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///// The zhar-ptitsa’s tail flickered with fire, the only source of illumination in the otherwise drat and dark room. Perching on top of her shoulder with one swooping motion, glowing incandescently like a lantern, it burned her body, scarring her already wasted tissue. Some of the titles of the rows of books could be made out from the faint light it provided. Collecting them was a personal interest of hers. Most of them had faded spines and eroded pages. The Tsaritsa stroked its head with her fingers from which black had already been coaxed. It stood out prominently against her ethereal, paper-white skin, with a starkly inhumane undertone of blue as a reminder of her divinity. Diaphanous robes fell from her shoulder, akin to a spider web. It sparsely provided any warmth, but the Cryo Archon felt neither cold nor hot. “Hydro Archon.” she said. Her voice was frost and mist and avalanches. Her voice was little more than a cracked whisper. “What secrets do you hide?” She felt the entirety Snezhnaya in her heart, in the ichor that tunneled her flesh. Maybe there was no love between her and her people, but there was reverence and respect - that was all she ever demanded. Her fourth Fatui Harbinger would be heading out to Fontaine and making acquaintance with the newly made ‘Archon’ by now. She murmured. “What have you done of Egeria’s sins? What do you do with the Hydro Sovereign?" If she were someone capable of inflection or intonation, it would've been inquisitive. Alas, she had long lost not only such sentimentalities, but also curiosity. She only intended to dig up this information because it was vital in acquiring the Gnosis, even if that plan would be set in motion a few centuries later. Her eyes roved over the crown on top of the zhar-ptitsa, her neck tilted at an unnatural angle. The smooth curve of its neck, its fiery talons. A reminder of her deity hood that she survived its flame. It brought her no doom; living in her chambers willingly, a constant companion. She smiled. Her muscles seemed to tear slightly at the upturn, so unused to such an action. On her it looked wicked and unsettling. She hardly partook in mundanities like wrinkling of the forehead or scrunching of the nose. If someone lacked the mental capacity to understand her without such nuisances, then they deserved the punishment that awaited them. “Are you another one like me? Seeking to destroy or deceive the Heavenly Principles?” No matter. Her Fatui Harbinger would bring her the answer. \\\\\ The first she noticed about Fontaine was its elevation, the everlasting waterfall giving the impression of it being built upon clouds; its existence like a legend or folklore or tale. The second was that the harbour’s air here was a lot… fresher. Somehow, during her stay at Snezhnaya, she had gotten used to puffs of air forming when she spoke; to her blood freezing in her veins when dared to step outside; to treating the clear skies as a visitor who dropped by once in a blue moon. Furina sighed loudly, crossing a leg over the other. “You know what to do,” she instructed lazily, “Investigate every inch of this country. Submit the report to me. Plant spies as you see fit. “I'll visit the House of the Hearth first. Make the arrangements.” Furina hoped they didn't notice the way her throat stuck at that. It would be her first time stepping foot in that place since that day. It had been years, and she had avoided that place like the plague. Her subordinates had run the orphanage for her.“I'll deal with the Hydro Archon personally. Treat this mission with the utmost caution.” Furina winked suggestively. "The Tsaritsa would not like if you handled it otherwise." a thinly veiled threat. The Tsaritsa would outright state the sentence their crimes would bring with detached brutality, but Furina much preferred to straggle with the trickiness of implications. It was a delightful game. Focalors had always been so much better at these things than Furina. Furina preferred acting and singing. Mother had spent a great deal of time trying to train or coerce or beat the theatrics out of her. Still, she was the Fatui most suited to entertaining foreign relations. Her personal affiliations or interests hardly mattered. The Fatui flanking her sides bowed deeply before distributing the duties among themselves with sharp gestures of hands. Furina had no doubt in their efficiency - they were handpicked, of course; the best of the best. She knew how to spot talent better than most, because she was one of the rair ones who actually paid attention, if to mold herself in reception and nothing else. The mere idea of dealing with someone of such higher power than her - even if her heritage made her flesh immortal - made her cower in fear. In a fair fight, she never would have been able to defeat her mother. She had clawed her way from tricks and deceptions, from maintaining an aura more than fulfilling on her promises. Furina's talents laid in her diplomatic, undercover, and manipulative skills. Furina had not become the Fourth from physical prowess, and that made her vulnerable. No one would ever see that, though. They would only see the charismatic and playful expression stiched on her face. ///// Arlecchino’s nails thrummed against the armchair rythmatically. The lastest convicts had been judged guilty by the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. She favoured the whole name, no matter how unnecessarily wordy or fancy. This was a a sign of regard she could spare for her other half. The man was on his knees, begging for mercy and preaching something about ‘having a heart’ as tears streamed down his face, quenching in agony while the woman’s eyes were firmly planted on the ground. Arlecchino much prefered her for not creating a spectacle, even if she'd been a part of the abduction. If anything, they should be groveling in thanks - had she found them before the legal system, she would've been very tempted to serve them a piece of her justice. Owning up to their crime was both the least and the most they could do. Arlecchino had neither the time not empathy to deal with such people, and it had perhaps been of the only good things in her circumstances to learn that the Dragon Sovereign was no different. “Guards, take them to their cells.” Do not make me ask again. She lowered her voice.“Lord Neuvillette, I will now be taking my leave to recieve diplomat from Snezhnaya personally.” Neuvillette shortly nodded, with a civil "Lady Arlecchino," his face as blank as ever. She suspected they seemed too alike to the civilians to make for characters seperately. It would be unbecoming to make her less legal dealings public knowledge, after all. Neuvillette would never engage in those activities. Arlecchino's heeled clacked as she left the trial. There were hushed whispers behind her. Egeria was a constant point of comparison for her - not that she cared much for public opinion, even if her other half insisted she should. What good was their endearment and fondness? It would lessen neither's burden. When the time came, Clervie would avert the inevitable crisis for them - if Arlecchino didn't find a solution first - and then they could be their seperate paths. It was better to be feared. This way they would keep their mutual distance; Arlecchino would handle her secrets carefully and nobody would have to be disposed for learning… too much. They really should juxtapose Egeria with Clervie instead. Arlecchino was just a puppet for the real goddess, no matter willing or not.
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Fontaine’s flare for the extravagant shrouded the city like gem-flecked necklaces. The fashion consisted of layers and lace; extensive accessorization: bows and ties and hats in vibrant and lively colors. Even the pets were similarly dressed. She found it quite to her taste. The streets were clearly under constant development. The newly renovated shops were arched and graceful. Guards petrolled the square dutifully with their mechas. On the surface, law and order were maintained. Furina mused thoughtfully. She'd have to hunt the places which hosted under-the-table dealings. Even the nation of justice could not be stripped of it. As she strode towards Palais Mermonia - alone at her request to keep an ear out for gossip that attire from Snezhnaya and a gaggle of Fatui would repel - a stranger brushed against her, sending her stumbling. She caught her balance in mere seconds, letting out a cry of surprise. The stranger was pale-skinned, blue-eyed, tall, red-haired, slant-eyed, hook-nosed; all of which she catalogued in her memory for later. Furina also noted the relatively simple off-shoulder frock coloured in the lightest shades of the stars that she wore, as if insisting to blend into the throng. “Oh!” her hand flew to her chest, “I'm extremely sorry, mademoiselle!” Furina couldn't help the spark of pride that ravaged her. It was acting fit for the opera. She could admire a fellow craftsperson. “Why, you mustn't be so rueful on my account!” She knew how to respond in kind. “It was a fair misstep, my dear.” Did Furina imagine it, or was there a faint blush to the woman's cheeks? Infatuation, or shame, or perhaps guilt? “You are much too kind. May we meet again by the oceans’ will,” she said, “When I am in a position to make amends.” Much love that they had not for their goddess, then. It could've been worse, Furina supposed. She could've remembered Egeria in their Archon’s stead. The question that mattered: was this woman an anomaly, or the standard? Furina let out a short bow. “If only to find an excuse for us to reconvene.” And then she was out of sight. Furina unsheathed the wallet sprinkled with coins, jostling at her every step. In about fifteen seconds, her thief would discover that Furina’s purse had hydro figurines and a sheet of parchment upon which a smiling face was etched. In about another minute and a half, she’d dip into her previous misadventures only to find herself hollowed out. For what it was worth, Furina had no interest in stealing from the common folk. She was even impressed by her assailant’s skill. She just couldn't allow herself to be so unseemly as to be robbed from. In another life, Furina would have offered the thief a job beneath her. In this life, she let the threadbare pouch settle on an outdoor table for the unlucky to find. ///// The welcome would be grand. A representative from a foreign land was always to be given a minimum amount of courtesy, of course. But a Harbinger from Snezhnaya was almost akin to welcoming an Archon’s second hand. Them being ambiguously beloved or important to the Tsaritsa assisted, sure, but most of them were political or mythical or industrial figures enough in their own right. That alone would perhaps only earn them a sliver of respect from Arlecchino, but they functioned as an organisation. The true marvel was that they hadn't fallen apart yet. To take on one of them was not always to incite the wrath of all others - their internal dynamics were complicated from what she understood - but it could warrant suspicion to wariness and hinder the smoothness of future endeavours. The door slid - more accurately, slammed - open, cutting through her swimming thoughts. Music blared from the sides. When the final reverberation from the trumpet’s ended, the first of the Fatui began to spill inside. They lined the walls silently. She studied their crisp uniforms and straightened back; the sheathed swords and resting catalysts. The air was thick with anticipation. Arlecchino calmly sipped a mouthful of her scorching hot tea. The Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers entered, and she was a- A- Arlecchino paused and settled her teacup. She didn't quite know how to describe her. Her white and blue hair were tied up in a multiple of Fontaine's ‘french’ braids and buns and flicks, spilling over to her bare shoulders and sapphire blue puffed sleeves that gave way to an elaborate black corset. Her short, layered skirt was lined with gold and black, asymmetrically long in the back. But that was just an objective overview of her outfit. Furina sauntered like she owned the place, haughty and proud. But she laughed with her bodyguards, like they were equals. Her eyes were watchful scanning, but that quality was hidden under the mask of carelessness. She had a holster and a vision, but Arlecchino understood her dealings were primarily not from fighting. A true contradiction. This would be interesting. They locked gazes. Furina’s eyes were a deep shade of blue. Arlecchino nodded slightly. She spun, not quite waiting for a response. Furina would beckon herself. The private suite was ready for personal discussion. The central table was covered with the finest silks and overwhelmed with stacks of cupcakes and macaroons; cutlery of pure silver embossed with a cut of mysterious ore. Arlecchino took a seat on the sofa. “Hydro Archon, reverent and great,” she said, deferential, “It is my utmost pleasure to finally meet you.” “I implore you to spare the pleasantries,” Arlecchino intonated, “It is an equal honour to make an acquaintance of you, Fourth of the Harbingers.” Arlecchino couldn't help the stabbing itch she had every time she was referred to as the Archon. She - who had no patience for falsities. The mask may fit, but only because she had made it fit. “Please,” Furina waved a careless hand, her voice melodious and just a little breathless,“It is Furina.” “As you wish.” Arlecchino allowed. Furina’s hand ventured to one of the delicates. Her glove was white, almost crystalline. Above its gold trimming there were gemstones like the sea and sky embedded. Arlecchino stuck to the tea. To proceed with the conversation, she had two options: follow up with useless flattery like inquiries on how Furina was faring, or cut to the chase and ask her about the treaties and their continuation. She coughed to bring up Furina’s attention from her plate. “What does the Ts-” “Oh my,” Furina half-gasped, half-said, “Are we jumping into the boring part so soon?” Arlecchino pursed her lips. She did not enjoy being interrupted, and she did not advocate for the wastage of her time. “I assume that's what we're here for,” she said dryly, “But feel free to educate me.” Furina tsked, letting out a laugh. “Well, you won't convince me of it not being dull.” “Regardless,” Arlecchino folded her hands, “We have a duty.” Furina sighed. Arlecchino felt her nerves shorten. “The Tsaritsa wishes to continue the pre-existing agreements made with your predecessor,” Furina said, dabbing a handkerchief on her mouth strenuously, “With a signing and some modifications, unless you would like to redraft everything?” “No,” Arlecchino said, “Let's not waste time on trivial matters. I-” She stood up suddenly. Furina had fallen with a soft thud. Her head lolled slightly to the side, eyes shut. Arlecchino's grip instantly raced to the piece of fabric before hesitating and divulging paths. She wrapped her hand around Furina’s wrist. Her pulse was beating slowly, but steadily. She lived. It would've been disastrous had something happened to her while with Arlecchino. But someone had poisoned Furina, hadn't they? Or was it meant for Arlecchino? Anger curdled in her stomach. Justice would be served. ///// Furina woke up in the infirmary. A melusine - purple-furred, extremely short, red eyes - stood by her bedside, a notepad in her paws. Furina frowned. She was a Harbinger - Arlecchino, as the ruler of Hydro, which was especially associated with healing, should've tended to Furina personally. In fact, even with her Gnosis powering the so-called justice distributor, she could've - would've had to - make an effort on Furina herself. The nurse’s eyes focused on her. “You're up?” Furina smiled brightly at her. “Up as day!” “That's good. How do you feel?” Furina scrunched her eyebrows. “I don't understand how I ended up here.” she tightened her hand over the plain white sheets, as if just noticing them. “I feel nice. All normal. Just a little… disoriented?” There were no other beds around. It was a private room, then. The melusine was scribbling furiously. Furina innocently queried, “And what may I call you, Miss?” “I'm Anoki.” “Anoki, do I have visitors?” Furina leaned forward. “They're here. The Snezhnayans.” she looked up. “I’ll run you through the basic tests, then, shall I let them enter?” Furina smiled once more, this time in assent. She had a lot of orders to make. ///// Arlecchino came in late at night. “Miss Furina,” she said. Her figure was half in shadow, barely inside the door. A few scrapes of moonlight that had snuck in from the curtain covered windows decorated close by. “I would like to extend a formal apology for this mishap. I assure you, whoever has dared harm you shall be punished accordingly.” “Oh, there's no need to act so formal.” Her grin was all teeth. “Call me just Furina.” Arlecchino had floated closer while she had been speaking. “I trust that you are well?” “Of course I am.” Furina answered. “But today's discussion was not finished.” Arlecchino seemed to internally jerk. Of course she hadn't expected Furina to be so serious about her work. “You can show me around the city while we finish that agreement.” “As you wish.” Arlecchino gritted through her teeth. She was lucky Furina wasn't more infuriated about what had happened to her, and she clearly knew it. Furina was obviously not going to let go of an opportunity when she had her opponent backed up. For the reveal of the Hydro Archon's reluctance - or inability - to use her powers, if not this tour that had now earned, poisoning herself had been worth it.