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Clorinde was relaxing in her spacious home on the outskirts of the Court of Fontaine. The champion duelist wage was nothing to scoff at. She could have afforded bigger and better, closer to her work. However, the duelist savoured the peace, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, which made it even more surprising that there was a knock upon her hardwood door.
Who could be knocking at such an hour? Clorinde mused to herself. The sun was long set, and she handed over her duty to the thin crescent moon hanging in the sky. The duelist wanted nothing more than to sink into the plush cushions of her sofa, body tired from the day's toil. There was not much more she could handle.
Pushing herself from her position with a sigh, missing the warmth of small dancing flames in the fireplace, Clorinde headed towards the door. Maybe she should have approached with more caution. This uninvited arrival was quite suspicious, all things considered. Against her better judgment, she unbolted and opened the door to find none other than the President of the Spina Di Rosula illuminated by the dim porch light.
The two women were no longer on bad terms per se. Clorinde had helped both in the case of the serial disappearances and the current rebuilding of Poisson before being called to return to her duty as a Champion Duelist. However, nothing could erase the years they spent in each other's affectionate company. Childhood friends turned eventual lovers. The two were inseparable before the fateful duel that brought all they had built together crashing down. Naturally, the two separated. Clorinde had not been able to look Navia in the eye for the past three years. Despite having to be in each other’s presence multiple times, the duelist could not stomach how Navia looked at her.
Thankfully, reconciliation dinner after reconciliation dinner, the duelist could now hold a conversation with her ex. Eye contact still evaded her most encounters then. Clorinde was not sure what was worse. At least when Navia held herself at a distance, she could reminisce, yearn to her heart's content without it bleeding into their brief interactions.
There was no one else for Clorinde. Try as she might, no one ever fostered a connection close to the one she and Navia forged. Long nights were spent looking in the direction of Poisson, wondering what the blonde was doing, if she was enjoying herself. Perhaps she was stressed. Maybe, just maybe , she was thinking about Clorinde too.
The duelist had grown accustomed to the loneliness. The President of the Spina, on the other hand, seemed to thrive. Taking her place at the helm of the organisation, steering them not to prosperity in the material sense but navigated them to more compassionate waters. The support from the public was at an all-time high. Clorinde wished nothing more than to share in Navia’s joy, but knowing she was fine without her had to suffice.
Now Navia was closer, Clorinde had to contend with her own mind wandering, reading into small details that weren’t there, that bred a dangerous hope within her heart. That Navia could be hers again.
Navia smiled at the duelist, eyes glinting. If Clorinde still knew correctly, she was about to be served with a suggestion she would not be wholly fond of. But because it was Navia, she would oblige as always. Countless lives of servitude would not amend past wrongs, so Clorinde vowed to do her best in this one. “This was much easier when I had your house key,” Navia stated, waltzing her way through familiar furniture, seating herself on the sofa without invitation. Turning to look at Clorinde properly, “You seem tired like you could fall asleep on the spot.” The blonde wasn’t wrong. The duelist closed and locked the door again, turning to Navia who looked entirely too comfortable lounging where Clorinde had just been sat moments prior.
“Work is…tiresome. Would you like something to drink?” Clorinde asked, occupying herself with filling the teapot and the stove. This was the first time Navia had visited in years. Had she known, she might have cleaned. It was always Clorinde making trips to Poisson, or their meetings confined themselves to the Court of Fontaine, never straying further. Clorinde had bought this house whilst they were dating, Navia had helped her move in. Someone smarter might have reorganised or changed the decor after their breakup, the duelist though, couldn’t bring herself to change a thing.
“That would be lovely, Clorinde,” Navia replied, warming herself by the crackling fire, looking up at the old sun-bleached photos that adorned the dusty mantle piece. A picture of the two of them, young and in love, innocent to the horrible fate that would drive a deep wedge. “As I’m sure you already guessed, I have something to discuss with you.”
Clorinde let Navia be in silence as she tried desperately to think of what could coax the blonde to her door at this time of night. Had Clorinde overstepped a boundary? She knew her feelings for the blonde would never fade, but doubted this sentiment was returned. Flicking back through all past interactions was interrupted by the loud rumbling of the old kettle coming to a boil. Tea for Navia, with cream and two sugars, but the duelist knew to drop an extra cube into the cup. Clorinde took her tea black.
Setting the cups down on the coffee table, Navia broke out into a small grin as she took her first sip. “You remembered,” she said, cradling the cup of tea in her hands. Clorinde made a small sound of acknowledgement, of course she remembered. “You said you had something to discuss”, Clorinde inquired, also taking a sip of her drink.
“Straight to the point as always, dear Clorinde, you haven’t even asked me about my day yet.” Navia teased.
Clorinde promptly spit out the liquid back into her cup in the most dignified way possible. Coughing in surprise, how foolish could she be to not even ask Navia how she was? As if reading her mind, Navia waved away Clorinde’s attempt to open her mouth. Setting her overly sweet cup of tea on the table, Navia intertwined her slender gloved fingers, placing them in her lap. “Have you seen anything about the Spina Di Rosula fundraiser gala in the Courts lately?”
Clorinde had. Anything adorning that logo would catch her attention. Navia had already chastised her many times for being overly involved in Navia’s affairs throughout the past three years, so Clorinde would be lying if she said she hadn’t read every flyer or eavesdropped on all relevant conversations. “No, I haven’t,” Clorinde lied.
Navia sighed, “Shame, I would have thought you’d have heard something, I put so much thought into marketing.” Navia admitted. “Right, that brings us to my predicament. I have had a number of suitors since taking on the mantle of President.”
Clorinde was grateful she chose not to take another sip of tea, for it, too, would have been cast back into the cup.
“It’s rather tiresome to deal with and certainly not something I would like ruining such an important occasion for me.” Navia nigh-on peered into Clorinde’s soul, watching for a reaction, one she would not get. “So, I ask for you, Clorinde, to be my date for the evening.” Navia continued, uttering the duelist's name so incredibly slow. The dark-haired woman tried to stick to her prerogative of not giving Navia the satisfaction, but even she could feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks.
Clorinde had been staring into her teacup this entire time, but she could not hide there forever.
Setting the cup down, she finally allowed herself to look at Navia, feeling her heartbeat that tad bit stronger inside her chest. Breathing in to steady herself, regaining a modicum of confidence on the exhale. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Clorinde replied.
How could she pretend to date Navia for an evening when her love for the blonde simmered and bubbled shallowly beneath the surface, threatening to reveal itself like how water spat from the kettle when boiled.
Navia laughed in slight disbelief, “It’s a great idea, Clorinde and you know it, no one would approach me with a champion duelist on my arm and before you ask it has to be you because the people of Poisson already love you. You did so much for them after the flood. And, well, people know we have history… it’s believable. It has to be you.” Navia argued.
The argument was logical from Navia’s point of view, but from Clorinde’s, she knew this would end one way and one way only. With her heart completely shattered. To hang the object of her affection on her arm, only for it to slip away at the night's end.
“When is the gala?” Clorinde took a sip from her cup.
“So you’ll do it?” Navia almost rose from her seat.
“When… is the gala?” Clorinde repeated, slower.
Navia sunk back into the velvet cushions, playing with the details on her dress. It was the blonde’s turn to refuse eye contact. “A week from now, but I need an answer soon or I have to think of how else to do this. Or find someone else ”. Navia contemplated.
“I’ll do it”
Navia turned back, meeting Clorinde’s gaze. The duelist was far from happy about this, such plots were best left for the next best seller she’d walk past on the bookstand. Clorinde was easy to read and even easier to persuade, at least when it came to Navia. It would be the death of her, but the duelist would walk into it willingly.
“I’m glad to hear that Clorinde, it will be a fantastic night. I uh, already had a dress in mind so there’s no need for you to worry about all that, you just need to show up and enjoy yourself, I’m sure the night will go swimmingly.” Navia beamed, clearly content with the outcome.
The two did manage to make idle chat, but it was obvious that Clorinde was growing weary. Placing her empty cup on the table, the President of the Spina Di Rosula rose to her feet, looking at the door with a slight unease. “Well, this was pleasant, I shan’t keep you.”
Before, Navia would let herself out. She was the one that gifted Clorinde the dish she kept her keys in after all, still in pristine condition after all this time. The duelist sighed, standing to see Navia out - it was plain to see she had forgotten how. The two reached the door, revealing the inky moonless sky above. Only the faint bulb outside lit their faces.
“Might I suggest you have some pastries available next time?” Navia taunted playfully, smiling before turning to follow the path that brought her here.
Next time?
Clorinde flicked the lights off, leaving only dancing flames illuminating the room. Once again found herself sinking further and further into her seat. What had she just agreed to? Navia had unreservedly tossed her off the deep end. The duelist had no choice but to take the dive.
— — — — —
The duelist was glad the fundraiser was hosted at the Palais. It would have been impossible to travel anywhere in such a dress and arrive punctually. What was Navia thinking? The light fabric hung from Clorinde’s neck, of which was adorned with an ornate black and gold choker. The dress flows from the electro-wielders body as if she were posing to be imortalised in some sort of marble statue, the corset that hugged her waist was far more intricately decorated than her day wear. She thought the garment was far too much for such an event but Clorinde would never say that, a chance to spend one night by Navia’s side again, the duelist would forsake all honour and concede.
Heels clipped against pristine floors as Clorinde entered the room. The Spina's funds weren't the deepest, hence the fundraiser but they still managed to procure a sizable room at the palais. A small stage with a single centred microphone was opposite the bar Clorinde entered next to, tables and a dancefloor separating them. Music washed softly of the room, mixing with the sounds of guests chattering. The room was packed, the duelist, admittedly, was slightly anxious.
She stood out in this dress far too much. Clorinde tried to cling to the sides of the room, making polite pleasantries with every acquantance she met. The room was dimly lit, the night air spilling through large windows on the wall across from Clorinde were not helping to light the room in the slightest.
The brightest spot by far was the bar. A row of spotlights cast light onto skilled bartenders and thankful patrons. Perhaps she would have a better chance at spotting Navia from there. Seeing a barstool become free as people moved to the dancefloor, Clorinde navigated through crowds to reach the seat. Even if she couldn’t find Navia, a drink might do these nerves some good.
If they were a couple would people have expected them to arrive together? They knew Clorinde’s status, maybe they would be understanding to her duties? A thousand questions swarmed Clorinde’s head as she took the seat, being careful to bunch the dress in such a way it wouldn’t dust the floor, nor would it reveal too much of her bare leg thanks to the sizeable slit in the garment.
As the duelist attempted to plan her attack but in the process of doing so was stumped by the one obvious question, literally staring her in the face.
“What would you like to drink, Madam?” The bartender asked politely.
Clorinde stuttered, lips opening and closing but no words escaped them. This was ridiculous, a champion duelist left speechless in such a way. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there was someone there to save her. A warm hand slid across the open expanse of Clorinde’s back, as if the space existing purely for this delicate hand to roam it.
A crimson creeped onto the duelists face, sure to be noticed in the comparatively brightly lit bar. Ears were overcome with the sound of her own heartbeat. The music and hum of chatter ceased to reach Clorinde’s ears, she could barely make out the conversation happening inches from her. The hand rubbed her back, light, comforting circles. The duelist could see the blonde curls in her periphery, moving perfectly into view as Clorinde turned her head.
Navia was beaming, as usual. Casually keeping conversation with the bartender as she rubbed Clorinde’s back. She used to do this when they were little, when they were younger. For all the confidence the swordswoman showed in the ring, she was not always like this and Navia comforted her nerves in much the same way she did now. Did Clorinde truly look that lost? Did Navia remember how much this calms her?
“Sorry Clorinde, I forgot your usual drink order but I hope it is still to your taste.” Navia said, half apologetically into Clorinde’s ear, to cut through the noise in the room. Of course, the duelist had no clue what had been ordered for her, but thanked her ‘date’ with a polite nod and smile just the same.
Navia stood upright, exiting Clorinde’s immediate personal space but leaving her finger tracing patterns about the duelist’s back. Eyes racked Navia’s form, the blonde clearly noticed this and stood a little taller, pulling her bare shoulders back, elongating delicious collar bones. The dress was simple, as Clorinde’s was, but it was effective. Bold yellow and black fabric, everpresent rose decalls adorning it. Eyes would have tracked the dress’s trail, but they were transfixed on the bare skin shown underneath. Clorinde was sure her face grew a darker shade of red, yet she couldn’t pry her eye’s away.
“Like what you see huh?” Navia teased, earning a guilty look from Clorinde, gaze finally darting away. “Aw, we can’t be having that now Clorinde,” she continues, hand trailing upwards, resting at the base of her skull, she tapped delicately. “We’re dating after all right? Eyes on me.” Navia commands.
As expected, Clorinde follows her orders. Meeting Navia’s playful gaze, she was as beautiful as she always was. Flowing blonde curls framing dazzling blue eyes, shining under the lights above. She was too close, how could you be this close and not wish to remain so forever. The tips of their noses ghosted eachother’s but there was a space between them. A jump that Clorinde was too hesitant to make, return any of Navia’s affection and she was sure to descend into the gulf that divided them.
The duelist steeled herself, as in a duel, she would have to make a move eventually. Glass chimed on the wooden surface, clear liquid swirled in the tall glass. Champagne. Navia truly had forgotten. Clorinde rarely drank, when she did she opted for something stronger, usually citrous flavoured. It reminded the duelist of the kisses they would share, notes of lemon dancing across her lips.
Thoughts rose and dissipated just as the bubbles did through the liquid. Clorinde swirled the glass in her hand, held cautiously. If the bubbles burst, they may slice her composure as a blade would flesh. It was one night, then Clorinde could once again retreat to loving Navia from afar. A friend…a good friend. Nothing more, as Navia ordered per the terms of their reconciliation.
Deep in thought, Clorinde barely noticed that the long black ribbon usually containing her dark locks had slid from its rightful place. Only the faint brush against her shoulder alerted her to the fact.
Whatever pace the champagne slid down her throat quickened. Clorinde had downed the entire flute. Earning a chuckle from her ‘date’. “Easy there, champion duelist, we have all night to drink,” the blonde sipped her own flute in a rather more refined manner. “About your hair, I intended for you to wear it down, for it to be free… A shame to stifle strands such as these,” Navia’s free hand combed through the hair in question, twirling ends around perfect fingers. “They should be free on some occasions, no? At least for tonight.” Navia's bright smile darkened just a bit.
The blonde liked to weave riddles, letting the recipient decide what they wished to take from it. Clorinde preferred to speak plainly, but no sentence was formed. The glass was empty. No bubbles could float their way to her lips.
In the time the duelist had struggled to locate her words, a familiar burning citrus had bloomed under her nose. Shaking herself from her stupor, her keen nose followed the scent as a hunting hound would. Bringing Clorinde face to face with Navia. The blonde curls filled her vision until a knowing tut directed the duelist’s gaze upwards.
Clorinde’s stomach lurched. They had not been this close in years. The mantra: it is all an act wound itself in knots within her head. The meeting of well-lit magenta to sparkling blue, Clorinde knew there was nothing she would not do for the woman in front of her. Clorinde would have shattered the champagne flute between her fingers if Navia had asked, in a roundabout way, she already had.
Instead, the cool glass was prised from her fingers. Replaced with a safer, warmer, studier drink. Clorinde only needed to inhale once to know the liquor swirling there. Navia had remembered. Was the champagne just a feint? Her preferred drink is a more decisive strike, imploring her to let her guard down?
“I can practically hear you thinking, Clorinde,” Navia inched towards the duelist. “Perhaps think about taking some initiative. This has to be convincing after all,” Navia whispered against the shell of Clorinde’s red-tipped ear. A small kiss planted on her cheek ensured the spreading of crimson, flushing her entire face. Initiative?
“That look you always gave me. Glad to see it’s still in your arsenal,” Navia commented before downing her own citrus liqueur, giving Clorinde a signature wink. Her hand slid from Clorinde’s back, lingering for a second too long before the President left, touting she had important people to meet and business to discuss. Leaving Clorinde to sit with that look on her face. Eyes that pleaded with Navia to stay. Lips pursed so taut to guarantee she would never ask.
Clorinde brought the drink— her drink – to her lips, allowing them to loosen just enough. The alcohol burned her throat. It was as if Navia herself were caressing her neck or if it were Navia flooding her senses with citrus. The blonde was long gone, but it was her hand that tipped the glass. Navia had always had a penchant for feeding stray animals she came across; some would return, but most had the world to explore. Clorinde had only this room. Clorinde was hungry. She had no choice but to come back.
The duelist set down the drink in one sharp motion. Preparing herself for battle. Perhaps Navia intended to rile her up. It was always so very easy. Clorinde’s gaze pierced the bottom of the glass, nearly empty. Cocking the glass toward her, the remaining liqueur pooled. Usually, she would have left it. Tonight, she raised it to her lips, indulging the last drop. A first step in satiating a three-year-long thirst. Clorinde set the glass down again, softer this time. Sheathing her blade. The duelist yielded her spot in the comfort of the shining surfaces of the bar, turning to enter the swathes of people in search of Navia. She couldn’t let her down, and perhaps there was a slight chance tonight would take mercy on her.
— — — — —
Clorinde had tried to keep a balance at Navia’s side and talking to patrons herself. Being present for the rebuilding of Poisson, logistically, she knew everything Navia wanted for the town. But, a self-professed weakness, Clorinde was not good with words. Her actions spoke far louder, an unfortunate by-product of her upbringing, leading with the point of the sword, always.
Navia was easy to keep in her periphery, or was it that Clorinde refused to let her leave it? Either way, their proximity came in handy when the duelist would inevitably grow tired of the stalemate she found herself in, relying on finding her date’s persuasive edge to relieve the frequent binds Clorinde got herself in.
However, every time this would happen, Navia got gradually closer to the duelist. No matter where Clorinde approached her, the blonde would be smiling politely, arm tangled as Navia clutched her bicep, leaning more and more of her weight into Clorinde as the night progressed. The duelist still had not been able to make the first move. Touches were in reposone to Navia’s. Complements and affections were only returned, never bestowed outright.
This dance had left Clorinde tired and Navia frustrated, if the increasing strength of Navia’s grip was any indication. With another donor won over, Clorinde retreated. Her open back presses against the cool glass of oversized windows, leaving Navia to flit from patron to press as she saw fit. After days of mulling over her approach to her affection for Navia, she had entirely forgotten to prepare for how this many conversations would drain her, with or without Navia.
Just as Clorinde had managed to steel herself, intending to find the Spina President. Everything was easier at Navia’s side. Clorinde barely had to talk, only keeping a vague idea of any untoward advances being made and putting on her best duelist visage to keep them at bay. But this also made everything so much harder. The less Clorinde spoke, the more she could feel Navia’s touch burning her skin, the way her smile set something alight inside of her regardless of whether it was at the duelist or not.
From her place in the shadows, Clorinde could see her now, beaming at a group of people, animatedly painting pictures of her future vision of Poisson to those with the power to help create it. A small smile found itself on Clorinde in turn. Seeing Navia thrive was all Clorinde had wanted; it eased the pang of pain, and she was happy in spite of Clorinde’s actions. The duelist had half a mind to slip out quietly from the party. Navia didn’t need her there like she had thought, but she couldn’t leave in such a manner. Weaving through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and one too many handshakes, Clorinde felt much better than she had expected herself to. The night had not been too painful. It was best to retire while this was still the case.
All plans of leaving ceased as Clorinde reached within a few feet of Navia and the current, clearly inebriated patron that was leering over her. It was darker in the corner of the room. Perhaps he thought he might be able to lay a finger on the president in the barely lit corner. Take initiative, Clorinde replayed in her head, closing the distance between herself and the pair. Navia was barely one to need saving, but Clorinde was brought here for this very purpose, and she was not one to shirk responsibility.
The man’s hand, intending to reach for Navia’s wrist, was met with empty space. Clorinde had stolen his intended prize, bringing Navia’s hand to her mouth placing a soft kiss upon it whilst impaling the man with a steely gaze. There was a slight flush on Navia’s cheeks Clorinde could make out despite the lack of light, she wondered what had placed it there. Clorinde greeted warmly Navia, pointedly giving the cold shoulder to her conversation partner.
Thankful eyes greeted Clorinde as Navia leaned in to give her ‘date’ a peck on the cheek. Arm snaked around the duelist’s corsetted waist, hand settling on the edge of her dress, fingers brushing an exposed hip. Clorinde in turn, placed a supportive hand on Navia’s back, ghosting slow circles as Navia had earlier, as Clorinde used to do years prior. The couple fell so naturally into the stance that the man before them could only stare with a wide-eyed expression.
He looked Clorinde up and down with a tinge of disgust, which the duelist gladly returned. As he returned his attention to Navia, clearly trying to ignore Clorinde’s existence, the duelist went on the offensive with pleasure. Her affections toward Navia now had a purpose, much safer than deploying them for the sake of it. Every time he spoke, the duelist would shift her hands, shift her weight. To shower Navia in gentle touches and delicate kisses pressed to the side of her face. When Navia talks, Clorinde praises her to no end, complimenting her innovative ideas and ogling the woman with ease before returning a sharp stare to the man before her.
“Miss Navia, I am very impressed by your vision for Poisson. The Spina Di Rosula was in dire need of someone with your outlook. I would be more than happy to pledge my fund to see it happen,” the man relayed, looking towards Clorinde. Clearly, there was something left unsaid.
Navia smiled, her polite smile not her true one, “That’s fantastic. I should hope we can discuss specifics tonight, so as not to invite any tedious visits to Poisson,” in the scarce light it was clear as day Navia did not like this man, her grip on Clorinde tightened each time he spoke. “ I understand you are from Liyue yourself, are you in Fontaine long?”
“About that, Miss Navia, I had intended to visit you in Poisson. I have a proposition see,” he sneered as charismatically as possible. Although he was talking to Navia, he looked fixedly at Clorinde, or rather the scars that adorned her arms, eyes scanning one particularly jagged wound from her youth. “You should have someone like me by your side as you usher in this new Poisson,” he smiled, if you could call it that, “Your date, is hardly fitting of you, Navia you deserve someone more your style.”
“That’s Miss Navia to you,” Clorinde mutters.
“Oh finally she speaks,” he remarks, gesticulating wildly before turning to Navia. “You need a partner who is good at talking to people, good at negotiation. If you want the people buy into to your ideas, someone with charm and pull, not one of Fontaine’s best thugs,” he chuckles, a wolfish grin pulling at his face in the shadows.
Clorinde knows she has to respond, tell him and the world why she deserves to stand at Navia’s side. But she doesn’t. Not one thought comes to her rescue, there is no remark she can parry with to deflect the cutting blow that Clorinde is not good enough for Navia, not in the way she needs her to be. Navia’s fingertips hadn’t even so much as grazed her skin before tonight, now she would struggle to find skin she hadn’t touched. Why did she invite Clorinde here tonight? Clorinde knew she didn’t hide her feelings well, but to toy with her in such a way was cruel.
The duelist’s attempt at a rebuttal was dead, Clorinde opened her mouth to say something… anything. Even agreement with the man would have done. Yet it was not her voice she heard.
“I think you are rather mistaken Sir,” Navia smiled again rather fakely, all hints of politeness had been forgotten. “You wouldn’t be insinuating I need help in my negotiations would you? I think I’ve been doing just fine by myself lately,” Navia cocked her head, narrowed eyes bore into the man like ice. “Clorinde–” Navia’s hands stroked the length of the duelist’s marked arms “the nation’s best fighter, how could I not want her by my side?”
Navia flipped Clorinde’s arm over, exposing the large scar that traversed the length of her forearm. “See this? This one is from protecting the people of Poisson and I from actual thugs that tried to pilfer what little we had at the time. You wouldn’t insult someone that meant so much to me and the people of Poisson would you sir? Here I hoped we would have a long and prosperous relationship” People’s heads had turned, people were observing from the corners of their eyes. Clorinde still stood speechless in the middle of it all.
Sensing the growing judgement the man finally replied “Of course not Miss Navia, my apologies” he spoke through clenched teeth
Clorinde would have been happy, but as Navia still stroked her arm, there was only a creeping despondancy that rooted itself in her stomach. The duelist indeed had sustained an injury defending the people of Poisson, alongside Navia, a careless mistake as she prioritised making sure Navia was out of harms way. But that was on her other arm, healed yes but the scar was not nearly as big, not as healed. The scar under Navia’s fingertips was given to her by the enigmatic woman herself. An accident as they sparred for the first time after Navia gained her vision. How could she not remember?
An uncomfortable feeling overtook Clorinde, she wanted to pull her arm away, tear herself from Navia’s grip and flee as she had decided to earlier. But as Navia was making politer conversation with the patron, there was no such option. The blonde continued to soothe Clorinde’s arm but each stroke only made the duelist feel sick. She would often run her thumb over the scar herself when she felt lonely, a comforting reminder of what innocence they had in youth. Navia’s touch now only made her feel more alone. It was consuming her, looking towards the light of the exit, Clorinde wanted to run.
“Clorinde– Clorinde?” Navia called, bringing her attention back to the blonde. The man had gone, only the pair remained in the weakly lit corner. “I’m sorry about all that, I didn’t think I’d actually need you to do anything like that but you see what I mean?”
Clorinde could only give an unconvincing nod in reply, looking to Navia’s hand still firmly on her arm. It began to raise, the blonde pulling the scar to her lips and pressing three kisses to the raised skin. “And I’m still sorry for this scar, ten years now. It’s healed nicely” Navia did remember and she was right, it had healed well, the edges were soft, blending into unmarred skin. The scar itself was smooth, raised only slightly, Clorinde had taken care of it like no other mark on her body. It was the only one gifted to her by the one she loved, a reminder of their time together.
A more convincing nod from the duelist finally permitted her release from Navia’s grasp, for someone who had been praying to be set free, Clorinde missed the contact and she was sure it was plastered across her face as that heavenly laugh erupted from Navia. The blonde placed a kiss on Clorinde’s cheek before turning to leave. “I have some speeches to sort out, when I find you next Clorinde it had best be on the dance floor,” Navia teased
— — — — —
Clorinde wished the wall was cooler. Some– any form of relief would suffice as the walls of the Palais seemed to crawl ever closer to her. The black of the night sky poured in through the sheer curtains covering the towering windows across from her. The duelist was always one to drink in moderation, but being in close proximity to Navia after all this time, it was intoxicating. Clorinde’s head spun with all that had transpired. It was a farce, only for tonight, but it felt so real, like before. Socialising, meeting people arm-in-arm, the distinct hint of lemon that persisted on Clorinde’s lips. But it wasn’t quite strong enough. The moments they used to steal together would have fixed that. None were taken tonight, of course. There was no slipping away out of view to pilfer a kiss when the other’s lips no longer belonged to you.
Clorinde raised her hand, destined for her forehead, hoping to soothe an oncoming headache; however, it landed on her lips. Fingertips ghosted along smooth skin despite the frequency with which Clorinde had been biting her lips, sharp canines threatening to break her skin every time Navia occupied her vision or mind. Luckily for the duelist’s lips, Navia hadn’t graced her eyes for a while now. Her duty to Navia was the only thing locking those large doors to the exit. Clorinde was not one to back down from a duel, but when there was no clear enemy to engage, she could only fight the losing battle with herself. Her body told her this was real but her brain knew it was fake. Clorinde wanted to throw herself into Navia’s arms whilst also feeling compelled to put as much distance between the pair as possible, lest she be discovered. Guilty of still loving Navia the same as she always had, if not more.
Thus the duelist’s feet did not shift, she was pinned to the floor by the weight of her thoughts. The room was hot, the music was oppressive and the endless sea of swaying bodies before her presented an insurmountable barrier to fresh air. Clorinde knew her gaze was cutting through the crowd, barbed aura dissuading any more insufferable small talk. The evening was coming to it’s scheduled end, yet these parties always continued into the early hours of the morning, an unfortunate consequence of Fontaine’s indulgent population. Clorinde never stayed, and she didn’t want to now.
Before Clorinde knew it, she was swept up in the current of bodies. Shoulders met shoulders as she was dragged by her wrist, her lifeline keeping her drifting within the waves. Eventually, they come to a stop, afloat amid the mass of people. The hand that once held her wrist now intertwined their fingers together. The other guided Clorinde’s hand to rest upon the curve of a waist. It was dark. Next to no light penetrated the middle of the dance floor. Clorinde didn’t need to see to know her dance partner was.
“I am disappointed you weren’t already dancing, although I am not surprised,” Navia teased as she fixed Clorinde’s dress, smoothing the fabric before hooking her hand around her neck and stroking the nape in the calming manner she had earlier. The duelist allowed her shoulders to slope, letting out a deep sigh, impossible to miss. “Sorry, Clorinde, I know you hate dancing, but I had to have just one, and look at you! Who wouldn’t want to be this close to you?
If Clorinde could see Navia’s face, she was sure the woman would have winked. The pair twirled and stepped, following the flow of the crowd around them. The duelist allowed her hand to wander just slightly. When would she have this opportunity again? In Navia’s arms, the music no longer assaulted Clorinde’s ears; it caressed them. Her feet sailed across polished wooden floorboards, and not one step dragged the heel of her shoe.
The pair swayed; Clorinde’s eyes were adjusting to the pitch-dark around her, only for her to find herself sinking in Navia’s eyes. The usual bright pools were murky, churning with a desire Clorinde had not seen in years. Surely Navia knew better than to look at her like that. Just for tonight, but that look. Clorinde drenched herself in it, savouring every second in the shadowy depths of Navia’s gaze. She would have willingly drowned there if not for a particularly quick pivot that tossed Clorinde from the waters, forcing the breath she had been holding into the caliginous caven of a room they were in.
A laugh quietly erupts from Navia, not her usual radiant tones, this was lightless. Clorinde felt the chuckle reverberate within her chest. Maybe she was the one who laughed after all? The duelist attempted to ground herself, clutching Navia’s hand a little tighter. Intertwined fingers had melted together. If she were wiser, Clorinde would have attempted to withdraw her hand had it not faded into the void beyond their bodies. To the duelist, they were the only ones in the room, in Fontaine, in the whole of Teyvat. Nothing mattered, not the night, not the circumstance, this act, this play they were performing. Clorinde had never been one for the stage. She preferred the arena. As space ceased to exist between the pair of bodies, Clorinde found herself in both.
Every limb tingled, numb. Navia peered over Clorinde’s shoulder, allowing the duelist to remember herself for a brief moment. This was an act, one she had performed suitably thus far, although the role was not one she could play again for her own sake. But as Navia’s eyes returned to her. Clorinde forgot herself again. This was no act; everything Clorinde felt was real, as it had always been. When Navia looks at her, she is no longer Fontaine’s best sword, a weapon to be dispatched for the sake of spectacle. No, now she is a lover, tender and delicate beneath her whetted exterior. Only Navia could pass such a threshold without a single scratch to show for it.
Would Navia blame her if she kissed her? Clorinde’s hooded eyes held Navia’s as they waltzed. The song was arriving at its end. The two had traversed the dancefloor together as one. Clorinde questioned if it were even possible to be separate from Navia again. She had to kiss her before the song finished, lest the chance be lost forever. The symphony swelled, and a strange courage surged within Clorinde in turn. She would do it, allow herself one indulgence in the name of this performance.
Vision all but gone, Clorinde inched closer yet found her lips taken instead. To kiss or be kissed, was there really a difference? The duelist did not battle for dominance. She didn’t need to. The kiss was soft, sweet and signed with Navia’s signature citrus. Clorinde hungered for more but knew this must sate her hunger. The blonde would not feed her in this way again. Perhaps this was a mistake. How was Clorinde to stay away after tasting ambrosia again. The duelist poured everything into the kiss so that Navia might be enlightened to her true feelings. Yet, with every passing second, the two only fell further into the abyss.
As the music concluded, lips distanced themselves. The lights in the room had begun to rise, and Clorinde was rudely reminded of the world around them. With face flushed and chest heaving, she looked to Navia, but it was not returned. Clorinde turned her head to follow the woman’s eyeline, and there he was. The man from earlier. The duelist whipped her head back around to find Navia was looking at her this time. However, there was a tinge of disappointment within her gaze. One wound after another, Clorinde’s heart would not slow. Did Navia not feel the same? Was she not flooded with the same thoughts Clorinde was?
The duelist searched Navia’s expression for an answer but came up blank. Navia released Clorinde’s hand and patted the dark-haired woman on the shoulders, a hint of satisfaction sitting on her face.
“Thank you for that,” Navia said. She jutted her head in the man’s direction but held Clorinde’s gaze. “Needed to send a clear message to him, though I’m not sure it worked.” she bemoaned with a sheepish laugh. Clorinde scoured for words that kept themselves hidden, only being able to look at Navia with a stunned expression.
“Well, this was lovely, but I must prepare for some closing speeches. Thank you again for tonight, Clorinde…” Navia paused, combing for words of her own. Luckily for the blonde, they came far more naturally. “You did as you were asked…perfectly. Wait for me after I finish– I’d like to speak to you.”
Clorinde could only nod in response as her own hand fell from Navia’s waist, feeling entirely too empty. Navia excused herself once more and manoeuvred herself through the crowd, out of Clorinde’s view. The duelist turned to look for the man again, but he was gone. She was left alone with her thoughts trashing about her head in an excruciating tempest. Clorinde’s feet carried her from the dancefloor to the large door leading to the balcony. No one was out there. They were all excitedly awaiting Navia’s speech. Clorinde could not bring herself to listen to a single word. So she slipped into the night’s cool embrace.
The sky appeared moonless. Perhaps she was also hiding; it was cloudy after all. Clorinde peered up at the unlit sky. Not a single star looked back; maybe they pitied her. Calloused hands drew along the coarse stone of the balcony railings, coming to a stop in the middle to rest on the sturdy stone pillar. She needed the support. Fontaine’s landscape slept below her. Even in the gentle breeze, the blades of grass would not join her in swaying with it.
Clorinde was good at thinking on her feet. It was part and parcel of being a duelist, but as always, Navia left her stumped. With all that had transpired tonight, an internal conflict waged. She would have to confess eventually. Prepare an apology for not being able to let go. Clorinde’s nails scraped across the rough surface as she gripped the railing tighter. The night had lived up to her expectations. It hurt more than any flesh wound she had ever received.
A cheer erupted from behind her as Navia’s muffled voice trickled from the room, barely reaching Clorinde’s ears. A part of her was thankful for it. The duelist would not have survived another moment, knowing Navia was within arms' reach, but she would never be able to hold her.
Objectively, the night was a success. Clorinde had fulfilled her purpose here. There should be a sense of fulfilment somewhere within her body; on the contrary, she had never felt emptier. Guilt had consumed all within her. Why had Navia asked this of her? More importantly, why had Clorinde accepted? She was being greedy, practically salivating at Navia’s affection toward her.
She would beg for scraps were it not for the fact she had grown accustomed to going hungry these past three years. Except she didn’t have to beg tonight; it was practically served to her, even if it was a mere facsimile of what she craved. It tasted the same, and Clorinde was unsure if she would be able to deprive herself again.
Another cheer rang out from the hall. Another speaker took the stage. This time Clorinde turned her head to send her own silent bittersweet thanks to Navia for this night, for sating her desire for a few short hours. Feasibly, she could make an exit without running into the blonde, she had told her to wait, but surely she could understand. Clorinde brought her head back around to gaze one last time at the scenery before calling it a night until the sound of footsteps fell softly behind her. Of course, the world would not be so kind.
With a deep intake of breath, Clorinde steeled herself for a conversation she was not ready to have. Yet when she turned around, the duelist was at a loss for words for a completely different reason.
“Ah, you supposed me someone else. My apologies”, Neuvillette spoke calmly as he joined Clorinde in looking upon the region’s landscape.
“No apology needed, Monsieur. You enjoyed the evening, I hope?” Clorinde questioned, trying to relax as much as possible.
The Iudex swirled the chalice of water in his grasp, taking a sip before replying. “Yes, I have quite enjoyed the festivities. The Palais is often reserved for business. Miss Navia’s merriment brought a well-needed change of pace.”
Clorinde sounded a reply, trying to quiet the sigh she released; Neuvillette cleared his throat in turn. “However, I see that you Clorinde, perhaps, grow weary of the function much like I do.”
“Nothing escapes the Chief Justice, it seems, yes– tonight has been…taxing. To put it lightly,” Clorinde admitted.
“Reasonably, I know I am not the best suited for this. I wished to speak to you sooner, but this chance has gifted itself to us now.” The man took another sip before continuing. “You feel deeply, Clorinde, that much is plain to see, even with my…limited capacity to comprehend human emotions. I believe I understand this one.”
“I have seen it ruin many. Equally, I have witnessed it liberate them. As an ever-present spectator, I offer you solace of a view not tinted by the lens of your own eye. Rivers they twist and turn. Sometimes, an occurrence causes a distributary to form, to shape its own path for a time. I think this phenomenon is it’s most beautiful when the streams rejoin each other once again.
In truth, Neuvillete’s words terrified her. Even if Navia returned her affections, how long would she keep her? The duelist had thought them inseparable before, unable to even fathom the rift between them now. Tears threaten to fall from Clorinde’s eyes. The moon decides now is the time to peep from behind thick clouds.
Thin streaks of light catch the budding droplets, clearly catching the attention of the Iudex. “My apologies, Clorinde. I wished to lighten the mood but fear my presence has had the opposite effect.”
“No, Monsieur, there is comfort in knowing someone cares. Thank you for taking the time to be here”
“My pleasure, Clorinde. I will leave you to your thoughts. Please do not hesitate to find me if you wish to talk more. We both know I do not stray far beyond the Palais walls,” Neuvilette pivots to leave. “Goodnight, Clorinde.”
“Goodnight,” the duelist managed to choke out as the door opened. There was a moment’s pause. Clorinde could make out quiet chatter as people took their leave, and the door clicked shut again.
Silent tears fall, streaking her face and soaking into the stone. If she were the Iudex, the heavens might open in sympathy. Tears consoled by distant relatives, Clorinde had no such respite. Her night was done; she couldn’t bear another moment here.
She wiped her eyes and unfurled the ribbon usually in her hair from her wrist. The duelist made her way towards the door, dipping her head to bind flowing locks in their usual fashion. Clorinde had almost reached the door before a pair of unmistakable shoes panned into view.
Hands fell from her hair, holding the ribbon in one still. Navia’s expression was grim, gloomy even. Clorinde couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a second before breaking it. The blonde advanced, and the duelist retreated until her lower back hit the railing. A hand from the darkness reached for her, settling on her cheek and wiping tear-stained cheeks.
“You’ve been crying”
More tears fought their way to the surface.
“Clorinde”
The droplets fell.
Fresh tears tread the paths of old. Clorinde tore Navia’s touch from her as she covered damp eyes, trying, willing herself to calm down.
Footsteps sounded. “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all,” Navia muttered as she headed for the door.
“I still love you,” Clorinde all but whispered.
Navia stopped but didn’t turn. “Do you, Clorinde? Or do you think that is what I want to hear, something that will make me stay?”
“I–I just. Tonight, it… it felt so much like the others. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
“You finally caught on, Clorinde. I truly thought you would have said something sooner,” Navia retorted. Shooting Clorinde an exasperated look. “You really think I would have asked this of you knowing how it would torment you, Clorinde? I see how you look at me! You think me that cruel? I needed you to see I feel the same”
“A poor plan, Navia. You could have asked me, told me! Anything but–” Clorinde gestures to the dying sounds of the gala.
“You and I both know, you wouldn’t have believed me.”
Clorinde rips her gaze from Navia. Digging at the non-existent dirt under her fingernails.
“You know I’m right!” Navia shouted.
“You’re right,” Clorinde sighed in defeat.
“I want to love you Clorinde, but you keep yourself from me,” Navia took a step towards Clorinde. One the duelist would have retreated from. Not this time. “Everything has changed for me these past three years. Everything except my feelings for you! I thought they had. How could they not?” Navia was shouting now. “So I have been trying to make my affections abundantly clear, but you– you pull away every time.” Navia finally reached Clorinde, seizing her hands in her own.
“I never stopped loving you, Clorinde. All these years, that same look in your eye, yes, I saw you looking. You still loved me in spite of the way I treated you. I knew– I knew that you loved me. Truly loved me, not just reflecting my own feelings back at me,” Navia’s grip tightened, but Clorinde couldn’t move a muscle.
“You thought your love caused me pain. Maybe it did, maybe it does now but it also makes me feel a million other things. You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to pull away using me as an excuse. Think of yourself, Clorinde. I know in my heart I want to try us again.” Navia brought Clorinde’s hand to her sternum; a pulse was racing but the duelist could not decipher who it belonged to.
“Tell me you’ll try. Tell me because you want to. Not because it’s what you think I wish to hear.”
Clorinde’s finger’s closed delicately around Navia’s hand. They were nervous but they did not tremble, stedied by every word that spilled from Navia’s mouth. Fingertips ghosted smooth skin
“The truth, that’s the only thing I want to hear from you, Clorinde.”
For the first time that night, for the first time in years, Clorinde took the opportunity to be selfish. Embracing Navia with complete autonomy, just as the moon fully embraced the black of the night sky, she was hiding behind the clouds no longer. Clorinde whispered into Navia’s ear.
“I’ll try.”