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"How are you feeling?"
In the darkness, she heard someone whispering, which she dismissed and took as one of the other dozen voices screaming in her head right now. A moment later, a hand wearing a silk glove touched the back of her own hand.
Arlecchino flinched, alerted.
"Oh sorry, did you not hear me coming in?" The familiar voice said again, a bit clearer now. This time, she finally recognized the source of that voice.
"Sandrone. Hello."
"I heard about what happened during the experiment. How are you holding up?"
It was curious, really. Though she could barely see a thing in her dark room, with all the curtains drawn, the whole space somehow still felt like it was shrinking, expanding, and rotating at the same time. Her whole body was still aching and sore, and she felt like she was burning, scorching pain radiating from her arms to shoulders.
She didn't quite remember how she made it back, whom she greeted on the way, or how exactly she opened the door. All she could vaguely recall at the moment, frankly, was how hard she was trying to walk in a straight line as she made her way back.
"Some ache. Nothing I'm not used to." She said, keeping her voice level.
It was true; she was used to the searing pain whenever abyss progressed more on her limbs. However, the extreme fatigue this time around — mentally and physically — definitely made it all worse. Her forehead glistened with sweat and it felt like someone was drilling on her temples. She needed rest, yet she could not fall asleep. The voices in her head kept getting louder and drowning her in it.
She blinked wearily. It all felt so inefficient. She could be working, or she could be sleeping and resting so she recovered faster, but now she was stuck doing neither. The inefficiency was getting frustrating.
The petit lady took one step closer to the bed and her hand ghosted from Arlecchino's hand to her forehead.
"You have a fever." She concluded softly. "Do you need meds?"
"This is the result of abyss corruption, so the regular fever medicine might not work." Arlecchino leaned a bit into the touch of cool silk. "I can manage. Don't you still have work, Sandrone?"
"Hmph." The gloved hand retracted, leaving Arlecchino longing for the contact. The petit lady walked to the other end of the room. "I just handed down some work and will have some free moments for tea. I remember you having some fancy tea in your quarter, so I'm here to rob you clean while you are weak."
Arlecchino chuckled, feeling the frustration that had been building up inside her subsiding slightly. Sandrone didn't even bother with her excuses this time.
"Help yourself with all the tea you'd like."
She made a mental note to send the boxes of the fancy tea from Chenyu Vale that she received as gifts to Sandrone later.
"Do you feel like joining me?"
"That would be very kind of you, Ms. Robber, but one glass of water would suffice."
Sandrone let out a faint laugh.
The room went back to being quiet again. All she could hear was the angry screams in her head and the rhythmic turning sound of Sandrone's winding key. After a bit, the sound of water boiling came from the other side of the room.
Sandrone came back carrying a cup of tea and one glass of water, setting them both down on the bedside table.
"Can you sit up on your own?"
Arlecchino tried to prop herself up as effortlessly as possible, but her shaky arms betrayed her. She tried again, turning her body to lay on the side instead, and drank all the water in one gulp. She belatedly realized how much her throat had felt like Sumeru desert.
"Oh, poor you."
The pair of gloved hands found their way onto her cheek again and brushed some hair out of her face.
"What happened there? There's a scrape." The hand gently touched the side of her forehead.
Out of all the other million places that were aching currently, she didn't even notice the scrape on her forehead.
"Probably from the fall."
Sandrone sighed, patted her on the cheek, and walked away. She returned a moment later, carrying a tissue and a towel in hand. She tapped lightly on the scrape with a damp tissue, before instructing her to lay down again and placing a wet towel on her forehead.
"You said no meds, but it's still good to get the fever down."
She felt a dip on mattress. Sandrone sat by the edge of the bed. Before long, a cool, damp towel was carefully placed on her forehead. She sighed in relief.
"Thank you for checking in on me."
She sought out and put her hand on top of Sandrone's, rubbing small circles appreciatively.
"Well! The faster you recover, the faster we'd be able to make a break-through… Or that's what Pierro would say." Sandrone muttered, intertwining their fingers. "I remember you having issues falling asleep sometimes, and you need rest now. Worse, archons know if you'd be secretly holing up in your quarters working."
She paused, pouting, taking a sip of her tea.
"If you'd really like to thank me, don't be so reckless next time."
Arlecchino felt her heart flutter. Ever since Sandrone's return, she had become more and more honest with her feelings. Moments like this still took her by surprise sometimes.
"How timely of you. The voices have been quite loud." Arlecchino admitted quietly. She was never the type who would be straightforward with her struggles, and admitting this while being bedridden and visibly weak had made her feel more pathetic and vulnerable than usual. However, it seemed that after the time they spent together, she, too, had become more honest in a way.
"How can I help? Do you need some music?"
The mechanic girl leaned closer, clearly in her problem solving mode, and Arlecchino couldn't help but feel a bit mesmerized.
"Are you going to sing for me, Sandrone?"
"Not a chance. That's Columbina's thing, and she's not here now, unlike last time you got sick. I can play some records if you'd like."
"Hmmm… But I find your voice more soothing than records."
Sandrone turned away and feigned annoyance, in a way that told Arlecchino she was definitely blushing.
"You know, I'm impressed by your ability to smooth talk with abyss corruption and a fever. Don't humans normally think slower in this circumstance?"
Arlecchino shrugged.
"Technically just fatigue and fever — Lumine helped with the abyss corruption. Anyhow, I'm used to it by now."
Sandrone turned back and looked into her eyes with mixed emotions, gears in her eyes turning. You shouldn't be used to this in the first place. You should be taking better care of yourself. She could almost see these words taking shape on Sandrone's lips, but at the last moment, only a sigh came out.
Sandrone pinched the bridge of her nose. A frown formed briefly on the doll's pretty, delicate face, just like how she looked when she was struggling to make a break-through in her research. Something was bothering her, Arlecchino could tell, but Sandrone chose not to spell it out at the moment.
"Let me read you something then. What would Lord Arlecchino like to hear for the bedtime story?"
"Actually, if you could read the brief that Lyney handed in-"
"No way."
"Your research papers then."
"Nerd. But no. Pick something that puts less strain on your brain so you can sleep."
"Let's just chat then." She squeezed Sandrone's hand. "Tell me about Alain."
"What do you want to know? Weren't you the one who gave me all the intel on the Ordo and everyone there in the first place?"
"Well, you, Alain, and Pulonia lived together for a while, no? Tell me about what your home was like."
"I would hardly call that a conventional home, though. I don't think my experience is representative of the universal experience."
"Consider it one of the samples I'll take, then."
"Alright. Close your eyes now, you don't need your eyes open for the story."
Arlecchino could feel Sandrone lying down beside her. She still held Arlecchino's hand tightly with one hand, while the other hand was tracing mindless patterns on her arm.
Then Sandrone started telling her stories: stories of when she first opened her eyes in this world, of her walks with Alain and Pulonia, of her first time trying coffee… All pleasant and tender memories with the scent of the sun.
So pleasant and tender that, in a corner of her mind, she felt these stories almost unfit to be told now, in a nation armed to its teeth, enduring everlasting snow storms, and on the brink of being wiped from history forever. Nor to her, someone who'd only ever known home as a place of cold exploitation covered by a thin fluff of lies and had passed it down as so.
However, just like those creatives who got inspirations before slipping into sleep, she grasped onto these fragmented stories and wished she could still remember them by the time she awoke again from her feverish rest. There was still penetrating pain from her temples, but slowly, she felt her tense, sore muscles relaxing.
Just before her mind drifting into unconsciousness, she felt a gentle hand brushing through her hair before someone hugging her close.
She woke up to a gloved hand touching her forehead.
Arlecchino shot up, alerted.
The room looked a bit different now. The lamp on her bedside table was on, so the room was much brighter.
"Woah, relax, it's just me." Sandrone put another hand on her shoulder to steady her. "How are you feeling?"
"Good." She answered automatically, which earned her an unimpressed glare from Sandrone, before pausing, taking in her senses properly. "Still feeling slightly disoriented and sore, but refreshed and much better now."
"Good." Sandrone crossed her arms with a faint smile. "Your fever seems to be down too."
"How long was I out?"
Sandrone frowned and turned to look at the clock.
"About five hours? It's dinner time now. I went back to sort something out after you fell asleep, and only just returned." Sandrone raised an eyebrow. "To be honest, I was a bit surprised to find you still sleeping by the time I came back. You must've been exhausted."
Oh. If she didn't notice Sandrone slipping out of bed, she must've really been worn out.
"What can I say? Lady Sandrone must have soothing effects on me."
This earned her a light flick on the head. It was true, however. She had not slept consistently for five hours even at night for as long as she could remember. Even the voices seemed to quiet when Sandrone was around.
"Anyways, I brought us food." Sandrone changed the subject and turned to the coffee table, though under the light of the lamp, Arlecchino could clearly see the deepening blush on her cheeks.
"Would you like to have dinner over there, or should I bring it to you?"
"I think I can join you there."
Sandrone stayed close and watched attentively as she climbed out of bed, making sure she wouldn't suddenly collapse.
They quietly had borscht with slices of rye bread over on the coffee table. After meal, Sandrone poured them both some floral tea.
"How was everything going on your end today?"
"After your experiment? There weren't as many pressing matters after that." Sandrone, holding one cup in hand, casually leaned against Arlecchino's shoulder. "There were a few more things to do, but most of those were just preparatory."
"I see."
"Tell me one thing, Arlecchino." Sandrone tilted her head and looked up at Arlecchino from her shoulder, her legs were now on Arlecchino's legs too, holding her in place.
"Yes, m'lady?"
"Be serious."
She looked into Sandrone's blue eyes, the colors of which reminded Arlecchino of the oceans in Fontaine. The little gears in them were turning again. Gears and ocean-blue, Sandrone truly was as Fontaine as they came.
"Arlecchino, you gave everyone a fright today by taking lots of risks with the experiment. I heard you upped the Delusion output from 50 percent to 100. So tell me honestly, were you taking risks only because Lumine was there and could step in if anything had happened?"
Oh, that.
Arlecchino tapped her index finger on the stem of the delicate porcelain cup, contemplating.
What was she thinking, really? She definitely was not preparing to die today. There were still responsibilities that she needed to accomplish. But at the same time, she couldn't quite truthfully argue that she treasured her life or health that much. There were more pressing issues that easily took priority.
"We are running out of time, Sandrone… This nation is running out of time." Arlecchino said slowly, thinking over every word, "I assure you I was not deliberately throwing myself in harm's way, but with the crisis looming, I thought a bit of risk was worth taking."
"I know! I know. ARCHONS. That wasn't what I asked-" Sandrone pouted. Then, she opened her mouth a few times, as if trying to form sentences but somehow couldn't get the words out.
"Sorry for making you worried." Arlecchino said apologetically, breaking the silence. She did feel bad, now that she was in a more lucid mind and could see how much it had shaken Sandrone. She had already lost enough in her life, and Arlecchino didn't intend to add to that list of losses Sandrone would have to endure, at least anytime soon.
"Hmph! As if! As if I would worry about you idiotic-"
Immediately, Sandrone leaped a few feet away, looking at her indignantly.
She seemed to be processing multiple strong waves of emotions all at once, and a few moments more of silence later, one emotion seemed to win over, and Sandrone let out a grunt of frustration.
What happened next was fast but certain. Sandrone stormed close again, straddled her lap, grabbed her on the collar, and firmly planted a kiss on her lips. It was as if the ever rational engineer couldn't find an elegant, organized way to put her feelings into words, so she tried to convey them through this kiss. And somehow, Arlecchino thought she understood.
They separated a few moments later, both gasping for air. Sandrone seemed to finally register what had just occurred in a flurry of emotions, coupled with the fact that she was still sitting on Arlecchino's lap. Her face turned beet red.
"A-anyways," Sandrone coughed into her fist, "yes, Arlecchino. I was worried."
Sandrone was making a movement to leave before Arlecchino tugged on her arm, making Sandrone let out a surprised yelp, and embraced her tightly.
"Sorry. Thank you for taking care of me today."
They were holding each other tightly, and Arlecchino could feel Sandrone's frantic breathing slowing down. She relaxed and nuzzled a bit closer to the crook of Arlecchino's neck.
Arlecchino's hand moved in soothing circles on her back.
"Stay for the night?" She asked quietly.
She felt Sandrone nodding on her shoulder.
At her suggestion, they both changed into comfortable pajamas and turned in early that night.
From Sandrone's frown as she glanced at the clock, Arlecchino could tell this time was too early for her usual bedtime. But she didn't protest, simply undid her bun and slipped under the cover with Arlecchino.
"Your hands are cold." Arlecchino reached for her hand under the cover, caressing over her joints. Sandrone usually wore gloves, but on her fingers, one could still notice the faint trace of mechanic joints.
"Hmph, sorry for making your bed cold."
The hand was about to retract, but Arlecchino caught it before it was able to.
Arlecchino laughed quietly.
"I wasn't complaining. It was actually a relief to feel your hand on my forehead earlier, while I was feverish." Arlecchino reached out and held the shorter woman close. "I truly think your presence is comforting."
"Smooth talker."
Despite that, Arlecchino could feel her inching closer, burying her face into Arlecchino's collar, her hands finding way to Arlecchino's back. At this distance, Arlecchino could even sense the fragrance of coffee from her. It was grounding — the presence and the weight and the softness of her body, and for a moment, the grand plans and schemes finally took a backseat in her mind.
She slipped into a peaceful sleep, for the second time that day, listening to the rhythmic turning sounds of a winding key.