well-deserved freedom. 

Navia sighed in relief, just as the insect flew back to its nature, bringing her room back to its cockroach-free state. 

"Great job, Navia!" Ear to ear, she grinned in success, walking toward the window to close it, only to see purple eyes across her, wide-eyed in surprise.

Oh. 

It was probably the longest Navia had stared at someone, never budging an inch as Clorinde stared back, perplexed by what she had witnessed. Navia looked back, humiliated and mortified. Based on her reaction, she had seen something she wasn't supposed to.

With the tilt of Clorinde's head in confusion, Navia felt like dying. Her lips moved to speak, but she clenched them shut and decided not to. 

Yep, she saw everything.

Her confused stare and the thumb she raised asked a nonverbal question, and Navia nodded slowly, also raising her thumb for her nonverbal answer.

No, Navia wasn't alright! Barging in unannounced and stuttering like an idiot was already a bad first impression towards Clorinde! And now this!!

And the tank top Clorinde wore that exposed her bare arms did not help the heat that coursed through Navia's body at that moment!

Her raised thumb turned into a small wave of goodbye, waiting for Clorinde to do the same, before Navia drew her curtains close for tonight, hiding her yet again from the confusion in those purple eyes.

A box revealed itself as Navia lifted the blinds of her entrance window, resting alone on her shop's porch. A package? Navia didn't remember ordering something, especially not this early in the day. 

Opening it with caution revealed three pesticide cans, as well as a blue fly swatter with a note. 

"I don't like roaches, either."

Navia beamed like the sun for the rest of the day. 

Navia couldn't think of any way to talk to Clorinde again other than the windows. Yes, she could knock on her shop again and thank her for the pesticides that worked wonders in her storage, but she never wanted to feel vulnerable again under the darkness of the enclosed space and the burning gaze Clorinde shot her that day. 

Just as she expected, Clorinde stood by her window, exposed for the whole Court to see, watching the street below as smoke rose to the air from the cigarette in her hand. Oh, she smokes? And she drinks, too! That's unhealthy. 

Navia, on the other hand, watched from the small slit in her curtains, preparing her body and mind for a conversation. Her thighs already ached from her squat, and the whiteboard in her grip slowly drifted down her hold as time passed by. 

From watching the empty streets of Quartier Narbonnais to the drawn curtain across hers, Clorinde's surprised stare softened into a warm look, just as Navia lifted her whiteboard to deliver her message. 

"Thank you for the pesticides, Clorinde!"

Oh, that smirk on the other side was enough to melt Navia's wobbly knees!

When Clorinde went out of view, Navia thought she just ignored her there and left her alone. What a shame; she badly wanted another chance with her enigmatic neighbor. 

Her hopes, however, lit brighter as a figure reemerged from the other window, carrying what seemed to be a sketchpad.

"You knew it's from me?" She wrote. 

"You're the only one who witnessed my battle with the cockroach."

There was no reason to fear Clorinde at all! She was different from the intimidating tattoo shop owner Navia met inside the dark room a few days past. That Clorinde was intimidating and enigmatic with those piercing glares of hers and her deadpan expressions; this Clorinde radiated calmness, peace, and comfort in these cold Fontaine nights.

Before Navia could finish writing on her board, Clorinde already lifted her board.

"09xx-xxx-xxxx. Call me :)"

"Greetings, Lady Navia."

"Oh, I told you to drop the formalities, Clorinde! I am just a simple vendor in a humble flower shop!"

It was strange, hearing Clorinde's voice again, albeit from their phones. As fast as it came, gone were their whiteboard days; Navia stared at Clorinde from her window, phone in hand for this conversation across the street, her number saved on her phone—the number she had called more frequently these days.

Navia wasn't lonely, of course! She had friends—Furina, Charlotte, Chiori, Emilie—yet their busy schedules limited their conversations, even through the phone. 

While Clorinde was very available. 

"I'm sorry, Navia. It wouldn't happen again"

"Don't make it sound like it's a crime!"

But tonight, she'd be meeting with those friends for Director Furina's birthday party!

Was this a good time to call Clorinde? Maybe it was her only time to do so tonight. While her hands were full with preparations for this party, Navia would never miss a chance at talking to her enigmatic neighbor.

"Would you help me pick out a dress?" 

"Of course. Show me the dress, please."

Both her arms held up the dresses for Clorinde to see. Even from this distance, she could see her scrutinizing gaze judging each dress, even humming in thought as she made her judgment. 

"I would choose the blue one, as it would fit the color of your hair excellently. That is my opinion; whatever you wear, you'd always be the center of the Court's attention."

The good thing about their distance was that Clorinde would never see the way Navia's cheeks reddened. Ah, maybe she wouldn't need to add a blush-on later!

"Oh, ah! Uh..." Heh, what a surprise her answer even came with a free compliment! "Hehe! Thank you, Clorinde!"

The call lasted more than an hour—the longest both of them had ever had—and Clorinde stayed through the preparation process, up until Navia's chauffeur arrived for the night. 

"How will I repay you for your help, Clorinde? My preparation took so long I probably took most of your night!"

"Bring home food from the party."

"I'll try! My dress is big enough for a container or two of cakes, anyway!"

"Oh, no, I merely jest!"

And even as Navia stepped foot outside her shop and into the enclosed space of her Father's car, purple gaze never left her, making sure of her safety even in the comfort of her very own window.

Navia's call history was filled with Clorinde's name.

"Cakes make my throat sore." Clorinde once shared. "But I do enjoy a slice or two from time to time."

"Didn't you ask me for cake a few nights back?"

These unique conversations came naturally, until they etched themselves in their busy schedule—at the end of every day, where the night had taken over the skies, with their street devoid of light save for the few lampposts around and the two adjacent windows where they stood, savoring the cold breeze and the presence of each other.

It was the comfort of each other's presence after a day of hard work.

"I noticed that your skin is inkless." Navia once inquired. "I've... never seen inkless tattoo artists."

"There might be a few on the skin underneath my clothes." From her balcony, she could see Clorinde's smirk widen. "Would you like to see—"

"N—no thank you! I'm... I'm good!"

"Heh. I donate blood, that's why I am inkless."

"Donate... blood?"

"Tattooed people have ink mixed with their blood, making them unfit for blood donations."

"Oh, that's so thoughtful of you!"

"It was a suggestion by a regular customer, Wriothesley. He wanted to donate as well, but couldn't due to his tattoos; he recommended that I do it instead."

"Ah, Wriothesley. He frequents my shop, too. Who knows such a bad-looking man could be a cool girl dad!"

And in all honesty, Navia's thankful of Wriothesley; it was she who convinced her to visit Clorinde. She'd never have conversations like these on the phone with her if it wasn't for his help. 

Maybe Cupid had indeed helped her win Clorinde's attention?

"He once brought his daughter to my shop. Sigewinne. He adopted her when she was a baby."

"Oh? Did he tell you what made him adopt her? Is he a single dad?"

"He is a single dad. He said that life could get lonely sometimes, and a child would soften his hardened heart from his years as a boxer."

"It seems like you know him very well!"

"Uh... I... yeah. He's a regular at my shop, after all. He tells stories while lying there in the tattoo bed."

Navia thought it was adorable—the sudden flush of blood on Clorinde's face so intense she could see it from her window. It was a surprise, really, that Navia could bring color to Clorinde's enigmatic face. 

It really came to this—from her knees trembling in fear at the mercy of the woman shrouded in darkness, to this same woman with her shy grin as Navia chuckled at her reaction, further intensifying the flush in her cheeks.

It was nice to learn more about Clorinde than the unknown tattoo artist from across the shop. Their calls from across the balcony, too, had taught her more about her mysterious neighbor.

"What do cigarettes taste like?" Navia asked her another time, her curiosity getting the better of her at the sight of the constant cigarette between her fingers every time they talked. Her father also smoked cigars back then with his gentleman friends, and seeing Clorinde with one brought back her childhood curiosity.

"That is not a question I expected from you, Navia."

"I'm not going to smoke! I am merely curious!" She was sure Clorinde saw Navia's smile from the distance. "But if you don't want to tell me, then I'll just try it myself!"

Despite their distance, Navia saw the panic in Clorinde's eyes, earning a little chuckle at her stutters on the other line. 

"It tastes like mint most of the time."

"And uhm... why do you smoke? I hope it's not an offensive question!"

Acts such as smoking and drinking were deemed inappropriate; it was what was taught to young Navia back then. It gave her a negative impression of smokers, her father included. But...

"I needed its stimulating effects," Clorinde replied, her monotonous voice giving no hints of her emotions. "It wakes me up when I'm tired; it calms me down when I feel stressed."

...but when she first saw her with a stick between her fingers, huffing its smoke up towards the skies, Navia realized that smokers could actually look hot.

And the smirk on her lips, just as she lit one right in front of her, had Navia's knees wobble. 

Good lord, why was she so handsome?

Clorinde. Being that handsome should be illegal!

Clorinde... Clorinde...

"Ms. Navia?"

"Oh? Yes. Yes, Ms. Ganyu! Ms. Shenhe! I'm sorry, my mind is somewhere else at the moment!"

Ah, how could Navia's mind even shoot through the clouds when a customer's around? It was already embarrassing enough with Mr. Wriothesley!

The Glaze Lily—a common flower in Liyue—lay prettily on her counter, and Navia's gentle hands carefully wrapped the flower in pink paper. She had an abundance of these in her inventory; it had also become a popular flower here in Fontaine, and even the locals pay more just for a bouquet with the flower on it. 

Once wrapped, Shenhe cradled the bouquet as carefully as she could. Navia thought about whether this was for her or for someone special. While the transaction was done and the flowers were paid, Ganyu and Shenhe still lingered in the shop for idle conversation.

"Will you be attending the Film Festival in Opera Epiclese?" Ganyu asked. "I heard about your respected reputation around Fontaine, Lady Navia—the daughter of Caspar and a friend of Director Furina. Surely, your presence in the opera house would be highly expected."

"I'll be right here selling flowers!" 

Like before, festivals were a chance to gain more profit, and this two-day Film Festival was no exception. Navia had nothing to do in the opera house but watch performances that she had already watched, anyway; might as well just take the day for profits!

Although, she would've loved to watch that new film Furina made, featuring actresses Columbina Hyposelenia and Marionette Guillotin. 

And watch it with Clorinde? Oh, that would be wonderful!

Ganyu's wave of goodbye was their sign to leave, and her satisfied foreign customers vacated her shop with the flowers in tow. Oh, Furina mentioned that a Liyue film would also premiere alongside hers; maybe these two were after that. 

Hmm... She could just ask Furina for a copy of her film to watch at a later date. Unfortunately for Navia, the surge of customers for this festival required her to stay and assist them for maximum profits. 

...right. Perhaps she could ask someone from her mansion in Poisson as a substitute? Or maybe just close the shop entirely and attend the premieres? Besides, it's not like the end of the world if she leaves her flower shop for a day, yes? Just like the flowers in her inventory, she also has an abundance of money in her bank account—enough to sustain a year of unemployment! But in all honesty, Navia wanted to attend the film festival to support her friends!

And perhaps she could ask Clorinde to accompany her? Their conversations were limited to phone calls, and Navia would be lying to say she didn't want to have Clorinde right in front of her, talking to her in person and not just on her phone inside their devices. 

Clorinde... How tall was she, actually? How old was she? Where did she spend her childhood?

How purple were her eyes? 

Does she have a partner already? A boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? They would be extremely lucky to have someone like Clorinde in their lives.

Clorinde... Clorinde...

Clorinde...

"Lady Navia."

Clorin—

Clorinde?!

"Clorinde?!"

There wasn't a balcony separating them this time. No moonlight casting its glow on their windows. No smoke filling the air from a cigarette stick. No phones on their ears. 

Just two of them, five feet apart. 

This time, there wasn't the brightness in the sea of dark; there was darkness in the sea of colorful petals.

"Clo—?!"

"Hello, Lady Navia." Her smile did not carry the gloom of her enclosed tattoo shop. "It was time I visited you in your shop this time, right?"

No reply came out of Navia's lips, not even a sound of a whimper of panic from her throat. Only when Clorinde chuckled at the silence did it bring Navia back to reality.

"Clorinde!!" Her tone even rose an octave, "e—er... h—hi! Hi, hi, Clorinde! What can I do for you?"

"I would like to pre-order a bouquet for pick-up tomorrow."

"Yes! Sure! What's the occasion?"

"Just a gift for a special someone."

...oh? 

A special someone?

"Please, just wrap any flower of your liking." Clorinde continued, unaware of the chaos in Navia's mind. "I trust your judgment in making the most beautiful flower arrangements. After all, I adored the bouquet you left on your first visit."

There wasn't the genuine smile on Navia's face—only an almost mechanical one as her feet brought her back to the storage. 

A special someone. So she did have a partner now. How could Navia dream of a person already owned by someone else? 

Of course, someone as handsome as Clorinde would attract people, and one was lucky enough to be by her side. 

"Among all these flowers, Navia..." Clorinde gazed straight at her, right as Navia prepared the bouquet of various colors. "...what is your favorite?"

"I equally love my flowers, but carnations hold a place in my heart."

"Please, add those as well. I would love to have the florist's personal preference in the bouquet as well."

Navia never fumbled with her work, having wrapped a million bouquets in this shop's entire lifetime. Today was different, with Clorinde's gaze staring straight at her as she worked, as if scrutinizing her every move and the way the flowers yielded under Navia's touch. 

To think that Navia, who held a special admiration for the woman across her window, worked on a bouquet that the said woman would give to another person...

"Done! That'll be 1000 Mora. But for you, I'll give it for 400—"

"Are you free tomorrow, Lady Navia?"

The bouquet remained on Navia's arms, halfway through reaching out for Clorinde to take. Across her, purple stare never faltered, and Navia tried to stare back, only to be burned by its intensity.

"Uh—Clorinde?" 

"I would like to ask you to attend the second day of the film festival with me." Clorinde did not even stutter. "A friend of mine handed me two tickets, and I thought maybe I could bring you along with me. Such events with the high society of Fontaine make me feel uncomfortable, but having you with me would help me guide through the crowd." 

"S—sure! I—I would love to!" And Navia. There was no thought in that head of hers; those words came out on impulse, too late to take back anymore. "Er... I... I could help you observe and adjust to the... crowds..."

Wait a minute. Tomorrow? But... The bouquet—! And... And the special someone...

The curl of Clorinde's lips tugged Navia's heartstrings, only to race much faster at the realization of their current predicament.

"Excellent. I will pick you up and the bouquet tomorrow at 9 in the morning. Is that alright with you, Lady Navia?"

It's that pungent smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and sweat in the air that she had grown accustomed to. Of course, she would. She owned this place, after all, and she had grown used to even the loud cheers and groans that reverberated the four walls of this hidden ring.

Right as the elevator clicked open, her feet dragged her to her target—the bar in the distance—ignoring the way their patrons' whores sent her their seductive looks, trying their best to get her attention. Alas, her gaze shot straight to the counter—that heavy black coat and that ruffled hair probably from his match a while ago.

"So...! How did the date go?" His voice sounded deeper than she remembered, and there was that annoying wiggle of his brows that Clorinde wanted to shave off his face.

"Thank you." Was what she replied. Truly, she was thankful. If it wasn't for him, she'd never have the courage to bring brightness and sunshine to her dull and dark world. "Heh. Thank you, Mr. Cupid."

Wriothesley smirked, holding a shot glass in his hand. "Of course! Your Mr. Cupid, at your service!"